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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.
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