"Once on This Island"

Theatre review
"Once on This Island" at the Hangar Theatre
Ithaca Times
June 24, 2009
746 words
"Crossed Lovers"

full text here

Crossed Lovers

Mark Tedeschi

"Once on This Island," book and lyrics by Lynn Ahrens, music by Stephen Flaherty. Directed by Jesse Bush. Starring Lauren Davis, Jamal Lee Harris, Brianna Horne, James Jackson, Jr., Isaiah Johnson, Joaquina Kalukango, Jewell Payne, Frank Viveros, Jacque Tara Washington, Raena White, Darryl Jovan Williams. With scenic and lighting designer Steve TenEyck, costume designer Kenann Quander, sound designer Don Tindall, musical director J. Oconer Navarro, and choreographer Cjay Philip.

Packing over 20 attention-grabbing musical numbers in under two hours, Once on This Island, the Hangar Theatre's second mainstage production of the summer, will have you humming long after you've left the theatre.

Set in the French Antilles, Once on This Island is based on Rosa Guy's 1985 novel "My Love, My Love," itself a Caribbean reworking of Hans Christian Anderson's "The Little Mermaid." The plot, told here as a story within a story, deals with the socio-racial complications of a pair of star-cross'd lovers, Ti Moune (Joaquina Kalukango) and Daniel (Jamal Lee Harris). At the Hangar, Jesse Bush directs, spotlighting the best elements and carrying the show with engaging kinetics.

Don Tindall's sound design kicks the show into gear with a noisy thunderstorm that shakes up a peasant village, particularly one young girl (Jewell Payne) whom the villagers rush to comfort with the escapist warmth of a good story. The storytellers act as the characters in their tale; in "We Dance," they introduce the setting, similar to their own, that's ruled by four "powerful, temperamental gods": Asaka, Mother of the Earth (Raena White); Agawé, God of Water (Frank Viveros); Erzulie, Goddess of Love (Brianna Horne); and Papa Ge, Demon of Death (Isaiah Johnson). At first, it's a little tough to parse the cast's faithfully thick Caribbean accents, but the dialect becomes transparent once they roll through the unfamiliar names.

Following a torrential flood, Mama (Jacque Tara Washington) and Tonton (James Jackson, Jr.) discover an orphaned child, spared by the gods, crying in a tree. The ebullient girl is also played by Payne, a student at Ithaca's Boyton Middle School who handily tackles Cjay Philip's vibrant choreography. Mama and Tonton adopt the girl, name her Ti Moune, and poof! She grows up ("One Small Girl").

During "Rain," Daniel - a lighter-skinned young man of the wealthy, French-descended Beauxhomme family - loses control of his car and suffers a nasty crash. Ti Moune discovers him and, through protests from everyone in her family, brings him back to the village, caring for him and praying to the gods. But when Tonton treks to the Beauxhomme mansion to report their discovery, they promptly retrieve Daniel, despite Ti Moune's insistence that her love is the only thing keeping him alive. In "Forever Yours," she offers Papa Ge her own life in place of Daniel's. Papa Ge accepts, knowing that he will return eventually.

In the second act, Ti Moune finds the Hotel Beauxhomme and steals into Daniel's bedroom. After he awakes and realizes who she is, they admit their love for each other, ignoring the cultural distance between them. In "Some Girls," the only full-length, single-performer number in the show, Harris as Daniel belts an earnest solo praising Ti Moune for her unaffected perspective on life. Later, though, the divide proves sturdier than Ti Moune anticipated; Daniel's father Armand (Darryl Jovan Williams) tells him in "Pray (Reprise)," "You are my son / You'll do what must be done / No matter how you feel."

Kalukango proves herself a skilled leading lady, working through Ti Moune's deceptively acrobatic vocal parts in songs like "Waiting for Life" and stopping the show in its tracks during "Ti Moune's Dance" at the ball. In the latter number, Johnson accompanies her on a conga over the orchestra's euphonious, percussive Afro-Caribbean beats. As Papa Ge, Johnson gives his performance a laudable blend of snide causticism and demonic duty.

Kenann Quander's costumes fit the milieu: worn-and-torn garments for the peasants and more regal wear for the Grandes Hommes. Both allow ample movement, since the many musical interludes and crafty staging demands it.

