“Hair” at the Admiralspalast: We would recommend Ritalin
What crazy chickens these flower children were: Sometimes the actors are annoying, but their voices are consistently great
The lights are still on, and the hippies are already shaking up the establishment. Several members of the New York Broadway Musical Company ensemble walk between the rows of seats, rub up against guests or give compliments. A young singer proudly shows off her hairy armpits, an older couple takes a photo. That's it, the non-conformist spirit of the most famous musical of the counterculture, which is being revived tonight in the Admiralspalast. The idealistic hippies and the people who played them on stage were actually identical for a brief period of time, but that period closed again soon after 1968, the year of the premiere. Since then, every "Hair" performance has generally been like a costume party, including Miloš Forman's 1979 film adaptation, where the spirit of the late 70s was always noticeable in the blow-dried hairstyles and Treat Williams' bushy chest hair.
His character is also more of a bully than a revolutionary
The 16-person troupe on stage tonight, with their printed batik shirts, long-haired wigs and John Lennon glasses, is about as authentic as the Les Humphries Singers. The fact that a lot has happened in pop culture since 1968 is best seen in one's own associations. For example, the alpha male hippie Berger, played by Brett Davis, with his long curls, denim vest, sideburns and small belly, looks pretty much like Metallica singer James Hetfield in the mid-80s. His character is also more of a bully than a revolutionary; Davis proudly presents his bare bottom in a ridiculously short loincloth, makes farting noises or grabs the breasts of the feminist Sheila played by Jessica Dyer. Nothing is romanticized in a nostalgic way here; the director and former actor Andrew Carn seems to want to show in his production what crazy chickens these flower children were. When they outdo each other in provocations, interrupt each other or stubbornly repeat the most naive nonsense, they come across as naughty, annoying children. At one point, they throw LSD into each other's mouths in a communal ritual and you wish it was Ritalin or some other tranquilizer.
Also on stage is a band of inconspicuous-looking session musicians, who are virtually invisible beneath the singing sack of fleas. Without changing their expressions, they play the musical classics of composer Galt MacDermot in a smarmy blues-rock style, almost 30 songs that are performed by the American troupe in their original language. Nadine Kühn, the only German among the cast, sporadically translates from English. The pregnant Jeanie she plays, with her pot belly, green dress and tower hairstyle, looks like a mermaid stranded in Marzahn. The choreography itself is carefully organized chaos, the voices are consistently big. Newcomer Devin Holloway in particular amazes with a soulful voice that transcends gender and is sometimes reminiscent of Prince.
A penchant for incense sticks and diffuse Far Eastern esotericism
It is the first of five Berlin performances on a city tour lasting several weeks. In the audience there is also a group of young visitors from Afghanistan who are greatly amused by the men in women's clothing, by Berger smoking an oversized joint, or by the women in monks' robes chanting "Hare Krishna" who ride onto the stage in a sun chariot with "Shanti" written on it in children's handwriting. When the two main actors, Claude and Berger, accidentally kiss (the woman between them ducked away at the last moment), the whole audience laughs together. Beneath all the slapstick, the play's liberal ideals are only apparent at second glance. But perhaps the young Afghans will at least get an idea of why our society has such a soft spot for explicitly gay guys, incense sticks and vague Far Eastern esotericism.
“Let the Sunshine In” also works in a test-tube musical
In the second half after the break, the tempo and volume are reduced somewhat, the band now integrates pop elements into their dry rock, "Good Morning Starshine" even has a jazzy feel and would fit so well into the end credits of an 80s TV series like Traumschiff. The plaintive "Let the Sunshine In", on the other hand, works just as well in a test-tube musical, the drama surrounding the fallen soldier Claude is still overwhelming, even though the Vietnam War is long over and soap bubbles are blowing from the edge of the stage into the audience, who are now clapping and dancing along.
That's what we would really like to do: bring the members of the original cast into the present with a time capsule and watch this piece with them and talk about what came of it and how it should be done today.