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Ragni, Rado, and MacDermot’s Hair was considered revolutionary when it first premiered Off-Broadway in 1968. It was a product of its youth-influenced times. As it (and the youngsters to whom it spoke) aged, it became rather myopic as the revolution began to consume itself and turn cynical. Something has happened to the American Tribal Musical in the age of Dubya and Wii: it’s achieving a certain amount of relevance again. The war of the new millennium can learn a little from the protestors of the Viet Nam conflict. While it’s then mind-blowing songs and events are more shocking now than anything on network television, it still packs a few punches, especially the final image during “Let the Sun Shine In” that has been denied to us by this administration’s spin doctors.

Tempe Little Theatre’s production succeeds by understanding (even celebrating) that Hair can be unkempt. Voices don’t need to be perfect, choreography in synch, and scenes crisp. Hair offers a lot of leeway in this regard. This is a Be-In; it feels wrong to quibble about the difficulties hearing and understanding some of the cast as they fill the stage with love, drugs, sex, and youthful angst. And while it is disconcerting to see a bunch of twenty-somethings performing in a show their parents might have first experienced at their ages, they do their best under Teri Glaess’ direction to capture the Age of Aquarius. There’s a lot of audience interaction, moving up and down the aisles and addressing the audience to help them tune into the scene. While the trademark nudity is almost completely excised, a moon does rise in the first act. There are also a lot of women wearing bras under Valerie Staller’s otherwise period-leaning costumes.

The five central characters (those with discernible character arcs) are very strong. Eric Boudreau’s Berger captures his character’s zaniness and dark side equally well. He has a strong voice, abundant energy, and plenty of charisma. Zachary Balmer’s Claude is a nice contrast to Boudreau’s wildness. He is intense, sweet, and he strongly brings across Claude’s tearing between this life and his country’s call. Between these two men are NYU-activist Sheila (Gina Tomkus) and pregnant speed-freak Jeanie (Brianon Miller). Tomkus has a wonderful voice and is a ball of energy. Her “Easy to be Hard” is one of the highlights of the evening. Miller’s clownishness mostly makes up for her more vague and unfocussed performance, highlighted by her non-ending on the second Saturday of the performance of her song “Air.” Finally, Justin Rapp’s Woof is a good comedic foil, earnestly lusting after everyone, male or female, highlighted by his obsession with Mick Jagger.

The ensemble is strong of voice and random of movement. They are often prone to diction problems when speaking lines or singing together under Gregg Temple’s musical direction, but it all somehow kinda works, especially when Temple’s rock group gets into a tear. Roger Prenger’s choreography is a highly theatrical vision of the sometimes-fluid, sometimes-herky-jerky dance styles of the period. There are some choreographed moments that look more Broadway than Haight-Ashbury, but it’s still enjoyable to watch. Highlights from the ensemble include Michelle Marie Cunneen’s Crissy lamenting a missed opportunity with “Frank Mills,” and their impressive hallucinogenic sequence in the second act stretching from “Walking in Space” through “How Dare They Try.” Highlighted by Laura Troyan’s explosive lighting filled with brightly saturated colors, it is really a strong interpretation of the joys and paranoiacs of a drug trip.