Stephen TenEyck, lighting and scenic designer, endows the stage with a few crucial elements for a poverty-stricken village. Some crates and faded shack doorways fill one side of the stage, but standing out across the background and at the show's thematic root is a large two-dimensional tree, monochrome until the light points at it just right. Thatchy steps lead up to its branches, allowing Ti Moune to bound up and down at will.

That tree, where Ti Moune was first discovered, signifies the villagers' kinship with the Earth and their relationship with the gods. They knew they would learn from Ti Moune, and her unshakable belief in love as a power transcendent of all others is why they continue to tell her story. Guiltless optimism in the face of misfortune, amplified in the Hangar's production, is precisely what makes Once on This Island so enjoyable.


Ti Moune (Joaquina Kalukango) in the Hangar Theatre’s production of “Once On This Island.” (Photo by Thomas Hoebbel Photography)
Members of the cast of ‘MASS,’ at Cornell’s Schwartz Center. (Photo provided)

"Hedwig and the Angry Inch"

Theatre review
"Hedwig and the Angry Inch" at the Hangar Theatre
Ithaca Times
August 20, 2008
739 words
"All That Glitters"

full text here

All That Glitters
By: Mark Tedeschi
08/20/2008

Hedwig and the Angry Inch," by John Cameron Mitchell with music and lyrics by Stephen Trask. Directed by Michael Donald Edwards and starring Aaron Berk and S.J. Pickett. Set design by David L. Meyer, costumes by Gretchen Darrow-Crotty, lighting by Jason Read, sound by Jonathan Herter. With stage manager Kelly A. Borgia and technical director Colin Stewart.

Nearly everything about John Cameron Mitchell's "Hedwig and the Angry Inch," from its furiously black humor to its bizarro title, is unconventional. It's a concept musical: a stage show presented as a rock concert-cum-performance art piece starring a charismatic character of ambiguous gender. Hedwig, the title 'raconteuse' recalls her life for the audience via engaging storytelling, ribald stand-up comedy, and rocking out, backed by her enthusiastic band of Yugoslavian refugees.

"Hedwig" is well-suited to be produced anywhere, since the show is staged as a gig in a traveling tour. In the Hangar Theatre's current production, Hedwig authenticates the Ithaca placement by mentioning landmarks like Stewart Park and Moosewood. But lending an even more bona fide if intangible sensation of uniformity are the principals' familiarity with the material and each other; the director (Michael Donald Edwards) and two leads (Aaron Berk, donning the Hedwig wig for his fifth time, and S.J. Pickett - also the musical director - playing another questionably sexed, powerhouse-voiced band member named Yitzhak) put on "Hedwig" at the Syracuse Stage four years ago.

Before the show even begins, we're treated to some wonderful sights and sounds, the latter gifted by Lou Reed and Iggy Pop. Scenic designer David L. Meyer has married a disarrayed East Germany, where Hedwig was raised, with glam-rock razzle-dazzle: a backdrop of wooden planks and graffiti over a catwalked, stars-and-stripes stage floor complete with the transgender astronomical symbol. Audience members seated at bar tables up front allow Berk to better interact with and respond to the crowd. The set has a few neat surprises, too: for one, Matthew Farrow-coordinated projections of sketches and (unfortunately, sometimes illegible) words correspond with the music.

The four "Angry Inch" band members (Dillon Kondor, Josh Oxford, Steve Reichlen, Ben Reynolds) enter, clad in bang-up black leather, courtesy of costume designer Gretchen Darrow-Crotty. Yitzhak - timid, bearded, and baggy-clothed - introduces Hedwig, who braves the stage with thick-glitter makeup, big hair, a corset, and gray stiletto boots, which, mercifully for Berk, are changed by the doting Yitzhak midway through the sub-two-hour show.

Hedwig tells her tale: Born to a single mother, Hedwig (né Hansel) is a poor boy who escapes oppression through passion for listening to rock music. Eventually, he's noticed by "Sugar Daddy" American GI Luther Robinson; they fall in love and Robinson offers to bring Hansel back to the United States. Before they're allowed to marry, Hansel needs sexual reassignment surgery, but the doctors botch the operation, leaving Hansel, now Hedwig, with a functionless "one-inch mound of flesh."

