The 1988 John Waters comedy film Hairspray had a nostalgic ’60s focus when it came out, and now the film itself is an object of nostalgia. That double-whammy of fond memories is apparently a huge draw, because the Marian Theatre was packed for PCPA’s presentation of a musical adaptation.
This show opened on Broadway just nine years ago and went on to win eight Tony Awards, including Best Musical. In 2007, the piece returned to the big screen as a movie musical. In all incarnations, it’s a love letter to any misfit who longs for a moment in the spotlight.
In 1962 Baltimore, plus-sized, rock-crazed teen Tracy Turnblad (PCPA regular Bree Murphy) dreams of dancing on the local TV program The Corny Collins Show. When Tracy surprisingly gets her shot at stardom, she uses it as a platform to help bring integration to the show’s all-white main cast and the cast of “Negro Day,” which airs “once a month.”
DeAnne Kennedy’s set is a loving homage to the mod backdrop of a typical ’60s dance show, featuring a stylized sketch of the Baltimore skyline.
The opening number, “Good Morning, Baltimore,” establishes the tone of sunny musical-comedy optimism with a quirky twist. Tracy sings: “Good morning, Baltimore! There’s the flasher who lives next door! There’s the bum on his barroom stool! They wish me luck on my way to school!”
Murphy, while clearly not “old,” is clearly not a teenager. It’s easy to see why she was cast in the young role, though, with her big, belting voice, infectious enthusiasm, and energetic dance moves. Her obvious adulthood can be a distraction during the early squealing teen fangirl scenes, but it becomes easier to overlook as the character grows in maturity.
Tracy’s mother Edna is a reclusive laundress whose daughter accuses her of being “stuck in the ’50s.” Edna has faced rejection in the past due to her weight, and she wants to protect Tracy from the same fate. Like heroines in Shakespeare’s time, the role of Edna is traditionally played by a man.
Sam Zeller handles her here. He played the very, very different role of Jean Valjean in PCPA’s production of Les Miserables—and once again, he has some big shoes to fill. Originated by drag artist Divine, Edna was played on Broadway by Harvey Fierstein and in the movie musical by John Travolta.
Zeller revels in hamming up the drag aspect, showing some leg and scoring huge laughs from the audience. But he’s also sympathetic as a woman who’s reluctantly discovering the freedom of the new decade she’s living in. “Welcome to the ’60s” is one of the most joyous numbers.
It’s impressive how effortlessly PCPA performers can completely freeze in place while an elaborate musical number is going on just across the stage from them. In this case, Zeller gets frozen in some very funny extreme expressions.
Josh Machamer plays Tracy’s father, Wilbur, who’s living his dream of owning a novelty shop, The Har De Har Hut. As played by Machamer, he’s the ideal husband and father—sweet, supportive, but again, with that distinctive John Waters quirkiness mixed in to keep things from getting sappy.
As a result of Tracy’s ever-inflating hair blocking the blackboard in class, she’s sent to detention, where she meets Seaweed Stubbs (Sterling Sulieman), one of the “Negro Day” dancers who introduces her to some hot new moves. It’s pretty much a plot point that they’re both incredible dancers, and both performers deliver.
Cicily Daniels plays Seaweed’s mother, “Negro Day” DJ Motormouth Maybelle. She comes across pretty naturally, despite the fact that almost all of her character’s dialogue is in rhyme. (Even the characters in Seussical: The Musical didn’t speak continuously in rhyme.) She even transitions smoothly from rhyming dialogue into one of the show’s most serious moments, the gospel-style civil rights anthem “I Know Where I’ve Been” (a showcase for her powerful voice).
But Tracy faces opposition from Corny Collins’ producer, Velma Van Tussle (Allison F. Rich), who is determined to maintain the status quo, with her daughter Amber (Jillian Van Neil) as the svelte starlet of a segregated show. Rich goes from sneering to the heights of villainous cackling as she sings of the glory days of her youth, when she won the title of “Miss Baltimore Crabs.” Corny Collins (George Walker) himself is actually a progressive thinker, even though his onstage persona is just as amusingly “corny” as you’d expect. Tracy may steal the show from Amber in the story, but Van Neil steals a few scenes of her own—as does Natasha Harris, who plays Tracy’s geeky best friend, Penny Pingleton. And PCPA regular Elizabeth Stuart steals scenes just by walking onstage as three different broad comic caricatures: Penny’s ultraconservative Christian mother, a manly gym teacher, and a militaristic prison matron.
The object of Tracy’s affection (and Amber’s boyfriend), Link Larkin (Josh Keating), starts off as a shallow teen heartthrob, but just might have more heart than he realizes. (Link was played in the movie musical by former Arroyo Grande resident Zac Efron.) Keating is charming when he calls Tracy “little darlin’” and endearing as he (much to his own bewilderment) starts falling
for her.
The overall sound of the score (by Mark Shamain and Scott Wittman) is upbeat bubblegum meets musical comedy showtune. The adult characters occasionally reminisce to the pop sounds of an earlier era, in numbers like Velma’s “Miss Baltimore Crabs” and Wilbur and Edna’s “You’re Timeless to Me.” At the attended performance, the audience spontaneously began clapping along with the Entr’acte.
Michael Jenkinson is both director and choreographer, a plus in a musical in which dancing plays such a central role. Jenkinson’s choreography is always the highlight of a PCPA musical, and this one is no exception. The entire cast is incredible, and the ensemble numbers are spectacular. The costumes (Frederick P. Deeben) and, of course, the hair are retro fabulous, especially Tracy’s symbolic two-toned quaff and the delightfully kitschy fashions Edna dons once she starts coming out of her shell.
The big showstopper is the finale, “You Can’t Stop the Beat,” which is one of the catchiest songs of all time. You literally can’t stop the beat from seeping into your soul and making you want to dance—and why would you want to? m
Freelancer Brent Parker taps into the motion of the ocean. Contact him through Arts Editor Shelly Cone at scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Jun 23-30, 2011.