Hair
Hair Book and Lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado
Music by Galt MacDermot
Directed and choreographed by Earl D. Weaver
Musical direction by Pati Sayer
Starring Tyler Beauregard and Christian Barba
Theatre UCF, Orlando FL</strong>
So it’s come to this, then: the grandchildren of the revolution are reconstructing the dream of their grandparents. It’s 1968 and the ideal of free love is fading to the reality of poverty, bad drugs and a war that just won’t end. Sounds a lot like today as well as any number of decades past, present and future. Central Park draws the disaffected with the promise of love, peace and understanding, and while Utopia smells sweet, you’ve never been on an HOA board, have you? Leather fringed Berger (Beauregard) leads his pack though a provocative introduction; “Hashish,” “Sodomy”, “Colored Spade,” and “Ain’t Got no Grass” pokes all the hot buttons of the day. Berger’s friend Claude (Barba) claims to be from Manchester, UK but soon he’s called out as a Flushing boy with an affected accent. Still, we love him; everybody is a character in life and it’s easier to go along than beat the blood out of the turnip of Truth. These are Rebels with a Capitol R, and their brand-new cause is love, dope and self-awareness. Pregnancy and hunger and body lice are a byproduct of this life style but no matter- there’s a War out there, and who wants to take that Magical Downer Trip? No one of course, but when Claude is called he enlists despite his anti-war cred. He’s meat for the machine, but we shed a tear when he takes the short end of a fire fight. Frankly, he’s a lousy shot but a great target.
The mix of pointless idealism and brutal reality is never stronger; we would all love to live the freedom and hedonism of these flower children yet we recognize the frailty of idealism. Claude seems the right mix of bravado and cowardice; stronger drugs or stronger balls might have allowed him to survive the war and he lacks them both. Among these dozens of patchouli infused youth I was drawn to several supporting actors. Sheila (Lindsey Wells ) wore the most sexually explicit pants ever, Ambisexual Woof (Gabe Freidman) looked exactly like Russ Mael from Sparks and actually humped a poster of Mick Jagger on stage. The leader of the redundant “‘Colored Spade” Hud (Raleigh Mosley) sported an afro the likes I haven’t seen in 30 years. I really hope all the afros on stage were real; its one of the few hair fashion I really miss.
When this show isn’t poking a stick in the ant hill of outdated prejudice, it does show us what we could have been. I give director Weaver points for not pulling his punches on the nude scene ending Act One. Other shows have wimped out and if you are going to do nudity just do the damn nudity even if it offends. The student seated next to me was properly horrified; she said “but those are my friends!” I don’t really want to see that many of my friends naked, but there it is: A commitment to the show. There was an eight piece band on stage, and the hits were hits we already know: “Aquarius”, “Sodomy”, “I Believe” and “Good Moring Starshine” were excellent but the final number “The Flesh Failures (Let the Suns Shine In)” is the ultimate cries of misery over the inevitable. We loved Claude, each in our own ways, and now his name is one of fifty thousand engraved on a dreary memorial. Any of us might end there any day now, so enjoy your friends while you can.
For more information on Theatre UCF visit http://www.theatre.ucf.edu
