Still, Camp says he’s incredibly game about the choreography, even if she has to resort to civilian shorthand to describe the moves. (“It’s like a hug,” she offers as an example.) Camp has known Davis as long as Schaeffer has. She appreciates his determination, the way he tells her, “I’ll get it. You don’t have to dumb it down for me.”
Davis is plainly not in this just for the gag factor, a novel chance to camp it up in a plus-size dress and drawl the Baltimore “hons.” He is taking pains, he says, to make sure that his portrayal is “not insulting to women” and that the “Hairspray” message of civil rights and human rights doesn’t get marred. (Is a story refresher necessary? Baltimore, 1962, teen dance show, discrimination, comic comeuppance.)
“When you’re a large person and have always been a large person,” he says, “you have a whole different understanding of the universe.”
Schaeffer has used Davis as a walking Wikipedia for the fresh-faced cast, explaining such period references as Metrecal and Debbie Reynolds. Travolta’s o-comes out-oew accent earned praise, so Davis explains why, citing the semiotics professor he had as a lit student at Duke University. (According to Camp, Davis earned instant credibility when the young actors learned he’s a member of the Grammy Foundation board. “Whaaat?” was the impressed response.)
“I’ve so fallen in love with them,” Davis says of the company. He’s almost abashed with admiration about their hard work for low pay. “There’s no money in this game,” he says.
The biggest challenge with Davis? “Getting him to stop talking while we’re working,” Camp says.
Soon it’ll be the critics talking, which makes him nervous. “Welcome to my world,” Camp replied when he asked her to guarantee he would be good. But he’s hardly the whole show, and there are plenty of intriguing aspects to this bazillionth iteration of “Hairspray”: that young cast of locals, the most dancing yet in a Signature musical, the emergence of Camp’s 22-year-old daughter, Brianne, as an assistant choreographer.
Hard not to notice the broadcaster, though. Characteristically, he has a theory about what he’s going through. “Spoken drama is driving a car,” Davis says. “Adding music is flying a plane — it’s a whole new dimension. And adding choreography is going into space. So I’ve had three weeks to become basically an astronaut.”
style@washpost.com
Pressley is a freelance writer.
Hairspray
Nov. 21 through Jan. 29 at Signature Theatre, 4200 Campbell Ave., Shirlington. Tickets $63-$87. Call 703-573-7328 or visit signature-theatre.org.
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