They fly to Kansas, and after a year, Robinson leaves Hedwig for another man. So Hedwig moves into a trailer, forms a band, and begins a complicated romantic relationship with a teenage boy, Tommy. After they write a few songs together, their popularity as a group escalates. Following a highly publicized auto accident, Tommy leaves her and catapults into rock superstardom. Hedwig resents her lack of deserved credit and follows Tommy's countrywide tour with her own... including this particular stop in Ithaca.

That's pretty much everything, but the story, while beautiful and original, isn't as important as the experience. The band, made up of carefully selected IC music students or graduates, express agile musicianship and prowess; the songs range from raging metal-ish numbers to soft, heartbreaking ballads. Jason Read's spirited lighting design simulates a rock concert with strobes, sharp color changes, and ever sweeping spots. Jonathan Herter's sound design is largely articulate, but in louder numbers, the band, while terrific, drowns Stephen Trask's enchanting lyrics.

The music, like the dialogue, encompasses multifaceted emotion. "The Origin of Love" is epic, "Angry Inch" seething, "Wig in a Box" toe-tapping, and "Sugar Daddy" jocular. Speckled between the songs are rim-shot groaners, generally adults-only jokes I can't repeat here. Hedwig plainly explains her stylistic blend of comedy with tragedy: "I laugh, because if I don't, I'll cry."

Finally, there's the matter of the make-or-break lead performer. Berk, under Edwards's confident, cohesive direction, is spot-on; he walks, talks, and sings like a female rock star better than most contemporary female rock stars. He allows you to experience Hedwig's life as she relates it, through the brilliant ups and tearjerking downs of a gifted musician with the world's worst luck.

If you didn't know, Mitchell created "Hedwig" as a Broadway show, and then adapted, directed, and starred in a film version. It's excellent, but I recommend you attend the live version first. And now you have a chance.


©Ithaca Times 2008

"The Playboy of the Western World"

Theatre review
"The Playboy of the Western World" at the Hangar Theatre
Ithaca Times
August 8, 2008
689 words
"Murder, He Wrote"

full text here

Murder, He Wrote
By: Mark Tedeschi
08/06/2008

"The Playboy of the Western World" by John Millington Synge. Directed by Robert Moss. Starring Don Amendolia, Freddy Arsenault, Ian Boley, Christian Conn, Emily Robin Fink, Gretchen Hall, Rachel Johanson, Zachary Kamin, Christine Marquet, John Michalski, Claire Morrison, Ted Nappi, Evin Rose, Brendan Sokler, Mitch Tiffany. Set by David Meyer, costumes by Gretchen Darrow-Crotty, lighting by Matt Richards, sound by Eric Watkins, fight direction by Norm Johnson.

John Millington Synge's "The Playboy of the Western World," a dark comedy filled with love and loquacity, suspect storytelling, and aphrodisiacal parricide, is playing now at the Hangar Theatre. The dialogue is thick and the accents heavy, so if you go, be sure to bring your utmost attention along.

Robert Moss - Artistic Director of the Hangar from 1981-1996 - has returned to direct a credentialed cast of deft actors, particularly the five principals, in the most revered - and infamous - play in Synge's catalogue. Moss's and his cast's task seems fatiguing; Synge's dialogue can take a toll on an ear unfamiliar with Irish colloquialisms and speech patterns (there is a helpful three-word glossary in the program notes, but it's about as many pages too short). Inevitably, the dialogue will sometimes slip by the most acute of hearers, but befuddlement is a mark of authenticity: It sounds correct (and even beautiful, thanks to Moss and master vocal coach Thom Jones), if sporadically thwarting.

Because of the potential confusion, it's a good thing the compelling story is kept straightforward: Set in a pub on the rural coast of County Mayo, Ireland in 1907, "Playboy" takes place around the time it was premiered in Dublin. Low-volume wave crashes in Watkins's sound design subtly remind of the local ambience. A disordered man, Christy Mahon (Conn, portraying brilliantly Christy's crescendo of confidence), appears at the pub, owned by Michael James (Amendolia, and Seinfeld fans, just try and hide your excitement at seeing Kramer's neighbor Dennis from "The Rye").

