HAIR = Hit.

The hits keep on coming on Broadway, folks (at least critically).

I saw the cast’s performance at the Thanksgiving Day parade, and it’s colored my idea of this revival: much like when Broadway tries to do Grease or even West Side Story these days, it’s hard to get past the fact that the folks onstage are musical theater actors, and therefore lack a rawness and urgency and sex appeal that these shows require. The Times review seems to state otherwise, but I’ll believe it when I see it.

The Daily Beast has an interesting take on the show today, although I have a huge bone to pick with this paragraph:

n other words, the 1968 Broadway production of Hair is being revived on Broadway in 2009 at a time when every issue that animated the play has been—in the musical’s own perspective—happily resolved. There is almost universal opposition to the war in Iraq, the “Generation Gap” has been replaced by parents jostling with their children for space on Facebook, our president is black, and just about everybody is “green.” As for sex and drugs… well, go refill your prescription and I’ll get mine, let’s email each other some pictures of ourselves naked, and if we both like what we see, why don’t we meet for a drink later tonight.

I’m a positive guy generally, but…really? The issues of the play are “resolved?” There’s no generation gap anymore? There’s no racism anymore? And what does environmentalism really have to do with anything? Sex may be more mainstream (to an extent) but drugs — of the hippie variety — are just as, if not more taboo now then at the time, in certain circles at least. Glib overstatements like this hurt the integrity of the article to come, for me, at least.

August: Osage County and This Week in New York Theater.

1. I saw August: Osage County on Wednesday. I have to admit, I went in more than a little skeptical about the whole experience. There has been, of course, an extraordinary amount of hype around this show, and I tend to tune out when something is treated as if it were the best thing that ever happened (The Dark Knight being an exception to this rule; I was ludicrously amped about that flick, and remain amped after seeing it–expect a post about that soon). But my mom bought tickets, and off we went to a matinée. The opening monologue made me more than a little nervous; I had visions of spending the next three hours watching college professors quote TS Eliot at great length and verbosity. But the play progresses past that quickly, and it settles into, well, the kind of play I generally don’t remotely dig: the wildly dysfunctional but relatively not all that terribly bad-off family play. But I’ll be damned if it’s not a pretty damn good dysfunctional family play.

The acting in this piece is amazing, and this is the replacement cast I saw, meaning that the writing (and the direction) have to be pretty top-notch. The roles are meaty and kind of showy, and the one-liner/zingers that pepper the script are well-placed and paced, so they become more effective in context than out. I’m not going to say this was one of the best or even better shows I’ve ever seen, but it is a remarkably effective 3-plus hour dark comedy that earns its time in the theater. Which is saying a lot, I think.

And it was good to see Officer Prezbo in action too.

2. Billy Elliot is going to be a big hit on Broadway. I really don’t get it. I saw it in London. I was not impressed. More accurately, I was impressed with the little kids dancing, with the sheer athleticism of it all, the achievement of it all, but not much beyond that. But it’ll be a hit, we’re all sure of that, right?

3. The Equus posted is bizarre, and I’m not sure in a good way.

4. Definitely go see Animals Out of Paper at Second Stage. My boy Rajiv wrote it, and my boy Utkarsh is one of the stars. I did a little informal “hip-hop consulting” on it, and I wrote an article about it. Would I get this invested in a show if I didn’t like it? Unlikely.

5. My Nebraska partner in crime (he’s not from Nebraska; we just partner in crime there) Joe Salvatore has an upcoming Fringe show called III. I am bummed to be missing it, but you should be neither bummed nor missing it.

6. I am also likely to miss Hair. This makes me sad, although I might get a chance to see it after all.

This Week in New York Theater.

1.  So they’re casting for the Spider-man musical, and I’ve got say that I’m excited about the potential of the whole project.  If you haven’t heard, Julie Taymor is directing/creating, and U2 (or at least Bono and The Edge) are doing the score.  I’ve heard good things from folks involved.  The casting notice is interesting for a couple of reasons, first of which is the line “all ethnicities are encouraged to audition.”  Now, while my friend Burl would make a perfect Spidey (and I’ve got the pictures to prove it), are we really going to see a Spider-man or even Mary Jane of color?  The fanboys wouldn’t stand for it, I don’t think.  (Although if Stephanie Beatriz was Mary Jane, I’d be there, no questions asked.)

