It's Hip(pie) to See Hair!

Flow it and show it! We did it! After a second attempt at the virtual line, I scored a pair of tickets to tonight's performance of HAIR in Central Park. How groovy is that, man?

It was a beautiful night to be out at the Delacorte amongst other theater-goers and quite a few children of the 60s - one in particular who had to be asked to sit back down and refrain from dancing by security. Once reseated, he donned a purple and yellow jester-like hat in what I could only guess was an act of protest? In any case, it remained a peaceful one-man demonstration and the show went on undisrupted.

The production itself was a joyous explosion of music and color, lights and sound, and of course...hair. The classic songs we've all come to know and love were expertly performed by an exuberant young cast who looked like they were having a totally far out time up there on the grass-laden stage - (and yes, I was wishing that I had been invited to join their party.)

This was my first time ever seeing the show, and from what I could tell, the 40th Anniversary version was HAIRtastic and exactly as it should be, and although I enjoyed it, at times I found it a bit hard to relate to some of the drug-toking, free-loving members of "The Tribe." Yeah, I'm a square, so shoot me. Nonetheless, I really dug the long, flowing hair and bell bottoms...their message of peace, love and equality for all humankind was pretty groovy too.

I've seen a number of productions at The Delacorte over the years and it's always a special treat when I am able to return - especially since tickets are usually a bit tricky to obtain. The theater holds even more personal significance for me, though. It was at the 1995 production of "The Tempest" starring the incomparable Patrick Stewart as Prospero that the 15-year old me made the executive decision that I would dedicate myself to the pursuit of theater. (Although, perhaps it would have been wiser to stipulate that I would dedicate myself to the act of acting. I've got the "pursuit" part down though, that's for sure. )

It was a cool summer night, much like this one - 14 years...ouch, it's been 14 frigging years already? Crimeny!

The stage was covered in pearl white sand that night & I was tripped out on iambic pentameter. I sat 15th row center in complete awe Sir Patrick Stewart's command of the audience and grasp of the Shakespearean language. My epiphany came to me during the epilogue. Patrick Stewart standing center stage began...

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own...

He continued...

But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:

And then suddenly he paused, and gestured to the booth to cut out his mic. He continued un-artificially amplified, his opulent voice filling the open-air arena. There was no movement, no sound from anyone or anything, but Prospero. It was the closest thing to real magic that I had ever seen.

Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.