Christy stumbles in wearing dirtied work clothing (Darrow-Crotty mostly sticks to a pleasing motif of small-town rusticity). There, he meets the barmaid, Michael's daughter, nicknamed Peegen Mike (Hall, smartly alternating staunch and fickle), a keen lady betrothed to Shawn Keogh (Arsenault, tragic in his justified cowardice).

Christy reveals that he has recently killed his abusive father, and here's where I'll offer a dialogue sample, spoken by Christy about his victim: "He a man'd be raging all times, the while he was waking... shying clods against the visage of the stars till he'd put the fear of death into the banbhs and the screeching sows." See?

The tale of murder-by-loy (that's a shovel) captivates the town, especially the women. Christy has the advantage of being a generally interesting chap, as if he'd been long thirsty for a chance to try out his charm. The Widow Quin (Fink) takes a liking enough to compete against Peegen's, and gains ammunition when she learns more about the titular Playboy.

Other acting standouts include Michalski, who belts the cast's best brogue through a voice of virtuosic inflection and character, and Amendolia, who besides having a bit part in a sitcom 12 years ago (in all seriousness, he has several other TV and film credits), can superbly play drunk, a feat often cited by actors as one of the hardest states to perform convincingly.

Michael James's pub is almost a character itself; scenic designer Meyer gave it a cozy fireplace and a small, inviting bar enclosed inside, worn rock walls to exude a dynamic homeyness buttressed by the oft-used walkway outside, visible on either side of the stage. Under Richards's lighting design, the pub takes on a completely different look in darkness and daytime, as real buildings do.

During its initial run, "Playboy" was met with protests - even riots - from Irish citizens offended by the play's moral callousness. In "Playboy," the townspeople's barely restrained jubilation - and more, the women's obvious sexual interest - about housing an in-cold-blood murderer is one of the most interesting elements in the play.

The dialogue, though also a strong, important part of the structure and atmosphere, is in parts a weakness: a few portions of early-third-act conversation stretch much longer than is needed. And I take issue with its billing as a comedy; the dialogue is clever, but the jokes were thin.

It's strange that an audience a century ago might have opinions opposite to mine regarding the play's content. Some of the words in "The Playboy of the Western World" may now sound outdated and unfamiliar, but its curious and engaging story was well ahead of its time.


©Ithaca Times 2008

"Oklahoma!"

Theatre review
"Oklahoma!" at the Hangar Theatre
Ithaca Times
July 16, 2008
730 words
"It's a Ho Down!"

full text here

It's a Ho Down!
By: Mark Tedeschi
07/16/2008

"Oklahoma!" directed and choreographed by Dan Knechtges. Music by Richard Rogers, book and lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein. Starring Whit Baldwin, Joseph Breen, Caitlyn Caughell, Piper Goodeve, Dan Kiely, Joanna Krupnick, Mark Leydorf, Judy McMahon, Sorab Wadia. Scenic design by Beowulf Boritt, costumes by Janifer Caprio, lighting by Aaron Spivey, sound by Don Tindall.

Early last year, the government of Saskatchewan launched a campaign to add an exclamation mark to their province's name; according to a handbook of guidelines, the special punctuation was reserved for "optimistic" messages as on billboards and websites. Their rare use of the stamp of exuberance on a proper name was perhaps inspired by the buoyant select few entertainment productions that also provide a home to the mark: "Jeopardy!", "Airplane!", "Oliver!", "Oh! Calcutta!", and a classic paragon of optimism, the musical play "Oklahoma!"

In its introductory incarnation (originally called "Away We Go" - the exclamation mark on the new title was a last-minute addition), Rogers and Hammerstein's "Oklahoma!" (based on a 1931 Lynn Riggs play, "Green Grow the Lilacs") broke ground as a musical with a wider range of drama and better music/story cohesion than audiences had come to expect. It was grounded in a dawn-of-a-new-era sanguineness not always as prevalent in theatre nowadays. The staff at the Hangar Theatre recognized this absence and decided to stage a revival - a successful, dynamic, and wholly enjoyable revival.

The story unfolds in the early 1900s on an Indian Territory that would eventually become the state of Oklahoma. Curly (Baldwin), a spirited cowboy, kicks off the show with the iconic "Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'." He and farm girl Laurey (Goodeve) exhibit a Calvin-and-Susie relationship, one that's in plain sight but that each refuses to admit.

