Review: A Timely & Much-Needed HAIRSPRAY at the Carrollwood Players

“To me, beauty is inclusion--every size, every color--that’s the world I live in." --fashion designer Prabal Gurung

“We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter what their color.”  --Maya Angelou

“We are eliminating the DEI (DIVERSITY, EQUITY & INCLUSION) programs." --The Governor of Florida in 2023

“Yesterday is history (be gone!)/And it's never comin' back! (look ahead, 'cause)/'Cause tomorrow is a brand new day…” from HAIRSPRAY’S final number, “You Can’t Stop the Beat”

Now that we are a quarter of the way through the 21st Century, the serious debate can begin: What is the best stage musical of this century so far? There are several contenders, including The Producers, Hamilton, Waitress, Wicked, Spring Awakening, Fun Home, Next to Normal and In the Heights. High on my list, maybe at or near the very top of it, must be HAIRSPRAY. 

Based on the 1988 cult film, HAIRSPRAY still delivers the goods: Wonderful, iconic songs by Mark Shaiman and Scott Wittman; brilliantly conceived characters that harken back to the original John Waters classic; a certain envelope-pushing hutzpah found in the script by Thomas Meehan and Mark O’Donnell; and a message that resonates now even more than when it was first conceived.  Before watching and enjoying the current, very entertaining production at the Carrollwood Players, I forgot how groundbreaking and important the musical is.

The show is a slap in the face to all of those people who throw the term “DEI” around so often that it loses its meaning; that’s why I stay away from using only those initials so that we should always call it what it is: DIVERSITY, EQUITY & INCLUSION.   

HAIRSPRAY has become a tonic for those of us who have watched in horror as rights have been stripped anew from the people who need them the most.  But the musical doesn’t come across as a didactic screed, as if you were somehow forced to watch Rachel Maddow: The Musical.  It’s a heck of a lot of fun, and yet it carries its message of love and acceptance on its oversized sleeve big time.  HAIRSPRAY stands proudly against discrimination, racism, sexism, body shaming, and anything else that some politicians are (still) using to divide us. 

It’s such a delightful message that you wish certain Southern governors would attend in order to see these hot-button issues in a new way; then again, they would probably reject it because a main character is played by a man in drag.  Such an act could maybe even get the show banned in certain states, where there have been bills slated to censor “male and female impersonators”? Why do these questionable politicians  have to be such drags when it comes to drag? Does such a notion perhaps cut too close to home to closeted blowhards?

I never imagined that mounting HAIRSPRAY in this day and age (and in this particular state) could be considered an act of bravery on the part of the CWP.

The show is rated PG-13 and, as showcased in the current production, it's a blast of feel-good energy at a time when we need it the most.

Set in 1962, HAIRSPRAY centers on bigger-than-life Baltimorean, Tracy Turnblad, who yearns to be one of the dancers on “The Corny Collins Show,” a segregated TV dance program.  Tracy is such a breath of fresh air that she becomes one of the featured dancers on the show, over the objections of lead dancer Amber Von Tussle and Amber’s villainous, fat-shaming mom, Velma. But Tracy only has eyes for Link Larken, Amber’s former beau.  She devises a way to get the “The Corny Collins Show” integrated, even utilizing her friends, Penny Pingleton and Seaweed J. Stubbs, as well as her outspoken mother, Edna, and jokester father, Wilbur.  Much hilarity ensues as their world ultimately changes for the good; Tracy not only saves the day, but she also helps save a country.    

Kore Trotti makes for a fine Tracy, full of bubbliness and zest.  Sometimes I wish she would take the part to an even higher level, but she’s always reliable, the key figure in the show who never gets lost in the crowd.  Although I wanted even more pizzazz in her opening number, “Good Morning, Baltimore,” the audience loved her and found themselves rooting for her the entire time.

The real star of this production is Jeffrey Holmes as the fuller-than-full-figured gal, Edna Turnblad.  Mr. Holmes does the near impossible and makes you forget Harvey Fierstein or John Travolta in the role.  In some ways, he channels the spirit of the original Edna—Divine—and is so uproarious that he had me laughing throughout.  It’s a star turn, and Mr. Holmes owns the stage, looking not unlike a giantess amid the Baltimoreans, a sequoia in drag hovering above the world of saplings.

