I’m old enough to remember when the 1988 film Hairspray by John “Pope of Trash” Waters was condemned by conservatives for its depiction of race relations in Civil Rights-era Baltimore, and for casting a drag queen in a major role. Nearly 40 years later, the 2002 Broadway adaptation it spawned (which was itself turned into a 2007 film with John Travolta) has become a big hit for community theaters, even as it remains a lighting rod for similar reasons as the original — only now, the pushback is coming from progressives.
Little Radical Theatrics returns to the Dr. Phillips Center’s Alexis and Jim Pugh Theater next weekend (Aug. 14-16) with their take on Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan’s musical, and cultural coordinator L’Niarae Blevins and co-choreographer Chris Payen recently took time to talk with me about why Hairspray remains compelling through all the controversies.
Blevins hails from Ohio and Payen came up from South Florida, but aside from that these two key members of Hairspray’s creative team have a remarkable amount in common. Both caught the performing bug at an early age — she at age 11 in a middle-school improv sketch comedy troupe, he as a young dancer obsessed with ’90s R&B videos — and both enjoyed formative experiences as ensemble members in previous productions of Hairspray. They also both arrived in Orlando during college; Payen studied theater at UCF and remained here to work in the theme parks, while Blevins became a Tower of Terror bellhop during her stint in Disney’s College Program before becoming a Montessori educator.
A final common link between Blevins and Payen is co-choreographer Arius West, who introduced both to Little Radical Theatrics. She was “randomly” introduced to him during a Central Florida Community Arts summer camp, while Payen has known his “bestie” for over a decade. “We’re like each other’s understudies, that’s the joke that I have,” Payen says of collaborating with West, who was called away mid-rehearsals on a cruise ship contract. “We have very similar systems, pictures, visions. … If you want that style, that vision, that vibe, that energy — the flavors of what we do — if you want all that, and you can’t get one of them, get the other. So it was a no-brainer to do it together.”
The choreographer’s role is commonly understood, but cultural coordinators aren’t (yet) as widely known. “It’s like dramaturgy, except you’re focusing [on] pinpointing exactly what’s happening right then at that time,” explains Blevins, who studied theater for social change and presented an anti-racism project under Stamped From the Beginning author Ibram X. Kendi. “My job was to come in during table work with our wonderful director Travis [Eaton and the actors], and make sure that they’re understanding some of the cultural climate around the world of Hairspray.”
That included asking each ensemble member to study an activist from the period; their picks included Marsha P. Johnson, Huey P. Newton and Zora Neale Hurston. “It’s to bring light to the characters in a way that’s different from directing, and in a way that’s different from choreographing. It’s more to bring light to their mindsets.”
Despite the team’s intentionality, LRT’s social media posts announcing Hairspray attracted comments criticizing the nontraditional casting of certain roles, as well as the “white savior syndrome” that some say spoils the story. “There’s a lot of moments in Hairspray where I feel like as a society we have evolved, and there’s a better way to say it,” says Blevins, who (like Payen) readily acknowledges the show’s problematic elements. “I’m proud of people who are able to see the show, and they’re able to point out what’s wrong with it. In some retrospects, that is the point. … It’s for discussion, it’s for conversation [and] maybe making people have conversations they normally wouldn’t have.”
At the same time, “we can still find so much good in it rather than bad — things to appreciate [like] a story that we still want to tell. Because it holds such a personal, monumental, special place in my heart, it’s one of those shows where it’s hard to let go,” says Payen. “You can still find somebody that it could speak to, somebody that it can reach, [and] I think that is the importance of theater at the end of the day.”
Regardless of any early online outcry, at the time of our interview Hairspray’s entire three-day run was already only 10 tickets away from completely selling out, which Blevins presents as evidence of the community’s support.
“Community theater should be something where everybody puts in what they can; it’s a shared responsibility to entertain the community in which you serve,” says Blevins, who highlights participants’ rare opportunity to work on a professional-quality stage like Dr. Phillips’ Pugh Theater. “I wanted to be a part of this show because I know that Hairspray at the end of the day still has a good message. I know the people who are in the show have great hearts. … That’s what being a part of this show was: coming in and being a part of a community that I love, and letting our community see us the way that they know that we are.”
Friday-Sunday, Aug. 14-16, Alexis and Jim Pugh Theater, Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, drphillipscenter.org, $59-$65.
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This article appears in Aug. 5-11, 2026.