Hairspray opened August 15, 2002 with Marissa Jaret Winokur as Tracy Turnblad, Laura Bell Bundy as Amber Von Tussle, and Kerry Butler as Penny Pingleton. Winokur exited the production on August 10, 2003. Both Bundy and Butler left July 13, 2003.
But here’s the point: Unlike many cast members who, on quitting a show and swearing to maintain the tight friendships that have developed and then drift apart, Winokur, Bundy and Butler haven’t. Indeed, perhaps the most delightful aspect of Mama I’m a Big Girl Now!, their three-way collaboration, is its salute to one of life greatest pleasures, lasting friendship.
Twenty-two years after their official opening, these three bffs decided to share their continuing togetherness with a happy-go-lucky piece they’ve written and directed (as well as taken on who-knows-what-else of the other creative responsibilities). For example, since there’s no credit for choreography, they appear to have assumed the task, undoubtedly believing they’ve been choreographed sufficiently in the past to know what to do on their own.
The result is not so much a show as a cabaret act outfitted with countless props, and as such is as entertaining as any Bundy-Butler-Winokur fan would wish. In other words, enthusiasts falling into that category best hop to it.
The idea is that each of the three tells her story in association with the other two. This means recalling their entering the show biz at an early age—with, it’s implied, stage mothers present—then moving on to their meeting at Hairspray rehearsals. (Harvey Fierstein appears only in a projected photograph or two.) They go on to marriage and motherhood. Currently Bundy is raising a five-year old; the other two have older children by now.
The sizzling meat and spicy mashed potatoes of their old-friends project is singing songs they’ve crooned and/or belted from Broadway stages. Many, of course, are from the Scott Whitman-Marc Shaiman Hairspray score—the title song, for instance.
Or they include numbers that reflect their private lives; like “Baby Mine,” the Frank Churchill-Ned Washington lullaby from Disney’s Dumbo, when they talk about their children, biological or otherwise. They’ve also plucked from the Gypsy, Grease, Wicked, Little Shop of Horrors scores, depending on other musicals in which they’ve spent career time. Perhaps needless to report, they cover Stephen Sondheim’s “Old Friends,” clearly meaning every word of it.
It may be there are cynics crass enough to question the sincerity of this adopted-sisters act, but there’s simply no possibility of that when it’s so in-your-face plain they love backing each other up on solos, pleased not only performing as a trio but watching each other take center stage. (There is a back-up threesome harmoniously present—Carla J. Hargrove, Mitchell Gerrard Johnson, Margot Plum. The band is conductor/pianist Andrew Byrne, bassist Skylar Volpe, drummer Jo Huling.)
What about the three pals when trioing? There are myriad performers known for making everything they do look effortless, no matter how strenuous it might be. Bundy, Butler, and Winokur aren’t from that school, at least not here. They’re from the working-hard school. They’re from the entertainers are larger-than-life school. They put whatever they’ve got—which is plenty—into getting every last effect they’re after.
There they are number to number, singing and moving and doing things like blowing bubbles or fanning like mad to achieve a song-enhancing high-wind look. Often, when not soloing, two of them are upstage on Chadd McMillan’s intimate-room set, scrambling for accompanying props.
When talking about home life, which they do extensively, they switch intimately from working women to happy and grateful wives and mothers. They talk personally and intimately about who they are offstage.
What about them singly, when doing the singing-dancing-acting bit? Bundy, in a pants suit (no costume designer credited), who almost never uses a mic while the others do, is the most athletic. She even does a series of twirls that end in an applause-getting split. The motivation could be to demonstrate that 22 years may have passed, but she still has what it takes. (You go, girl!)
Of the three, Butler is the friend who pulls back on the belting. She’s not averse to being quiet, as with the Alan Menken-Howard Ashman “Somewhere That’s Green,” in recognition of her Little Shop of Horrors Broadway stint. In that manner, she provides the bulk of the show’s sung downtime—not that she doesn’t join the other two, all-stops-out, on the heavy-sell ditties.
From Hairspray Winokur gets to reprise her “Good Morning Baltimore” and “I Can Hear Bells.” (Bundy and Butler supply the added bells, of course.) Prepared to discuss anything, she informs the audience of the cancer diagnosis she received during her hit’s run, adding that she’s been fine for years. For good laughs—and about weight—she recounts the time Liza Minnelli dropped by her dressing room and uttered a compliment that turned out to be not so complimentary.
Readers who may not be entirely polite might wonder which of the three strong singers has the strongest voice. The answer: each of them. All the more reason to catch their non-stop, often uproarious act.
