Theatre geeks live for those moments-those once-in-a-blue-moon occurrences where every element of a production comes together, and we're reminded just how deeply this art form can touch us when it transports us to someplace vital and true. A great show might have one or two. Spring Awakening has scores of them, coming so fast that you're barely through riding one wave of wonderment before another sweeps you up into a tidal wave of passionate storytelling and thrilling experimentation. There are still, I believe, a handful of tickets for this show, playing at the Winspear over the next two days. Three reasons you should go-
The Story: Musicals are often frivolous escapism. Not that there's anything wrong with entering the worlds of Eliza Doolittle or Danny Zuko, but I long (often in vain) for something of more substance. Here, my longing was fulfilled-here's a show that's actually about something. It's a complicated tale, but the long and short of it is this. Germany. 1891. Young Wendla's mother has neglected to explain sex to her. So when she does the deed with the brilliant-but-rebellious hotshot Melchior, she hasn't a clue about the possible consequences. Because of this, the effects of their intercourse spiral out of control, setting off a series of debased, tragic acts that leave an indelible imprint on both their fellow students and their elders. Sounds like a soap opera plot, but Steven Sater's script uses it to explore crucial, timeless themes about identity, communication, the nature of parenthood, even the meaning of sexuality, and, yes, love itself. It all leads to a message about redemption and acceptance that's all the more affecting because it's imparted with a refreshing lack of sap-drenched platitudes and a refreshing plenitude of genuine feeling. It's the rare show where, if you go for drinks and dessert afterward, you'll have more to talk about than just the high notes and the hot dance moves. Having said that-
The Staging is like nothing you've ever seen before. Director Michael Mayer dares to totally eschew traditional sets-no painted storefronts or moving furniture here. Instead, lighting is used, in flawless conjunction with the music, to create mood. Luminescent bars turn a sinister red to underline anger, a melancholy blue to accent sadness. Sound obvious, but God, does it work. Occasionally, there are little surprises-a projection of a moon, a sliding door that opens to reveal an eerily backlit portion of backstage, a piece of the actual stage floor that hoists the characters of the ground in moments of great intensity or feeling. Each one takes your breath away without being so flashy that you're taken out of the moment. Then there's Bill T. Jones's choreography. He does something cool here. Rather than dip into a grab bag of dance styles, he establishes a single, prevalent movement motif and builds on it until it reaches glorious fruition. It starts off (in the show's opening number) as a series of small self-caresses-a visual representation of the town youth learning more about their body, and ultimately about themselves. As their desire to understand and ability to comprehend increase, the hand motions grow more complex, occur at greater speed and with more frequency, until, in the second act, at a crucial turning point that I refuse to spoil, they explodes, bodies rocking to strange rhythms, quaking in barely controlled spasms that manage to look both impressive and impromptu-the holy grail for Broadway shows. Into the technical side of theatre? Watch as the behind-the-scenes team turns the Winspear stage into a marvelous melding of pop art expressiveness and rock-concert pow. But, say you aren't into all this. Well, I bet you like music, huh? So, let's talk about-
The Songs I saved the best for last. Anyone with a passing interest in the magic of melody and harmony best check this show out, NOW. This is like no theatre music you have ever heard-gone are the show-boat belting jags, the peppy chorus lines, the jazz-handy big finishes. This is also like no popular music you've ever heard-you won't find any self-indulgent instrumentation or obnoxious screeching here. What we have instead is the best of both worlds. Composer Duncan Sheik works with Sater (also the lyricist) to blend cello, bass, and piano, with drums (both exotic and ordinary), guitars (electric and acoustic), and even some pre-recorded house beats to create some strange kind of grunge-folk-pop-punk fusion. From the weeping string lines of the opener, "Mama Who Bore Me" (and the rafter-shaking Afro-pop of its goosebump-inducing reprise) to the angular, head-banging fury of "The Bitch of Living" and "And Then There Were None", to the trippy-shoegaze brilliance of "The Mirror-Blue Night", the score is filled with gems that rank among the best music of any kind composed in the past 15 years. And then there's the infamous "Totally Fucked", undoubtedly the singular most raucous piece of work ever composed for the Broadway stage, and the recipient one of the loudest post-song ovations I've heard. But my personal favorite is "The Dark I Know Well", in which a duo of town girls reveal a past of incest and domestic abuse. The pounding drums, the hypnotic guitar, the chilling couplets ("You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight/Then you hold me and you whisper, child/The Lord won't mind")-it truly feels like we're watching raw feeling pour out of these women. It's a classic moment, as is the final number "Song of Purple Summer". After a dry-eyed evening, this song uncorked the waterworks for me in a big way. It speaks to the resilience of the human spirit not by beating you over the head with messages, but by reminding us that the beauty of life is its circular nature-dark times will ultimately be followed by days "so white, so warm". Its harmonies are so intricate that you could listen a thousand times, uncovering new treasures for the ear with each new listen. Like the show, it's a thing of beauty you lose yourself in.
In conclusion, some tickets are as cheap as $30 dollars. There are even seats on the stage, in the midst of the action. With great performances, stunning, innovative music, and a story that speaks to the common bonds we share and weights we carry, Spring Awakening earns its place among the Great Works of Theatrical Art. And when Great Works come on tour, you best see them-they're rare in these art-starved times.
SEEE ITTTTT
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