Just as sensational is Chonesty Osborne as Motormouth Maybelle.  I waited for her moment in Act 2, when the character sings one of musical theatre’s greatest songs, “I Know Where I’ve Been.” And Ms. Osborne does not disappoint.  This is a rollicking ode to justice, a plea for togetherness and understanding, and Ms. Osborne knocks it out of the park.  I wanted to stand up and cheer after the song, or at least keep the applause extended long after the song had ended, but the Sunday matinee audience was ready for the show to continue even if I was not.  I heard that people did stand and cheer after the song on opening night; it’s powerful enough with Ms. Osborne’s stirring vocals that they should get a similar ovation every night.  You will have goosebumps afterwards and those goosebumps will last long after you get home from the show. 

Alexandra Pugliese makes for an adorably quirky Penny, and Stephon Mikell Jr. is wonderful and  energetic as Seaweed. As Penny’s phobic mom (as well as a slew of other roles), Penni Willen is fabulously wacky and sniveling.

Thomas Pahl brings so much heart and soul to the part of Wilbur; his duet with Edna, “You’re Timeless to Me,” became one of the strongest songs of the night.  Both actors dive so unblinkingly and unapologetically into it that they turned a song that was never my favorite into a standout.

Drew Eberhard properly primps, preens and poses as the teen idol, Link, and he gets to show off some of his rockin’ vocal chops with songs like “It Takes Two.” If Brian Hyland and Bobby Rydell could ever have a spawn, it might resemble Mr. Eberhard here; he brings to mind all those manufactured early-Sixties teen heartthrobs from Fabian to Mark Wynter, and he plays into this marvelously.   (In musical theatre terms, it’s like Conrad Birdie meets Grease’s Teen Angel.)  

Lanky Liam Lencsak is hilarious as Fender, and Jim Gunning is marvelously stern in a variety of roles, mostly figures of authority. Mr. Gunning’s Dick Dastardly laugh certainly worked. 

Jillian Koehn is positively stunning as Tracy’s nemesis, Amber; she radiates a certain spoiled rich white girl entitlement and you find yourself wanting to hiss at her at every turn.  And Culver Eglantine Casson is a revelation as her pushy mom, Velma.  The duo’s villainy is a hoot; I just hope no one in the audience sides with their characters’ anti-integration viewpoint.

Nia Evens makes for a formidable Little Inez. She also performs as one of the Dynamites, the Motown-like girl group in the song “Welcome to the Sixties.”  The other two Dynamites, Patty Smithey and Natalie Whitlock, absolutely own the stage and zap the show with a bolt of incredible energy whenever they’re on.    Ms. Smithey in particular is so alive onstage in every single number, a star who shines brightest in what is being hailed as one of the most talented cast to ever grace a CWP musical. 

Zach “Hippie” Griswold is fun as Corny Collins, donning a bright yellow jacket, but we need more of that smiley slick TV personality, especially in some of the songs where his vocals are hit or miss. The ensemble does well enough, including the talented Zachary Smith, Neil Bleiweiss, Athan Brady, Molly Fawcett, Jacob Salb, Zane Sarsour, Alli Thomas, and Abby Turlington. AnaSofia Melchiorre does quite well as a Beatnik.  As for “The Corny Collins Show,” some of the dancers were a motley crew instead of the usually clean-cut Pepsodent-smiling youth; it’s hard to see why Tracy makes such a big dent here.    

Music Directors Alex Markoulis and Lisa M. Chase do well, with pre-recorded tracks and no mics (which worked fine; we heard every word).  Jess Glass’ set is minimal, with atomic age designs adorning the back wall.  Costumes are correct for the period for the most part, and Velma’s Op Art designed dress stands out as being brilliantly hideous.

Christian M. McLaurine has directed with a sure hand.  He is an amazing performer as well in other shows, but who knew that he would be equally brilliant with his direction?  That said, some of the dances come across as messy, especially the opening number, but HAIRSPRAY is a show that bursts with so much flashy fun that we don’t care; some of the messiness actually becomes endearing.  And Mr. McLaurine has strongly guided a true winner here. 

HAIRSPRAY, as mentioned before, stays pertinent becomes “the times they are a-changin’,” as Bob Dylan wrote in 1964; unfortunately, they’re just not changin’ fast enough.  People throw a certain word around, automatically dismissing anything stamped “woke,” but HAIRSPRAY is woke in all the right ways.  It’s a joyous musical that will leave you smiling from now until 2028. 

As they sing in “You Can’t Stop the Beat”: “Yesterday is history, and it’s never coming back!”  But progress is never easy.  Obstacles get in the way as we move forward, not leaving anyone behind; still, we keep trudging onward, knowing what is right.  As HAIRSPRAY so winningly reminds us, the beat of progress cannot be stopped.

CWP's HAIRSPRAY runs thru March 22.

Photo Credit: Beth Behner

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