Theater review: 'Hair'

The American hippie is alive and well and living in Venice Theatre. You can study a tribe of them on stage in the current production of “Hair.” Or the next closest thing. The musical’s not only about that time. It’s of the time.

The revolutionary, free-form rock musical was born off-Broadway in 1967 and became an improbable Broadway hit in 1968. Gerome Ragni and James Rado wrote the book and lyrics; Galt MacDermot composed the music. These cats knew what they’re doing—judging by the long list of hits the musical spawned. (“Hair,” “The Age of Aquarius,” “Let the Sunshine In,” “And “Easy to Be Hard,” to name a few.) More than that, the creators clearly knew the tribe they wrote about. And were quite possibly members. This isn’t a full-frontal version of “The Monkees.” The dialog and characters behind the music ring true—with the clarity of actual, first-hand observation.

And, yes, along with the great tunes, the musical has a story. It’s as loose as the pattern on a tie-dye t-shirt, to be sure. But a story, nonetheless.

“Hair” explores the experience of a hippie tribe in New York City around 1967. There’s clear evidence of contact with the Yippie tribe. When they’re not pursuing sex, drugs and rock and roll, they’re fighting racism and the Vietnam War. Berger (Charles Logan), their non-leader leader, is a charismatic imp spreading the joys of hedonism and the “I do my thing, and you do your thing” lifestyle. This nature boy’s a narcissist and casually breaks a few hearts. One of their number, Claude (Patrick Mounce), is a New Jersey lad who’s reinvented himself as a British expatriate. The Draft Board doesn’t see it that way. They want to keep him off the body count. That’s pretty much it.

Song and dance is the heart of this musical—but not the usual Broadway song and dance. It’s a Dionysian, experiential blast. Each song offers some facet of the tribal attitude. “The Age of Aquarius” is the utopian anthem that put the Fifth Dimension on the map. “Easy to be Hard” is the wounded cry of Sheila (Vera Samuels), one of Berger’s lovers, after he gives her a literal slap in the face. “Hair” is the hymn to the hirsute we all know and love. But this is far more than a nostalgia trip. In context, songs like “Good Morning Starshine” and “Let the Sunshine In” aren’t so hippy-dippy happy; they’re an alternative to hatred, blood and death. The Vietnam War hovers at the fringes like a death bird awaiting its next meal. Lesser known numbers, like “Manchester England,” “Frank Mills” and “Walking in Space,” also have power—and change meaning as the musical does its free form thing. “What a Piece of Work Is Man” puts Hamlet’s words to music—and drives home how sick the melancholy Dane was of life, the world and the human race.

Ben Vereen, the Broadway luminary, directs this experiential onslaught. (I think I know his strategy—but I’ll save that for later.) Suffice to say, Vereen and an army of creative talent entertain the living daylights out of you—assuming you’re not “uptight,” as the kids used to say. “Hair” deals with some heavy stuff. It’s also seriously funny, in a raunchy way. Expect brief nudity, creatively foul language, and insults to country, religion, the military, and high school principals. But don’t expect be bored.

The strong cast of singer/dancer/actors has no weak links. It’s also a huge cast. Here are just a few highlights: Syreeta S. Banks sings “Hair” and other anthems in ringing, Aretha Franklin-esque tones. Logan’s Berger is a hyperactive cross between Abbie Hoffman and Ken Kesey with hair. Mounce’s Claude is heartbreaking as a lost kid trying on the skin of new identity (with echoes of “Breaking Away”). Aaron Vereen (the director’s son) has a charismatic presence and creates a wicked rhythm on the drums. Joseph Visaggi’s character is an athletic paraplegic—as is the actor, although this production doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Samuels is moving as Sheila—a smart, politically savvy NYU student. She’s particularly effective in the scene where Berger rips up her gift and slaps her. You can see she’s starting to realize that all hippies are equal, but some are more equal than others. Thus the seeds of the new feminist movement were planted. (It’s not a white-washed portrait of the counterculture, in case you were wondering.)

These talented, young performers embody the “Hair”-raising tale in a sexy, high-energy performance that probably shed a few pounds. Excellent, anti-Broadway choreography by Geena Ravella: free-form dancing in the mid-1960s style. It looks like anybody can do it—though art that seems artless is the hardest of all. Tim Wisgerhof's two-tiered set resembles a fragment of an L-train or abandoned warehouse. (Where the heck do these hippies live, anyway?) It’s an effective jungle gym for the musical’s climbing, leaping and acrobatic feats. Lighting designer Robert Graham creates a suitably trippy ambiance. The rags and feathers of Nicholas Hartman’s embroidered, patched-up, thrift store costumes take some punishment but still look cool. And “Hair” sounds cool, too. The rock band is right on stage, led by music director Michelle Kasanofsky. Serious musical chops, these guys. Behind the stage, Thor Trammell’s video projection reveals snippets of the unusual suspects of the 1960s. The mugs of Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison and Mick Jagger. Also scenes from the war between Eros and Thanatos (aka love and death) in the ’60s. That takes us to the ultraviolence of recent history.

And that’s where I think Vereen is coming from.

History, for one thing. But also philosophy.

Whatever else you can say about it, the hippie movement did its best to put        Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s philosophy in action—the notion that people are naturally good and trained to be rotten. “Man is born free but is everywhere in chains,” and all that. The hippie cure was a return to our natural selves beneath the armor of social convention. Yep. Those naïve kids actually tried to live a life of peace on a daily basis. Watching the hippie tribe in action, it’s striking how little time they had.

The director has stated that “reimagining” this musical was his aim. I don’t think that means a Miloš Foreman-style rewrite, as seen in his unfortunate 1979 movie. (A quick glance at a script I got my hands on reveals no changes.) I think Vereen was talking about getting back to what the musical was actually saying—the philosophy behind it, from a time when that philosophy was alive and well.

I imagine Vereen takes that philosophy seriously—and the tribe on stage clearly does, too. The musical ends with a useless death of a character we care about. After that, the cast sings “Let the Sunshine In” straight from the heart, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Peace, love and understanding are the names of those sunbeams—and what’s so wrong with that?

The bloody, contemporary headlines on the screens spell out the alternative.

CORRECTION: A previous version of this story incorrectly identified the set designer, Tim Wisgerhof​

IF YOU GO

“HAIR” runs through Dec. 13, at Venice Theatre, 140 W. Tampa Ave. Call 488-1115 or visit venicestage.com for more