Their stubbornness runs them into trouble when Jud, a shady farm hand, asks Laurey to a box social and she accepts just to get a rise out of Curly. He visits Jud and sings "Poor Jud is Daid," a protracted, veiled insult that segues into an exchange of direct confrontation (and later evolves into a fight, directed by Norm Johnson).

Meanwhile, Laurey's malleable friend Ado Annie (Goodeve), admits in the showstopping number "I Cain't Say No!" that she's easily influenced by men - this time, by the Persian peddler Ali Hakim (Wadia). Hakim was unaware she had a sometimes-boyfriend, Will Parker (Breen), but once her father, Carnes (Kiely), decides Hakim is the man for her, he laments his in-too-deep situation and tries endlessly to remove himself from it.

Director Dan Knechtges endows most of the show with an involved poignance, the same element that gave "Oklahoma!" such a successful audience response on Broadway in 1943. The impressive dance numbers, particularly "Kansas City," "Many a New Day," and "The Farmer and the Cowman," show Knechtges's knack for solid choreography and the ensemble's collective dancing talent. "Dream Ballet," being a great dance sequence, stands out as a beautiful spectacle of lighting (Spivey), set design switchery (Boritt), and sound (Tindall).

In other scenes, the set design also cooperates with the lighting. The burlap-patched background and painted clouds over muted brown tones evoke a farming landscape of the South Central United States. And though the lighting is pleasant and consistent per location in the story, it occasionally shakes noticeably over stationary characters, and the paper lanterns, though a neat idea, distract with their constant jiggling.

The casting in "Oklahoma!" is phenomenal, thanks to casting director Alan Filderman. Krupnick and Goodeve both shone brightly among the giant cast of last year's production of "Hair" at the Hangar; here, they work together seamlessly and seize the spotlight when their turn comes. The same is true of Baldwin, a newcomer to the Hangar who has most certainly proven himself. All three demonstrate singing voices both powerful and crisp. The only troublesome acting comes from McMahon (playing Aunt Eller) who stumbled over a few lines on opening night, a shame since the rest of her dialogue ("Ain't nobody gonna slug out anything - this here's a party!") was delivered quite well.

The writing, by today's standards, shows flaws toward the end. Aunt Eller gives a speech about prosperity's necessitating hardiness and steadfastness; without revealing too much, the tension is hastily resolved using neither of those qualities, and everything again turns blithe almost instantly.

Not that blithe is inherently bad. The acting and music (played by John Bell, Walter Stinson, and Josh Oxford) in "Oklahoma!" are enough to sustain interest, and maybe Rogers and Hammerstein deserve a break for taking that dramatic risk, slight as it may now seem. But one can't get by on optimism alone; in tough times, rather, it should be fuel for resilience. And, if the option is there, exclamation marks can only help!


©Ithaca Times 2008

"No Child..."

Theatre review
"No Child..." at the Hangar Theatre
Ithaca Times
June 25, 2008
727 words
"Stands, and delivers"

full text here

Stands, and delivers
By: Mark Tedeschi
06/25/2008

"No Child..." by Nilaja Sun. Directed by Wendy Dann. Starring Rachael Holmes. Scenic design by Kathryn Kawecki, costume design by Jennifer Caprio, lighting by Daniel Meeker, sound by Sarah Pickett.

Anyone who either teaches children or watches television knows by now that the No Child Left Behind Act has, in its current application, serious problems. Opponents of the act maintain that inner-city schools in particular face hurdles that only a restructuring or extensive reconsidering of the current education policy could address.

Until someone in the higher echelons takes action for change, all the rest can do is speculate and, for those more daring, gamble. In the Hangar Theatre's latest one-woman production, No Child..., the main character (Sun, named after the original award-winning Off Broadway show's writer and performer) takes a risk and tries a new technique to engage a diverse Bronx classroom of 10th grade students. While her efforts are commendable (and star Rachel Holmes's performance expert), the air of the show leaves behind a few important considerations.

