Allow me to be clear: the All-State production of Hairspray is a high school show. I knew and understood this upon taking my place in row N, seat 7 for the first performance. What I was assuming, however, was that it would represent the best of what the state of Illinois had to offer theatrically. I was, ultimately, mistaken, much to my dismay.
My broadest complaint was one the noble players had little control over: I do not like the script of Hairspray. Generally speaking, musical theatre usually struggles to hold my attention, with the sheer spectacle of Wicked and, to a lesser extent, Jersey Boys, being the sole exceptions. I understand this to be a fault, as spectacle should not overpower substance.
Yet even with my disdain for the script peeled away from my experience like so many candy layers from a jawbreaker, I find not bubble gum but rather poor staging, vocalization, and technical flaws. The set was an especially disappointing element to the piece. The scenic elements started very strong, with a detailed and, for a musical, convincing cityscape dominated by a reasonably well-painted building backdrop. This façade did not last long, however, and the set eventually revealed its true form when the detailed city was hastily covered with curtains, and the stage was occupied, nay, dominated by Tracy’s home, a massive circular platform with a stereotypically modeled 60’s living room perched atop it. The second set piece, dwarfed by the first, was representative of a traditional game show. I like to be able to say that there was at least consistency in the cumbersome, but only a few scene changes later I found myself looking at what was intended to be a gymnasium, with only a basketball hoop and a few noose-like climbing ropes as indicators. This emptiness was underscored by a poor utilization of the space, making it feel quite barren. This mood did, however, ease up during a hectic dodgeball fight, but as the flurry of activity subsided, so did my aesthetic interest in what was happening onstage.
I was especially puzzled at the ceaseless fog effect throughout the show, and will subsequently cover the lighting design, as the two in this production were as inseparable as Coca and Cola. I was not puzzled as to what it meant, however; I assume it was intended to literalize the title of the piece, but rather who thought it would be such an excellent idea. Granted, it supported the lighting, and theatre is certainly an art form that must be approached with combined arms. But when scziophrenic spotlight operators are a significant problem, placing effort into making fantastical lighting effects through the use of a permanent and pervasive amount of stage fog should be low on a list of items to tackle. To be sure, I certainly became used to it, but in a way not unlike how homeowners living near a water reclamation facility become used to that smell. The fog, as it was, did not camouflage the fact that the stage was more often than not a minefield of dark spots, waiting for an actor to happen upon and blow away my efforts at enjoying the spectacle.
Not all is lost, though. I was, believe it or not, entertained occasionally, though not enough for the show to have reclaimed all of the ground it had already lost. In short, Seaweed was vivid, Tracy’s parents actually ended up endearing themselves to me, and the finale surprised me. In long, Seaweed was the shining gem in the cast. Although not as strong of a singer as some of the others, his movements were precise and flowing, and his choreography enchanting. In fact, his entire ‘crew’ piqued my interest the most, as it was clear that they took to their choreography the most naturally. The dominating force when onstage, Seaweed and his pals would more often than not become the sole entertaining feature of whatever scene they were in. Tracy’s parents were also a surprise, actually, for a change, entertaining me at the tail end of their duet. This sudden affinity was tempered by the amount of time it had taken me to warm to the characters, however, and plagued me in subsequent scenes. The finale was quite a pleasant surprise. It was as though the rest of the piece had been practice for a worthwhile final performance. First of all, the stage was actually utilized to its full extent for the first time. The lone set piece was quite conducive to having the cast onstage without looking or feeling cluttered. This led to the finale also picking up where the other numbers had dropped the ball: volume. The finale was loud and proud of that fact, something that the other pieces sorely lacked due to the twin evils of poor microphones as well as weak lead roles.
I didn’t like Hairspray, and I wouldn’t have even if I had granted it the allowances that the audience around me evidently did when they were giving it a standing ovation. I believe the effort should be appreciated as much as the next adoring parent whose “child is onstage during Theatre Fest oh-my-gosh.” I just don’t want to appreciate it for an abysmally long amount of time.
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