Harvey Fierstein in a jumbo housedress and croaking his trademark "Hellaaaooh" is already enough reason to see any show he's in, so it's a hair-hopping pleasure to report that his current vehicle, Hairspray, adapted from John Waters' break-out commercial film, boasts a half-dozen other reasons for its instant hit-dom. Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman's punchline-filled lyrics hit the mark often enough to keep our ears on ever-perk, matched as they are to Shaiman's intentionally-derivative but buoyant tunes ("Mama, I'm a Big Girl Now" being the catchiest).
The score's Grease!-meets-Urinetown feeling turns potentially over-familiar song types (e.g., the "I'm-in-love-with-a-wonderful-guy"-like "I Can Hear the Bells" and the "Ah, yes, I remember it well"-style parents' duet, "Timeless to Me") into near-showstoppers. And while Marissa Jaret Winokur's an empathetic, energetic Tracy, it's often the supporting cast that gives Hairspray its extra lift, be it Clark Thorell as slick but upright TV dance host, Corny Collins; Kerry Butler as Tracy's bubble-brained best friend (the one who thinks armed guards have extra arms), Matthew Morrison as the golden boy torn between ambition and conscience (and posing like an idol), and limber- limbed Corey Reynolds showing why, when it comes to Corny's segregated dance program, "every day should be `Negro Day.'"
Though an audience favorite, Dick Latessa's practical-jokester dad strikes me as a bit bland considering the surroundings, while Linda Hart, as villainous Velma, is undone by shrillness. All told, though, Hairspray is the next rightful heir to The Full Monty, another fun-for-fun's-sake musical with sly smarts to offset its urge to be a populist blockbuster. Long may it shpritz.