Rachael Holmes fluidly bounces without a beat in and out of all of the show's 16 characters, including Janitor Baron (the play's de facto narrator), an uneasy Asian schoolteacher (Ms. Tam), a Jamaican security guard, the typical education-standards-concerned principal (Mrs. Kennedy), eight different students of various ethnic and social backgrounds, and Sun, the thirtysomething teaching artist who's brought in by Mrs. Kennedy to introduce the kids to theatre.

Sun chooses Our Country's Good, a 1988 play by Timberlake Wertenbaker, for its theme of theatre as a tool of motivation and elevation. As expected, the students act with defensive hesitation at first. Sun shows patience with assertion, and her presence and ideas seem all it takes to metamorphose the classroom - for example, she politely insists they refrain from using swear words; they comply, and if they slip, they instantly apologize.

The kids take to the new material. Their enthusiasm and participation build until the class gets a sudden replacement teacher whose strictness reawakens their antagonism. They lose interest and the frustrated Sun quits. Later, Janitor Baron dies in the story but continues narrating, ostensibly so the students and Sun can recommit and dedicate the play's performance to him (and writer Sun can make an Arthur Miller reference).

Holmes demonstrates a vast range of capability with her unassuming, consistent performance. Each of her characters has a physical tic (arms locked at the elbows, a tummy rub, a collar pull) and embodies a realistic vibe of youthful attitude.

Unfortunately, real kids aren't always that funny; repeatedly they jab at the similarity between "thespian" and "lesbian" and joyfully sing a Justin Timberlake tune when they hear the name of the guy who wrote the play they're to study. Holmes's most emotionally charged moment, though, comes in a conversation between Sun and Mrs. Kennedy regarding standards and the students' potential.

No Child... looks and sounds excellent, and at under 80 minutes, stays enjoyable and concise throughout. The lighting stands out in the show's bookending slow crawls and a montage-style sequence when the students perform the play (-within-a-play-within-a-play). The sparse, smart set contains a few of the grungy elements you'd expect to see in a city school: a scuffed floor, beat-up lockers, an old drinking fountain. And the quiet hum of kids' chattering between metal-detector squeals and school-bus rumbles keeps the focus on Holmes's acting.

Though it's engaging, No Child... is not without problems. It creates for itself a duplicitous identity crisis: the narrator suggests that change couldn't possibly come from one starry-eyed educator's influence, but without exaggeration, that's exactly what Sun supposedly accomplishes.

In the end, the idealism seems almost too optimistic, since the hasty epilogue (which includes a confusing joke about renaming the high school) itemizes the varied futures of several students without any further mention of their educational upbringing.

Were No Child... longer, it almost certainly would have benefited from more actors and fleshier parts for some of the characters who had to be reduced to a slurred lisp or bucked teeth. The issues plead for a deeper dig than such a short (if well-intentioned), one-person performance can realistically achieve. (HBO's "The Wire" spent an entire season on the difficulties of testing new methods in a city school.)

The strongest suggestion No Child... does make is that there are potentially effective alternatives - especially found in the arts - to standardization. Experimentation should be encouraged, albeit scrupulously. As Janitor Baron says, "Teaching is the hardest job in the whole wide world...they're underpaid, underappreciated, and underpaid." I can't help but agree with him there.


©Ithaca Times 2008

"Hair"

Theatre review
"Hair" at the Hangar Theatre
Ithaca Times
July 25, 2007
790 words

"Tripping out on 'Hair'"

full text here

Tripping Out on 'Hair'
By: Mark Tedeschi
07/25/2007

Hair, book and lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado, music by Galt MacDermot. Directed by Kevin Moriarty, choreographed by Rachel Lampert and Sara Lampert Hoover, set design by Jo Winiarski, costumes by Greg Robbins, lighting by Tyler Micoleau, sound design by Don Tindall. Starring Gregory Maheu, Robert Adelman Hancock, Piper Goodeve, Danny Mefford, Jonathan David, Derrick Cobey, Joanna Krupnick, Jill Knox, Celeste Sayles, and Tiffany Nichole Greene. Accompanied by IY: Dave Billings, Chris Frank, Nate Terepka and John Zinder; conducted by Joel Gelpe, music direction by Kevin Long.



