Hairspray
IN Los Angeles
September 2004
No irony intended—watching Hairspray
is like taking a huge hit off an aerosol can. There’s the giddiness of
anticipation, explosive giggles and euphoria, and a gentle coming down with
little memory of what was so funny in the first place. Hairspray is a
zippy good time— every plot point and rhyme scheme is easily predictable, but
it is a reminder of why musical theater is such a gosh-darned fun experience.
<>Hairspray is not
necessarily campy, but it is something even more self-conscious. It takes place
in the new-fangled ‘60s, where a rebellious generation is emerging and civil
rights are starting to take hold. Using the serious themes of a tumultuous time
period, the musical removes any of the John Waters film’s down-and-dirty filth,
and replaces it with a candy-colored, sugar sweet story of a girl who becomes a
local star, who also happens to enforce racial integration at the same time.
<>
Marissa Jaret Winoker is
Tracy Turnblad, inhabiting the role so thoroughly that no one else could do it
justice without having to re-create the character. Her high-pitched voice
invokes the wide-eyed desperation for acceptance that reflects every teenaged
girl who feels like an outsider. As the star-struck teen who dreams of dancing
on television, Winoker, heavy-set and limber, makes no pretenses of being
something that she’s not, and throws herself into being the best that she can
be. Her energy makes you root for the actress as much as for the character.
<>
Once Tracy
makes it on to the Dick Clark-type Corny Collins Show as a dancer, she subverts
the entire process of the Baltimore
entertainment industry—as the blond princess Amber Von Tussle (Jordan Ballard)
cries out spitefully, “You people are ignoring the laws of nature!” Against all
opposition, Tracy’s loose-limbed
dance moves wins over of the public, and her genuineness captures the heart of
teen idol Link Larkin (Matthew Morrison). Riding her popularity, Tracy
realizes that her dreams lie in allowing her African-American friend, smooth
dance machine Seaweed (Terron Brooks), and his dazzling mother Motormouth
Maybelle (Charlotte Crossley) the freedom to join her on stage, and to make
“every day Negro day.”
<>
The book by Mark O’Donnell and
Thomas Meehan makes no pretenses of creating a groundbreaking story here. Of course, some chaos ensues, kisses are
thwarted by jail cell bars, but it all works out in the end. Each character,
whether diabolical, ditzy, or loveable, should be taken exactly at face value, and
several of the film’s characters are thinned out to fit within the musical
theater genre. The music by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman is snappy, but
probably won’t leave you whistling any tunes on your way out.
<>
What makes this a special event is
the onslaught of quips, jokes, and broad humor that elicit nonstop laughter.
Bruce Vilanch takes the large-shoed role Tracy’s
mother (originally played by Divine in the film, and Harvey Fierstein in the
Broadway production), a housebound deep-voiced woman who learns through her
daughter how to love her big and beautiful self. As a gifted comedian,Vilanch
handles the scripted stuff rather well, but shines when he tosses out topical
ad-libs directly to the audience while in the arms of his mousy husband Wilbur
(Todd Susman). Sandra Denise is darling at every moment, as Tracy’s
oppressed, knock-kneed, and spastic as Tracy’s
best friend Penny. Even the most obvious
gags (yes, Sammy Davis Jr., was black and Jewish) are amusing in this context.
<>
Above all, the entire production
glows with professionalism. Every dance number is smoothly choreographed and
executed, and not a false note is ever hit. The bright, shimmering set by David
Rockwell is both efficient and eye-catching without being overdone, while the
costumes by William Ivey Long are perfectly suited for the
almost-but-not-quite-psychadelic early ‘60s.
Back to Articles
|
