Tormented Teutonic Teens in Spring Awakening at Rec Room Arts

Not since the glorified days of Flo Ziegfeld has the staircase been used so proficiently as it is by director Matt Hume in Rec Room Arts’ stupendously affecting production of Spring Awakening.

Actors strut down Stefän Azizi’s wooden scaffolding or backtrack up into the dark infinite space; the young students sit ramrod straight at church, then lounge with insouciant indifference after an insufferable sermon; they assemble at the sides, watching, commenting, as the action proceeds on the steps in front of them; they bound down to the wooden bench in front, jump up and confront us; ghosts appear upstage then slowly meander downward, sometimes in sync, sometimes in syncopation. The stairs are the characters’ playground, its confessional, a hayloft, a hidden glen in the nearby woods, a stifling schoolroom. In the intimate space of Rec Room, the staircase unfolds the teen angst in multiple ways, all right and true.

This 2007 Tony-winning musical from Duncan Sheik (music) and Steven Sater (book and lyrics) enlarges the drama while ironically keeping it smaller. We are close to the anguish, the pain, the forbidden fruit of nascent sexual desire, and the innocence of these youths as they break into adulthood without any help from the elders there to guide them. They’re on their own, and the results can be devastating. Not even the strongest among them survives without scars. Remember the fallen is young Melchior’s motto as this musical ends. In the haunting “Those You’ve Known,” he is joined by the dead Moritz and Wendla. “I’ll walk now with them/I’ll call on their names/And I’ll see their thoughts are known/Not gone/Not gone.”

Adapted from Frank Wedekind’s 1891 prescient, scandalous, and oft-censored drama, subtitled A Children’s Tragedy, this is one beautiful musical, exquisitely staged, and wondrously performed.

Potent, searing, aching, with wisps of wry sex innuendo, these displaced and frustrated German teens find love and acceptance among their own. Unfortunately, the solidarity goes only so far under the harsh repression of parents, church, and school. You can hear the heartbreak in Sheik’s plaintive soft-pop ballads, such as Wendla’s “Mama Who Bore Me,” Martha’s song of abuse “The Dark I Know Well,” and Moritz’s plea for understanding “Don’t Do Sadness;” and the throbbing disappointment in his hard-rock anthems, “The Bitch of Living” and Melchior’s “Totally Fucked.” Sater’s lyrics are among the best of any contemporary musical, always straight to the heart in a “manner poetical,” as the great lyricist from the previous century, W.S. Gilbert, might have penned. In the ensemble piece, “My Junk,” listen to the downtown beat: “In the midst of this nothing, this mess of a life/Still, there’s this one thing: just to see you go by/It’s almost like loving’, sad as that is/May not be cool, but it’s so where I live.”

Director Hune and choreographer Julia Krohn keep the kids bouncing in thwarted passion, twitching in anticipation of what they know nothing about except for their raging hormones. This new world of their own bodies is alien but so seductive. When randy Hänchen (Marco Camacho, always glinting) puts the make on buttoned-down Ernst (Austin Colburn, he of strong voice) in the reprise of “The Word of Your Body,” repressed gay sexuality gets amped to 11. Then the entire ensemble is infected with this strange mood, grinding and feeling their way to forbidden territory. It’s toe-tapping sex, set to an arpeggio of tinkling harmonium.

The cast is exceptional, and all but Megan Mottu (Martha) are making Rec Room debuts, although many have been seen previously on various Houston stages. But here they truly shine. Adam Kral, as too-smart-for-his-age Melchior, has the clean look of innocence and a clear tenor voice to prove it. Shannon Hoffman, as virginal Wendla who still believes babies arrive from storks, has recently graduated from Kinder HSPVA but already has the chops of a pro. Young Cameron O’Neil, as painfully neurotic Moritz, blows you away with his searing intensity, piercing desperation, and utter sincerity. Moritz may be possessed, but O’Neil’s mop of copper curls catches Azizi’s lights like a halo. Most definitely, he’s an actor to watch for in the future.

Timothy Eric, who plays all the Adult Men, needs no introduction after winning the 2023 Houston Press Best Actor Award for Main Street’s Stagolee and the Funeral of A Dangerous Word. His powerful presence on stage is testament enough. Kayla Meins is a stand-out in her professional debut as battered and street savvy Ilse, who tries to save Moritz. Her song, “Blue Wind,” and the lead vocal in the ensemble finale, “The Song of Purple Summer,”are poignantly rendered. The remaining cast includes Elena Coates (Adult Women), Nonie Hilliard (Thea), Camryn Nunley (Georg), Dariel Silva (Otto), and Jacqueline Vasquez (Anna). Troopers all.

Much of the musical’s spirit derives from the spirited band, upstage right, led by musical director John Amar on piano and harmonium, Bonnie Diggs on violin, and Jesse Ward on guitar. Percussion is listed as Adam Kral, Nonie Hilliard, Kayla Meins, Camryn Nunley, and Cameron O’Neil. Hey, wait a minute, they’re the actors. Did each of them, when not on stage, rush to the elevated orchestral pit to pitch in? I’m confused. However this feat was accomplished, the sound is gloriously full – perhaps too full —when the singers, unmiked, get trampled under the rock, soft or not.

Wedekind’s play was a revelation and a scandal when it premiered in Berlin under famed German director Max Reinhardt in 1906. Playing on Broadway 100 years later as a musical play, Spring Awakening still stuns with its in-your-face audacity. Under Hune and the magicians at Rec Room Arts, the musical sings with renewed, unbridled life. Teen spirit is eternal. It’s also catching. Pay attention, you may feel something.

Spring Awakening. 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays through September 28. Rec Room Arts, 100 Jackson Street. For more information, call 713-588-9403 or visit recroomarts.org. $5-$50.