Buffalo Theater: Minor updates reflect our times in a positive way

By Nathan Andrew Miller
(Image above: ‘Hairspray’ cast does “I Can Hear Bells.” Photo by Doug Weyand.)

John Waters’ 1988 film Hairspray was a mild success upon release, and gained a cult following upon its home video release. It was also the last film for drag icon Divine, a longtime Waters collaborator.

However, it gained a second life in the form of the Broadway musical, with music and lyrics by Waters appreciators Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman. The subsequent 2007 film adaptation of the musical thrust it further into the spotlight — enough so that if you were “growing up Broadway” in the early 2000s, you know all the lyrics. You just had to!

If you’re unfamiliar, the story centers around a plus-sized Baltimore teenager who just wants to dance on her favorite television program, The Corny Collins Show. Going against initial resistance by her mother Edna, Tracy goes to an audition and is turned away because of her size.

As she’s exiting the studio, she witnesses another young performer, Little Inez, being turned away, sight unseen, because of her race. Tracy meets Little Inez’s brother Seaweed in detention, and boldly claims that “Negro Day” — the day that dancers of color are allowed to perform on Corny’s show — is her favorite day, and that she wishes it was every day.

She joins Seaweed and his mother and sister in their quest to integrate in an early 1960s world. There are romantic subplots and lots of dancing, but the crux of the story has always been social justice. It’s important to note that there have been adjustments to lyrics and dialogue to make Tracy less of a white savior, though the show still feels very early 2000s in some of its sentiments. One particular lyric change — long overdue according to Shaiman in his new autobiography — rewrites “tomorrow is a brand new day and it don’t know white from black” to “it SEES both white and black.” Thank goodness we’ve made this small edit in our thinking, disposing of antiquated “we don’t see color” language.

Now normally I don’t editorialize as much as that in my reviews, but context is important to understand just how many positives I found in MusicalFare’s production of Hairspray.

From the very beginning, Eric Deeb Weaver (director/choreographer) and Alexandria Watts (associate director/choreographer) have the ensemble weaving around the stage with smart, sharp choreography that sets the tone for the evening we’re expecting. The hardest working ensemble on stage keeps this buoyant production afloat, with some exceptional ensemble dancing. Special shout-out to David Eve because honestly I would watch them dance in any situation. They’re incredible.

Stevie Lou Kemp draws us in as Tracy with a bubbling energy that manages to captivate while remaining honest — Tracy chooses joy in her worldview. Kemp’s confidence, as well as her crystal clear singing voice and impressive dancing, make us fall in love with Tracy immediately.

It’s why Seaweed, here terrifically rendered by Austin Marshall, can look past her ignorance to the struggle he and his family experience. Marshall is a true triple threat in his own right, showing off some ridiculous vocals in “Run and Tell That.”

Tracy’s best friend Penny is played to the edge of excess by Penelope Sergi, who gets to showcase her pipes of steel in Act Two in the love quartet “Without Love.”

As bigoted mother and daughter Velma and Amber Von Tussle, Jenn Stafford and Audree Woods have a difficult task. Their bigotry and body-shaming don’t really earn the forgiveness arc they’re delivered in the rousing “You Can’t Stop the Beat,” though Velma does get a little bit of poetic justice with a promotion to Vice President of a line of beauty products for women of color.

Still, Stafford’s villainy borders on buffoonery — a calculated choice by the veteran actor — and her signature belt is in good form as always. Woods, too, finds the ridiculousness in Amber’s whining, although it’s hard for me to believe her as a bad dancer the way the script indicates.

Notable ensemble singing came in the form of the Dynamites (Jasmine Fiero, Timiyah Love, and Talia Mobley) in their feature in the showstopper “Welcome to the ’60s,” but also as supplementary singers in the rousing anthem “I Know Where I’ve Been,” to be discussed later in the review. All three women have incredible vocal instruments, and contributed heavily to the overall ensemble sound.

And in a surprisingly honest performance, despite a few on-the-nose pretty boy reactions, Glen Chitty gives us much to love in teenage heartthrob Link Larkin. His singing voice is as effortless as his charm, and his put-on sex symbol facade crumbles quickly when he’s faced with tough decisions. He’s an excellent partner for Kemp in a moving scene at Seaweed’s mother Motormouth Maybelle’s record shop.

And let’s talk about Motormouth for a moment. What could very easily be a tropey, goofy character is played here with effective simplicity by Dasia Cervi. Motormouth’s radio personality means that her lines frequently rhyme, and though I think she could lean into this more, I am always impressed by Cervi’s ability to just give us the lines as they are, with honesty coming from natural acting. And then she sings. If her honest acting is impressive, her natural talent as a singer is mind-blowing. She takes smart and well-prepared liberties with “I Know Where I’ve Been,” and has the ability to stop the show every night in its performance.

Speaking of honesty onstage, Louis Colaiacovo and Bobby Cooke are perfect as Tracy’s parents Edna and Wilbur. Edna, performed in drag as a send-up to Divine, is the source of a lot of the comedy in the script, and Colaiacovo is spectacular. Understated, yet strong, Edna is a woman all too familiar with judgements based on size. But she empowers her daughter to stand up for what she believes in, and she’s supported by Cooke’s adorable Wilbur. I’m honored to call Cooke a friend in real life, and his kindness and positivity make most things better. It’s so great to see him play roles like Wilbur and, earlier this season, Harry Bright, that bring so much of his nature on stage.

My only quibbles with this otherwise excellent production, and they’re minor, come in the form of technical elements. I would like to first note that I have no technical prowess myself, and fully recognize the monumental task of costuming a show of this magnitude. While I felt that for the most part the costumes were effective, I couldn’t help but notice a few moments where the clothes, especially on men, felt too modern for the 1962 setting. I also felt that some costumes were unflattering on actors, to the point that I noticed. Additionally, I felt that Deeb Weaver and Watts’ excellent use of space was done a disservice by either late light cues or shadowy design; actors who were meant to be the focus who were in darkness or semi-darkness.

Still, as productions of Hairspray go, I’m not sure how you could get much better by performance standards. Specific credit to Deeb Weaver, Watts, Paglia and the cast for applying 2026 sentiments to the production, especially in power dynamics between bigoted characters and those who strove for “the light.” Get to MusicalFare, at least once, to see this terrific closer to their inaugural season at Shea’s 710.

Nathan Andrew Miller has a BFA in Theatre Performance and a BA in English from Niagara University and has been reviewing theater in WNY since 2015. Nate is also an actor and director at various local theaters.