This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2011, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
In "Spring Awakening," a show about sexual abuse, repression, homosexuality, abortion and first love, it feels like a plot spoiler to write this: Everything I love about the musical is revealed the first time the boys reach inside their buttoned-up schoolboy wool jackets to pull out hand mikes and burst into song.
That underscores what makes this Tony Award-winning musical (based on a controversial 1891 play written by German playwright Frank Wedekind) feel so freshly contemporary. Instead of driving the plot forward, the songs explicitly stop the action to express the characters' feelings in the timeless, jubilant crudeness of adolescence.
"Spring Awakening" succeeds on the frissons of its awkward juxtapositions. That song the boys burst into? They've broken out of a Latin grammar lesson to rock out to "The Bitch of Living," confessing what inspires their sexual fantasies.
If you're currently experiencing the anger of adolescence — or you remember how the jolt of rock 'n' roll helped you live through it — then you've only got two more chances to see the national tour of "Spring Awakening." (2 and 8 p.m. today at Kingsbury Hall, 1395 E. Presidents Circle, University of Utah campus, Salt Lake City; tickets, $32.50-$55; $20 students, at 801-581-7100 or http://www.kingsburyhall.org.)
And the show is worth seeing for its string-infused rock score (by indie rocker Duncan Sheik; book and lyrics by Steven Sater). It's backed by a great 7-piece band and fronted by an energetic, youthful cast who deliver the heart of the story, even if they don't hit all their song and dance notes.
Elizabeth Judd, as the ingenue Wendla, is a standout for her authentic characterization and rich voice. As her love interest, Christopher Wood, the smart rebel Melchior, offers a pleasing stage presence and is winning in the second act, even if his voice can't match the demands of the score.
If you're offended by brief partial nudity, simulated sex or masturbation scenes, or even the idea of a song with "Bitch" in its title, this surely isn't a musical for you. And its frankness did unspoil a bit differently to a young-skewing Salt Lake City audience then to a bunch of seen-everything Broadway tourists in a New York City theater.
Here in Utah, with our sky-high teen suicide rates, the show's themes (delivered with a prominent parental advisory) play as capital-I Important. (I loved the touch of the PSA on the back cover of the playbill urging teens to text for help they're feeling hopeless.)
But that's not why you should see this musical. Go for the songs, "My Junk," "The Word of Your Body," even the rockin' energy of "Totally F—-ed," where the awkward brillance of Bill T. Jones' choreography finally pays off. Go to sit with a crowd of stangers in a dark room to be reminded of how it feels to be young and vulnerable and totally in love. "We've all got our junk, and my junk is you."
— Ellen Fagg Weist