Hair
World Trade Center Theater, 121 SW Salmon, 280-5483, Thurs-Sat 8 pm, $25
I’ll admit it—I fucking love Hair. I get all choked up every time I see it and, in adolescence, pulled many a tube to the tunes of the soundtrack LP. Therefore, I was still interested in Live On Stage’s production after I discovered that it’s a performance of Hair’s musical numbers only. There’s no spoken dialogue in this one, no nudity, nor do the company members—most clad in modern blue jeans—even resemble hippies. As it turned out, only two cast members sported hair past their shoulders.
More or less a cabaret show without small round tables and highballs (and, in this case, without any special costuming), this Hair was designed with fans of the original production in mind. The show has the potential, however, to snatch up new fans of the classic ’60s tribal rock musical. With an impressive six-piece band onstage with the cast, the show is Concert Theater—essentially a 30-song set. It’s difficult to get bored with the can’t-lose lyrics hurled at a breakneck speed.
Standouts among the cast are Thomas Lindsley (headlining as Claude), Scott Weimer, Nathanael Browne, and the under-used Rebecca Kimball. The stronger company members have voices that match the music. While it may not be important for Lindsley to wear patchwork pants and a hemp headband to succeed here, it’s crucial that he not belt out “Manchester, England” à la Pavarotti. Some of the younger cast members, sadly, detract from some numbers with their unsuitable vocal skills reminiscent of Hilary Duff or Maria Callas. It’s as if they memorized the lyrics but didn’t take time to comprehend the context.
For some, this production offers the best parts of Hair without having to sit through a pesky libretto. For others, it’s just not Hair without its political implications (let alone the notorious dick-flopping). If you’re into psychedelic show tunes, check this one out—especially if you even marginally enjoy Hair. As for substance in a night at the theater, I suspect this version provides a Hair-virgin with an inferior appreciation of the entire musical—much like that of those company members who sing through the motions.