“Isn’t that the one where they take off their clothes?”
Such was the response of multiple people when told this reviewer would cover Signature Theatre’s production of Hair, the psychedelic rock musical from the peace and love era.
Hair is, indeed, famous—or infamous—for its controversial nude scene. When it premiered on Broadway in 1968, nudity was only one of the play’s hot-button plot points. Other objections included its portrayals of interracial relationships, bisexuality, homosexuality, extensive use of illegal drugs, and irreverence toward religion, parents, the American flag, and every other aspect of mainstream American culture. Proving that moral panic over art—and even violent threats—is far older than the recent trend of school book bans and attacks on librarians, productions of Hair were banned by local authorities for violating ordinances on public nudity and sexual performance. Bombings and arson attacks dogged touring companies.
Knowing all this, and being of fairly staid—even, one may say, “square”—personal preferences, what did this reviewer think of Hair?
Reader, I loved it.
Signature Theatre’s Hair is a riot for all the senses. Following the adventures and foibles of a bohemian “tribe” living in New York under the shadow of the draft, Hair obliterates the fourth wall, calling for extensive interaction with the audience. Signature leans in to this tradition. Upon entering the haze-filled theater, audience members watch a loop of U.S. Army recruitment videos and 1950s PSAs on the dangers of unruly youth. Then enters Claude (Jordan Dobson), who watches the screen. As if by magic, the audience falls silent. Then Dionne (Amanda Lee) appears from among the audience members, heralding the dawn of “The Age of Aquarius.” The set springs to life, with the screen and the curtain vanishing to reveal the full cast, who burst into song. It is an electrifying experience. Audience members are also asked to join in antiwar chants, or are handed mimeographed handbills inviting them to “a human be-in” onstage, and are often picking silk flower petals from their hair as the cast enters chanting “Hare Krishna.”
The immersion continues outside the theater. At Ali’s Bar in the lobby, the Hair-themed specials include a vegan lentil salad and a “totally normal brownie,” which is described as a “soft, chewy brownie that satisfies your munchies without the use of any special hippie ingredients.” Well played, Signature. Well played.
Indeed, Hair is more experience than narrative, but that hardly comes to mind in the middle of the spectacle. The loose plot has newcomer Claude as its protagonist. Drawn to the freewheeling life of “the tribe,” he is reluctant to jettison all the values of his upbringing. When he receives his draft notice, Claude must decide whether to burn his draft card with the other men in the group or submit to conscription. Dobson portrays Claude as sensitive and more than a little naive, making his painful coming-of-age the emotional heart of the show.
With some 40 named tracks in the program, not every song stands out, but cultural touchstones such as the opening “Aquarius” and finale “Let the Sunshine In,” along with “Good Morning Starshine,” stand the test of time. In acting, singing, and all-around charisma, the cast is superb. Lee’s Dionne is the strongest vocalist of the group, able to hold and shape long notes with tremendous lung power. It’s appropriate that in the second half, during Claude’s drug-fueled hallucination, she appears in the persona of Arethra Franklin. Other standouts in the delightful ensemble are Mason Reeves as self-described “psychedelic teddy bear” Berger and Solomon Parker III as the unflappably cool Hud.
For a show famous for its nudity, it is perhaps ironic that the costume design is so superb. Kathleen Geldard has kitted out the cast with a variety of styles that feel authentic to the age, without a whiff of the thrift shop found among the bright colors and embroidered touches. The set designed by Paige Hathaway is always hazed over with theatrical smoke or herbal cigarettes, making it an experience so real one fears a contact high.
Almost 60 years on from the premiere of Hair, protesters still take to the streets over issues of racial injustice, gender inequality, queer and trans rights, and endless wars in faraway places. Should we conclude then that the hopes and dreams of the 1960s were empty? Signature Theatre’s program offers hope, cautioning that the Age of Aquarius is said to last for 2,000 years, so half a century on we are only at the dawning of an age of “the mind’s true liberation” in which “peace will guide the planets/ And love will steer the stars.”
Oh, and about that nude scene—it’s 20 seconds on a dimmed stage with lights then covered to black. There is nothing salacious about it; a political statement of guilelessness rather than erotic provocation. That brief period of nudity by the cast is far from the most shocking thing in the show—and far less shocking than most contemporary prestige television.
Hair, with book and lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado, music by Galt MacDermot, and directed by Matthew Gardiner, runs through July 7 at Signature Theatre. Two and a half hours including a 15-minute intermission. sigtheatre.org. $40–$128.