When I took my seat as I arrived at "Hair," a handful of young guys sat near me. One asked, "Are these our seats?" Realizing he didn't know, he said, "With the spirit of this show, you should sit wherever you want. If you even paid to be here, you're breaking the rules." He made an amusing point (and he did find his real seat), but "Hair" is easily worth the price of admission.

Get there a few minutes early to watch the "Happening" - it helps get the audience ready for some theatrical participation -­ ­­that occurs before the show "officially" starts. The merrily arbitrary activities from the Happening on opening night (they're different for each show) included "soundscape dawn" and "move a giant egg."

Then the actors dance, clap, stomp, bang tambourines, hoot and holler until they collectively decide the show should start - but they're in no rush, and the transition from hippie unpredictability to the booming, energetic opening number, "Aquarius," is absolutely seamless.

In "Hair," plot doesn't really take a back seat to spectacle; the atypical nature of the sights and sounds simply overwhelm it. The story follows a group - actually, tribe - of friends in New York City during the Summer of Love (1967 - this summer is its 40th anniversary) who live together and relish in their happy-go-lucky lifestyle.

The characters include Claude (Maheu), the blond-locked leader of the tribe and the only one who submits to his duty when the men are drafted; Berger (Hancock), a wild kid hell-bent on insubordination; Sheila (Goodeve), a pretty girl with a vigorous voice; Woof (Mefford), a bisexual young man who augments the collective exuberance; Hud (Cobey), a soulful Black Panther with a giant afro; Jeanie (Krupnick), a pregnant stoner who declares her love for Claude; and a flock of others.

Be on your toes; the Happening doesn't stop as "Aquarius" begins. Throughout "Hair," the audience is as much a part of the show as the actors. Winiarski has re-imagined the space of the Hangar to surround the actors with spectators, couches on stage included, as well as to give ample room for the actors to carouse around inside the audience. The connection seems so intuitive and unabashed that if someone from the audience jumped up and started dancing with the cast, the actors probably wouldn't bat an eyelash (but don't really do that - unless you're invited).

A viny ladder leading to the overhead catwalk and an almost-climbable cage surrounding IY's drummer (the band is also right on stage) extend the space further into the third dimension. The walls are lined with pots and pans, an American flag, and paintings of zodiac symbols, huge eyeballs and tie-dye swirls. This setup works closely with Lampert's fierce choreography and Moriarty's confident direction to use as much of the space as possible.

And the music! The song-to-dialogue ratio in "Hair" surpasses that of most typical shows; the stream-of-consciousness, non-sequitor flow of songs mirrors the lack of focus that the characters savor. Some memorable numbers of the first act are "Sodomy" and "Colored Spade" (two satiric jump-right-in numbers about sexual proclivities and racial slurs), "I Got Life" (a high-spirited list affirming one's body parts), and, of course, "Hair" (a hearty celebration of tresses, curls and manes). "Where Do I Go" introduces one of the most memorably surreal act breaks of all time, involving a wealth of nudity aptly softened by low red lighting.

Act two opens with a jam tune ("Electric Blues") by Ithaca's IY, a classically trained band that look ecstatic to be there. Where else would they have the opportunity to play such groovy music from the Golden Age of Rock with this level of enthusiasm? They hold their own during the face-tripping-acid and strobe-light-stoner-rock numbers - which is what much of the second act consists of. "Black Boys," "White Boys," "Abie Baby" and the classic "Good Morning, Starshine" are just a few elements in the hallucinatory compendium of stereotypes, pop culture, history, politics and generally joyful nonsense.

Throughout "Hair" I found myself wishing that I'd been alive during that historic summer. I had to rethink my jealousy when I realized there was a malaise setting in: Claude goes to war, the tribe's trip ends, and they face, well, reality. But when the closer, "Let the Sunshine In," reaches the height of its crescendo, the celebratory free-for-all makes the depressing return to Earth feel worth it.

"Hair," which rivals any rock concert I've ever been to, reminded me of just how different today's youth culture is becoming. But that's not to be pessimistic; I'd say we need our version of "Hair" to wake us up a little, but in the current climate, this one does the trick.

"Hair" will appear at the Hangar Theatre in Cass Park through July 28. Tickets may be purchased at the Ticket Center at the Clinton House, by calling 607-273-4497, or online at www.hangartheatre.org.