The other weird tidbit from the casting notice is this mysterious “Principal Woman,” described as “Sinead O’Connor with a Middle Eastern/Bulgarian/Greek twist.”  Okay.  I have absolutely no clue what that’s all about–a new villain?  Should they really be adding to the cannon like this?  Maybe a Spidey fan will read this and school me on how this character fits into everything, and I definitely will reserve judgment, but I’m already questioning where they’re taking this.

2.  Whoopi is the new Rosie, as she signs on to join the cast of Xanadu shortly after doing a good job hosting this year’s Tony’s (go back and check out the running diary if you haven’t already).   The difference, of course, is that Whoopi already has a Tony.  I was pretty excited about seeing Xanadu even before this announcement, and I’d like to see it with Whoopi in it, but I’ll probably wait out the crowds and check it out after she leaves.  Xanadu is an interesting case right now–the theater is almost full every night (at least as of the latest Variety charts), but ticket receipts are only about half of what they could be.  Lots of discounted tickets to that show.  So Whoopi would, it would seem, allow them to start selling more full price tickets, hopefully while maintaining that seating capacity.  I hope Xanadu keeps doing well–I didn’t want it to win the Tony (for obvious reasons), but it sounds like a fun little show.

3.  Tickets are still available for Passing Strange’s closing weekend, including the two shows Spike Lee is going to film.  Seriously.  Buy tickets.  See the show.  Be there for the taping and/or the closing.  I’m looking into it myself.  You’re going to be real sad when you watch the filmed version and realize you could have been there.

4.  My boy Rajiv wrote a play about origami.  Yes.  Origami.  It’s called Animals Out of Paper, and it’s pretty damn good.  Full disclosure: I recently wrote a piece about this play for the Brooklyn Rail (should be out soon), and I served as the (super informal) “hip-hop consultant” for the show (I didn’t write the rhymes, just discussed them, and basically just quoted Eminem lyrics at that).  So yeah, I’m biased.  And one of my favorite actors in the world, Utkarsh Ambudkar, is in it–you may remember him as Nelson from The Lark production of Welcome to Arroyo’s.  Either way, this is a play with a lot of heart, some great performances (from what I saw in the first reading), and a deceptive simplicity that pulls back to reveal incredible emotional complexity underneath.  It’s like origami, come to think of it.

5.  Also happening right now in NYC is 12 Ophelias by the wildly prolific Caridad Svich.  If you saw Aya Ogawa’s Oph3lia, you kind of have to see this one, if only to make it a total of 15 Ophelias this summer (plus, of course, Lauren Ambrose, who makes 16–sixteen Ophelias!  *cue Count Von Count’s thunder*).  It happens to be free and site-specific in Williamsburg’s McCarren Park Pool (or as El Puente students would say “MacCarrien Park” — there’s an awfully inside joke for you), and it features bluegrass and a Hamlet with a black eye, so go see it already.  Here’s a blog review of it if you haven’t made up your mind.

I know there’s a lot more, but I’m stopping there–oh wait, no I’m not.

6.  Hair.  It’s in Central Park starting July 22.  I’m a little bummed about only having ten days or so to try to see it (and my birthday is right in there, so that knocks a bunch of nights out of the realm of possibility), but I am going to find a way to make it happen.  It’s Hair, people.  And it’s in Central Park.  Outside.  And there’s a war going on–a war with a “back-door draft.“  I’m not going to tell you about the virtual line, because (a) I’ve already written about it (I think) and (b) I don’t want you beating me to the punch.  I’ll link it all up after I’ve seen it, suckas.

7.  This last one isn’t theater, but it’s the biggest deal in entertainment this summer.  I will be seeing the IMAX.  Somehow.  Possibly at 2am next week.

Let’s Talk About Rent.

So I’m out here in Nebraska, right?

I’m teaching and dramaturging for the International Thespian Festival, which is basically a massive gathering of high school theater nerds (and of course, I say this with the utmost affection) for a week of workshops and plays and community. The whole experience is pretty amazing, with thousands of kids swarming the University of Nebraska campus, singing showtunes, and being, for once at least, completely in their dream element. There’s theater everywhere you go, and it’s wildly accepting and open and positive, and when you’re involved in high school theater, that’s exactly what you need (and rarely get in real life).

Every night during the week there is a different show on the mainstage of the campus; these shows are kind of the main event of the week, and are attended by hundreds of students and adults. Tonight’s show was performed by students from Mary D. Bradford High School from Kenosha, Wisconsin. Tonight’s show was Rent.

