Crowning the Revival of ‘Hair’ With a Rainbow

It was quite a picture. In the foreground on Heliotrope Avenue in Hollywood stood theater designer Robert Zentis wearing shiny black patent leather shoes, white pants and an even whiter cotton top, his balding head highlighted by an explosion of curly gray hair.

In the background, the Heliotrope Theatre facade was a painted fantasia of rainbows, floating bubbles, candy-colored ocean vistas and psychedelic skyscapes.

Zentis held a mock-up of the facade in his hand. He looked at it, scanned the building and uttered in a kind of reverie, “The colors of joy.”

Joy, in all its shapes and hues, was what Zentis said he was going for in his latest design work for the local 20th anniversary revival of “Hair,” opening at the Heliotrope tonight.

The bright, bold colors recalled Mexican building painting. Zentis’ Aquarian vision was blending nicely into the lively Latino neighborhood.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “the neighbors have been flashing us the thumbs-up sign during the days we’ve been out here painting.”

When Zentis hasn’t been at the Heliotrope, he’s been teaching production design and putting together shows at the Los Angeles High School for the Performing Arts. Or striking his gas station set of “Long Time Coming” at the Powerhouse. Or enjoying how “the kids,” as he describes the members of the Friends and Artists Ensemble, are taking to his ultra-realist set for “Moonchildren.”

“Both ‘Hair’ and ‘Moonchildren,’ ” he observed, “are about that time when people really questioned authority. They approached this in different ways, because they were different people. Sure, ‘Hair’ is celebratory and ‘Moonchildren’ is dark comedy, but they give us messages for today about then.”

Zentis insisted on calling his work “a series of challenges” rather than “jobs,” seeing his task as “to first of all understand what the play is trying to say, and then find the environment (set) and a way of looking at it (lights) that will enhance that message and propel it into the audience’s minds.”

What about Zentis’ mind? Where do the ideas come from?

“I have no idea. Just as long as they keep coming, baby. I recalled the Aquarius Theatre, how its exterior was completely painted in wild colors for the original ‘Hair,’ and that set me to thinking about doing the outside of this theater. I wanted to capture the ‘Hair’ tribe’s view of a blissful reality. By showing you that reality, and surrounding you with it as you enter the lobby and theater, it’s almost like entering a temple in which the show is a ritual of truth.”

Inside his “temple,” Zentis had created what can only be described as a set floating in a galaxy, as if a group of tree houses had been thrust into outer space, with the moon shining down on it all.

“It’s an evolution, since we’ve changed directors (from Robert J. Linden to John DiFusco, best known for the hit Vietnam play ‘Tracers’)”, he explained.

“Bob (Linden, still the show’s producer) is completely refurbishing the theater, from the bathrooms to the roof, and it was too much to direct as well.” (The theater was previously occupied by improvisational groups Sills and Co. and the Spolin Game Players, but needed extensive repairs.)

Zentis went on to say that DiFusco came in to take over. “While Bob’s view of the show was close to the original (in which a hippie tribe takes over an abandoned warehouse and makes it their home), John told me that he saw ‘Hair’ as this opening in a window that quickly opened and closed, just long enough for us to catch a glimpse of this other world.”

Fine, but how does a designer turn a cosmic idea into a set?

“Originally (with Linden), our hippies had foraged nearby and gathered together what they needed for their homes,” Zentis said. “They painted and decorated them. With John, it suddenly seemed that placing the show in a never-never land of a galaxy seemed right.”

It’s not every day that a designer has to switch directors in mid-stream, but the veteran Zentis, who emphasized that “everything I do is in service to the director,” took it in stride. “Hey, we’re even going to paint the floors with the galaxy. It’s a trip. You gotta go all the way with an idea, or forget it.”

Take that as Zentis’ motto. It’s borne out by his accomplishments: three Los Angeles Drama Critics Circle Awards (including the Margaret Harford Award for long-term contribution to smaller theater, an award seldom given to designers), resident designer at the Pasadena Playhouse from 1967 to 1969, and, except for a six-year period of commercial jobs, probably L.A.’s most prolific stage designer.

Yet, it’s been a rough course at times for the 52-year-old Pennsylvania native. “By 1986, I’d done so much commercial work that I suppose the theater community thought I wasn’t active anymore. It got a little scary trying to scrape up the rent.” (Zentis said his average pay for a Waiver show is in the $200-$500 range).

“I’d done at least 40 shows alone at the old L.A. Actors Theatre (and before that, the Oxford Playhouse). It’s funny,” he added in a rare moment of wistfulness, “since they (LAAT) moved downtown (and became L.A. Theatre Center), I haven’t heard from them.”

Though he claimed to be interested in being a resident designer at a theater, he added in the next breath that “smaller theater is where the action is. I’ve done 14 Waiver shows in the past 12 months.”

Still, there are problems. “We always have to scavenge for set materials and lights. You usually have absurd restrictions (mostly financial) on realizing your vision.” He dismissed many of the tiny Waiver spaces as “black holes.”

Zentis stared at his guest. “Theater is about the audience, not anything else. They need to be respected.” He looked around at his galaxy creation. “We need to make them feel worthwhile, from the lobby in.”