Hair

I'd seen Diane Paulus' revival of Hair before, which is how I inadvertently wound up on a West End stage last May. Yet despite that once-in-a-lifetime experience I was nonplussed by the musical itself. As I wrote afterward, "It was well-executed and energetic and enjoyable...and empty." I stand by my initial reaction, but I'm also revising my position on Paulus' production and on Hair in general: after seeing it twice in quick succession at Toronto's Royal Alexandra Theatre (once last Thursday, then again yesterday night) I've realized its flaws have less to do with the material than with the staging itself. I also realized I've grown to love the show.

First, the flaws. This version of Hair won the 2009 Best Musical Revival Tony, but ultimately it's simply Hair-by-numbers, neither awful nor remarkable. In other words, it's pretty much exactly how you'd imagine Hair would be done, and that's okay...I guess. The actors cavort about the stage and extend their arms towards the audience and flash peace signs and mime all sorts of sexual activities...but the eventual result is that few of the scenes actually stick out. One of the exceptions--and it's a stunning one--is the finale, in which the cast performs "Let the Sun Shine In" while fake snow gently falls around them. But I wanted more; I wanted a staging that does better justice to Hair, which is one of musical theatre's ultimate flawed masterpieces. Paulus' isn't it. Hers is good. But Hair deserves more than just "good."

And having said that: I still loved the show. Why? Firstly, because the material (by Galt MacDermot, James Rado, and the late Gerome Ragni) is timeless despite being firmly rooted in the Summer of Love. Secondly, the cast is nothing short of sensational. Credit where it's due: that's because Diane Paulus. This touring tribe, which ends its Toronto run on Saturday, is impressively committed to the show's material; that's absolutely vital for Hair, because as soon as it's done with even a shred of self-consciousness it falls flat on its face. But there isn't a trace of it amongst this ensemble, least of all from Steel Burkhardt who, as Berger, goes through his paces with an endearing lack of restraint. This cast isn't quite as strong as the original, but I was especially impressed by Sara King (Sheila) and Mike Evariste (Hud), while William Joseph Lewis filled in ably for Paris Remillard as Claude yesterday night. At the risk of invoking too many cliches all at once, the cast's collective energy is often astonishing; I defy you not to feel it, I mean actually feel it, during "Ain't Got No (Grass)" or "I Got Life" or even the beautiful "Good Morning Starshine." That's three reasons. The fourth is the aforementioned ending: despite having heard the song hundreds of times, the first chord of "Let the Sun Shine In"'s chorus never fails to cover me in goosebumps. It's one-and-a-half seconds of pure musical bliss.

In the end, there was never a doubt of me seeing Hair while I was in Toronto; the only question was, "How many times?" And both times, despite seats in the Royal Alex's cramped balcony that precluded participating in the curtain call dance party again, I realized just how much I like this show in spite of its shortcomings--and how Hair remains a vital piece of theatre over forty years after its debut.