Let’s back up and talk about Rent itself for a second. The first time I saw Rent was back in 1996 in its original incarnation at New York Theatre Workshop as part of a school trip. We sat in the front row center. Idina Menzel flirted with me from the stage. Taye Diggs spit on me as he sang Seasons of Love. My jaw stayed pretty solidly on the floor throughout the night (although thankfully, it was closed as the spit was flying). I had never seen a show like this–young energy, music that seemed to follow more in the footsteps of Jesus Christ Superstar and Hair then in the traditional show-tune stuff that rubbed me the wrong way. More importantly, I had never seen actors who so deeply cared about what they were performing, who were so ludicrously invested in the show and its message that the audience couldn’t help but be dragged right along with them into the story, into the world of the play. It’s impossible to explain to folks who didn’t see that production exactly what that production was, because I’m not sure there’s ever been anything quite like it, not with that moment and those circumstances. It was a true phenomenon, and to this day one of the most moving theatrical experiences I have ever had.

And then, tonight.

I don’t do reviews on this blog, and I’m certainly not going to review a high school production of anything, let alone of an edited (read: sanitized) version of a musical with, as they say, “mature themes” that are probably far and beyond what any high school student has a right to be able to play. But I will say this, and I’ll skip a space for emphasis:

God damn, that was amazing.

I’ve never been a party to giving a show a standing ovation in the middle of the performance. I was tonight. We talk about showstoppers. We overuse the term. Tonight, I saw a showstopper. An audience full of high school students were sobbing, audibly sobbing. Grown folks were sobbing, audibly sobbing. We’re talking a bravura performance here in the middle of the show, with an ensemble that virtually became a church choir, and a Joanne/Tom Collins combination that, that, that–I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. Beautiful, moving, powerful. Stunning really.

And that’s not the thing; here’s the thing. If you dive back a few posts (I’m to lazy to link for you), you’ll see my feelings about In The Heights and the way it activates audiences and celebrates community in that way that only theater can do. Rent does that naturally–that’s why it’s run this long, sold this many CDs. Now take what Rent does naturally, and multiply that by hundreds of high school students who have been listening to the CD their entire theatrical life, who have memorized every line without ever having seen the show in person. Multiply that by this atmosphere, this glorious week-long oasis where the theater geeks are the rock stars, are the centers of our own little isolated universe, where we all sing along to Rent and aren’t ashamed, don’t consign it to the guilty pleasure column but embrace it, embrace it as a sign of our communal values and beliefs, cling to it as a validation of our deep need for community and union and acceptance and yes, love, unconditional love, the kind of love, as they say, “that Angel had.”

Go ahead. Multiply it by those things.

If you can’t work out the equation, here’s what you get:

When Maureen tells the audience to “moo with me,” everyone–everyone–in the auditorium starts to moo, and moo loudly, and moo the way the character actually wants them to moo: deeply, from the heart. These kids are mooing as a sign of resistance, as a sign of rebellion and transgression, and yes it’s sanitized, and yes it’s censored and controlled, but you know what? These kids would have mooed for ten minutes straight if the cast had let them, because right there, in that moment–and this sounds stupid and overdramatic, but I’m a dramatist, so whatever–right there in that moment, a generation of theater kids belonged. And belonged together. And I went all kinds of emo.

And for me, the thing is this (I know I said I already discussed the thing, but here’s the thing behind the thing, which is a Guernica reference for those of you who know that play): I didn’t think Rent was going to hold up all that well. I thought it was dated. I let the awful movie and the last 30 minutes of the show itself (which I think is pretty uninspiring and unfinished, quite frankly) blind me to the fact (and I think it is a fact, not an opinion) that the first 3/4 of that show is pretty effing remarkable, and unique, and groundbreaking just like all the press and hype had claimed it to be. It’s a powerful show, period, not just for those of us who saw it in the shadow of Jonathan Larson’s untimely passing.

And these kids–these kids got it. Twelve years later.

Now look. It’s not a perfect show to begin with (like I said, the last 1/4 really falls apart, I think, and there are some problematic story points throughout), and the censored-down high school version raises a whole bunch of other questions and issues, particularly in the realms of gender and sexual politics. But tonight–tonight I saw something that I really liked: a theater world that’s evolving, becoming contemporary, becoming relevant to young people while maintaining some kind of socially relevant edge. And I realized that In The Heights and Passing Strange and the like are keeping this alive and taking it new directions, and I remembered that the only person out of his seats to give the Rent performance at the Tonys its due and well-deserved standing O was Lin-Manuel Miranda.

Because he got it.

Like these kids get it now.

(Slightly unrelated–I stumbled across this on youtube just now. Wow.)