DIRECTOR: Milos Forman
Even though none of the principal characters is explicitly identified as gay, director Milos Forman’s Hair has a surprisingly strong queer subtext.
The most important element is the relationship between Berger (Treat Williams) and Claude (John Savage). Berger immediately becomes fascinated with Claude, draws him into his world, changes his appearance and social identity, and ultimately makes an extraordinary sacrifice for him. The film ostensibly organizes the story around Claude’s attraction to Sheila (Beverly D’Angelo), but Berger–Claude is arguably the film’s most emotionally intense relationship. This is not surprising, since the book and lyrics of the original stage musical (and the movie’s songs) were written by a queer couple, James Rado (represented by the more intellectual, introspective and conflicted Claude) and Gerome Ragni (represented by Berger, the wild, extroverted, uninhibited and free-spirited leader of the “Tribe”). The complete musical score was written by Canadian composer Galt MacDermot.
There is also a broader queer quality to Berger and the Tribe. Being hippies, they reject conventional masculinity, monogamy, respectable dress, military discipline and the heterosexual suburban life expected of young men. The men are physically affectionate with one another, wear long hair and flamboyant clothing, dance together, and display their bodies with an ease deliberately opposed to the rigid masculinity represented by the Army.
In fact, viewed today, Berger’s love for Claude can feel more consequential than Claude’s romance with Sheila. Berger literally takes Claude’s place—and dies in it. That’s an extraordinarily powerful male-male bond for a major 1979 studio musical.
Opening on Broadway on April 29, 1968 (Off-Broadway in 1967) and running 1,750 performances until July 1, 1972, “Hair” was a cultural phenomenon – a revolutionary rock musical. The first of its kind on Broadway, complete with a million-selling cast album and a #1 hit single (“Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In”), it was shocking and groundbreaking for its nudity, anti-war stance, and rock score.
Hair, the movie, opened in March 1979, 11 years after the Broadway opening. It arrived after Vietnam and after the counterculture era had cooled and was seen more as a nostalgic reinterpretation than a radical statement. It lacked the zeitgeist-defining energy of the original.
And yet, director Milos Forman and screenwriter Michael Weller managed to make a successful stage-to-screen translation, which, with the exception of Claude’s origins and the Claude-Berger “switch,” managed to be relatively faithful to the stage production. Keeping most of the songs, the film begins with a beautifully edited sequence (thanks to Alan Heim, doing a companion piece to his Oscar-winning “All That Jazz” the same year) that leads into a spine-chilling version of “Aquarius” by singer Renn Woods, complete with human (and horse!) choreography courtesy of Twyla Tharp. And while the rest of the movie does not quite live up to this (how could it?), it’s remarkably enjoyable with what should have been a star-making performance by Williams – he gave another one two years later in Sidney Lumet’s “King of the City” – but stardom eluded him. The further the movie has moved from its stage musical’s inception, the better it holds up.
Two more musical numbers grab you and further solidify the movie’s queer credentials. First, there is “Sodomy.” The song is remarkably direct for its period in cheerfully naming sodomy, fellatio, cunnilingus and masturbation and pederasty as part of its assault on sexual repression. And then there is the Black Boys/White Boys musical sequence in which Black boys are described as delicious, nutritious and chocolate-flavored love, while the white boys are described as so pretty, with skin as smooth as milk and hair like Chinese silk.
THE SETUP
The Women’s Performance: In Central Park, a group of three white women (led by Ellen Foley) sing “Black Boys,” playfully praising Black men. They are immediately followed by three Black women (led by Nell Carter) singing “White Boys,” celebrating white men
The Army Officers’ Sequence: Intercut with the women’s performance, a group of stern, straight-laced white and Black military draft officers is evaluating young, naked, draftees during a military draft induction physical examination – the Black officers look at naked White men and vice versa. As the song progresses, the strict military demeanor drops, and the male officers begin subtly singing the exact same verses to one another and looking admiringly at the young recruits.
The sequence uses a split-screen / cross-cutting technique to juxtapose the overt sexuality of the women with the repressed, subtextual attraction felt by the all-male military induction board.
Queer, indeed.
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