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Ah, youth, when the hormones are in bloom and every surge of emotion
is worthy of its own song. All the better then to have an
insightful songwriter working from the text of one of the pioneers
of expressionistic drama. That would be Duncan Sheik, downtown
habitué, and Frank Wedekind, deceased author of the shocking “Lulu”
plays (which made a legend of Louise Brooks after they were filmed
back in the Twenties). Spring Awakening was Wedekind’s first
major play, written in 1891—and it’s somewhat chilling to see how
pertinent, how timely, the piece remains. Scandalous, it was
then—and still is probably for many in the audience (and perhaps
particularly the elderly man in the coral-colored cardigan alongside
his pearl-necklaced and silver-haired wife seated onstage in the $30
seats). There’s adolescent spanking, for example—and we’re not
talking little love taps. More like erotic sadism. And also a
deflowering in a hayloft, complete with foreplay and frottage and
frontal nudity, a scene that ends the first act. Anyone
uncomfortable with the musical’s proceedings might consider not
returning after intermission—for the scene is repeated at the top of
the second act.
Perhaps it’s a
testament to an audience’s hunger for something real, something we
remember about our own youth, that there’s not an empty seat in the
house, even after intermission. Anyone who’s ever spent time in a
classroom of adolescents cannot escape the sense of a powder keg
about to blow. Nearly uncontrollable with desire and curiosity, a
roomful of adolescents proves both daunting and inspiring—and
Wedekind’s text, mirrored by Sheik’s hauntingly lovely songs,
beautifully captures the confusion of life as a chrysalis. It’s the
adult world, replete with its hypocrisies and lies, which clips the
wings of these butterflies, when not crushing them altogether. And
in the name of what, morality? Ha—and isn’t that rich?
To witness the
performances at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre is to witness the
awakening of the slumbering beast of Broadway, too long sated by fat
cats and corporate accounts. Spring Awakening is nothing
less than a challenge to future producers: “Pablum be damned, we
won’t take it any more.”
During a time when the
vox populi of the American people has been too often quelled
by fear, and particularly of accusations of a lack of patriotism,
Wedekind’s play serves to remind us how quickly the silencing of
individual voices leads to a nation’s deafness. It’s hard to sit in
the audience and witness such riveting performances of characters
fueled by the scientific and artistic glories of German civilization
at the end of the nineteenth century—and not be reminded where all
this is heading. To lose a nation’s youth to disillusion is
tantamount to losing the future. Which is why the spirit of punk
music seems to ricochet off the walls of the theatre: as a reminder
that change is in the air and youth will be heard tonight.
Everything clicks in
this thrilling production—the sensitive direction by Michael Mayer
(who previously worked with similar subject matter in Stupid Kids)
and Bill T. Jones’s fluid choreography which evokes the struggle to
break free by utilizing a series of stylized quotidian movements and
Duncan Sheik’s aching melodies with their soulful lyrics. And every
member of the young cast appears loaded with raw talent; they’re
riveting to watch.
So much promise in those faces, such
hope and optimism—it’s nearly enough to inspire faith in the
future—and not only for the Broadway musical.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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