Normally, to describe a work of narrative art—a novel, play, or opera—as “uneven” is to offer polite condemnation, suggesting a disappointing experience that points a finger at the author’s inability to hold the story aloft. We shake our heads, mutter something nice about the high points, then whisper criticism more harshly. HAIR: The American Love-Rock Musical, performed this past weekend by actor-singers from St. Joseph Notre Dame High School’s theater department, was uneven, but wow, when it was good, which was often, it was magnificent. I did look and listen at times in bafflement at odd scenes and songs, but both the start and end of this musical was so cathartic that I wept from the power of the iconic numbers sung with strength and passion by these remarkable kids.
Now, before extrapolating the praise of the opening paragraph, I feel compelled to notify you, dear readers, that when I was a kid back in the ’70s my wavy brown hair extended past my shoulders. I also wore bell bottoms and those sandals with the tire tread bottoms. But I swear on my patchouli oil, I only said groovy sarcastically. I was a fringe hippie minus the fringe. Regarding the hair in HAIR, I can only say that it was long, beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming flaxen waxen. Directed by Elijah Jalil Paz Fisher—himself the owner/grower of phenomenal locks—the performers’ coiffures and costumes were authentic and terrific. I’m sure more than one mom said to her seatmate, “She’s wearing the blouse I wore when I was her age.”
Also real and really good was the set. Designer Austine de los Santos did something subtly moving—posting signs from then (“End the War,” “Give Peace a Chance”) alongside those of now (“BLM,” “Free Palestine”). This interweaving of past and present was perhaps an unexpected dichotomous motif. These were teenage performers living through a time of horrible military atrocities portraying young people traumatized by war and their possible non-voluntary participation. The social issues of marijuana and sexuality of that era have morphed but are not gone today. The pregnancy of one character, played wonderfully by Sylvienne Karlstrand, made me realize that HAIR was created in a pre-Roe world, and was performed last week in our post-Roe era. It also occurred to me at some point how hair length and style, and who has dominion over the growth (“Me!” screamed myself and my peers to our combative parents) is similar to the declaration of gender and subsequent pronoun preferences being announced today. It is the marker of distinction between the elder generation and their offspring who devoutly and desperately want to be different.
The greatness of HAIR: The American Love-Rock Musical, comes from the greatness of many of its iconic songs. James Witherspoon as Claude, whose struggle to accept or reject his drafting into the war is the core plot, sings “Manchester” most joyfully. The beautiful “Good Morning Starshine” was beautifully performed by Kaitlin Amaro, and Samantha Fong’s “Age of Aquarius” was stunning. Special applause goes to Kaedn Baquiran who handled “Frank Mills” all alone onstage with perhaps the finest voice of all.
Praise was also earned by the choreography crew of Ava Cerefice, Elijah Jalil Paz Fisher, Jordan Fernandez, Ananda Hutcherson, Lauren Rosi, Adairia Watson. To artfully wrangle a cast so large, to make movement art that flatters the voices and songs, is the glory of all musicals, and especially this one.
A final comment if I may, an explanation of my crying fore and aft. I know this show from the songs that made the leap from stage to radio way back before Spotify. When I hear them now I smile from reminiscence. But when this heart-driven crew opened with “Age of Aquarius,” I was reminded of the hope of that time, the pronouncement that the world will be different, we will make it so, we will be better, live together, abolish prejudice, celebrate the individual and care for one another and the earth. And when the show ended, with these very same young beautiful actors singing “Let the Sunshine In” with voices almost screaming, I felt their pleading, their pledge, to us, to themselves, that we still must strive for all those same things—peace, justice, and love.
Thank you Director Fisher for your outstanding work on this show, and especially for choosing it. Too many musicals are slim on meaning and instead lean mostly into fun. This show was fun—the shrieks of delight from the audience still ring in my ears—but HAIR is historic and heavy in the best possible way. Thank you also to the helpers and crew, the parents, teachers and staff who attended, and especially to the teenage performers. There was happiness and promise in everything you did.
Gene Kahane is the founder of the Foodbank Players, a lifelong teacher, and former Poet Laureate for the City of Alameda. Reach him at [email protected]. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Gene-Kahane.
