Good choreography is like a good design. There is contrast and color, and plenty of shapes, forms and patterns that are coherent and pleasing.
Jane Austen loved dances. Her books are peppered with social gatherings where the famous English Country Dance predominates. And we are treated with these lovely dances in the films of her books, and in the most recent pseudo-biography Becoming Jane.
Austen’s primary concern in her novels is that her final design make sense. The dances are a microcosm of what happens in the lives of her characters. There is a restrained order in the dances, where the overall emphasis is the cohesion of the group. Of course, individuals make up part of the group, and their various costumes, colors and styles are unique. But, it is this convergence of individual colors and styles that that make the dances wonderful.
Just like her dances, there is an emotional moderation to her characters, and whenever they breach this protocol, they are reminded by observing and mature adults. Still, within this restraint, no-one is asked (or forced) to sacrifice his individuality. And within this individualized, yet ordered, atmosphere, the social fabric reveals itself under an ever emerging and evolving pattern. If the some of the parts are faulty, they are quickly corrected, and the ephemeral pattern reforms itself towards perfection.
Although the association seems remote, the choreography in Hairspray resembles the dance “routines” that are part of the English social dances. Patterns form in clusters of groups, weave into lines, converge into pairs, emerge across diagonals and finally end with a finale. The musical dance routines resemble the personalities, just as Jane Austen’s social dances mimic the trials and triumphs of hers. Dance is closely intertwined with story and character.
But there is another element enters Hairspray that is absent in Jane Austen’s books. There is no longer one set of dances, but two. And these two dances are very different.
Perhaps the most revealing moments where these differences can be compared are in two episodes of dance instruction. One is the choreography class that Velma Von Tussle teaches the white Corny Collins Council kids in the TV studio. Velma is teaching them a cha-cha move. And despite the exotic nature of the original cha-cha-cha rhythms, Velma’s choreography infuses it with familiar geometry, pattern and design.
The second is where the only white girl in the detention room, Tracy, is taught a dance by Seaweed, the leader of the black Detention Kids. Seaweed may have taught Tracy some dance moves, but he doesn’t actually have a choreography. Besides, the detention room is too confined to show full, stretched out movements. But that doesn’t seem to be a problem for the dancers. Most of their dance is in one place, in the rather cramped style that befits the room, with lithe movements and sinuous bodies. And steps between groups isn’t as essential as dancing with a group. Thus, pattern, geometry and design take a secondary, if non-existent, role to just pure movement.
It is later on when Tracy dances it as part of a choreographed show at the Corny Collins stage that structure is brought to Seaweed’s moves, and it becomes a much bigger performance. And still, they are not purely Seaweed’s dances, but embellishments of them, just like Velma’s restructuring and rearranging of the cha-cha-cha.
The history of American musicals, surprisingly, starts with black influences. The minstrel shows of the 19 th century, with white performers in black faces, were one of the first song and dance public entertainments. Rather than racist, they were an acknowledgment of the deep-seated ambiguity with the ongoing slavery culture. But eventually, the audience started demanding more complicated choreography and stories, and the elaborate musicals of the early 20 th century were born.
The same could be said of Hairspray. Yes, there is some influence by black kids on the white kids’ dances, but Shankman’s choreography elaborates on that to create something bigger, more intricate, and more novel.
As much as Hairspray is a musical about the race (and other) injustices, it ends up being, in true American fashion, a genuine attempt to combine all the cultural elements available into a cohesive performance . The choreography gives structure and embellishments to available moves, with intricately designed routines using traditional steps and inventing new ones. That way, like Jane’s dances, there could be a chance that order and structure in an art form might influence the society at large.