Some cultural phenomena never die, and that most definitely includes the the high school musical.

Bernadette Peters could prove it with her Tony statues. Zac Efron could prove it with his wallet. ABC could prove it with their new reality competition, Get In The Picture, where kids desperately vie to be incorporated into the High School Musical franchise.

And online, YouTube has proven it with user jaytomlin69, a genius who has posted footage not only of 42nd Street performed at Ozark, Alabama's own Carroll High School circa 1987, but pre-show backstage preparation, too!

The girls who sing the show's signature number, "We're In The Money," follow every rule imaginable regarding how a high school musical production should look:

  • "New York-ese" dialogue, delivered by way of Alabama at rapid pace and full volume shriek
  • Costumes that indicate the characters being a group of gangsters, clowns, or hobos
  • Singing so nasal that the actresses might as well have just screamed, "WE ARE SINGING MUSIC!"
  • Weak-ass trumpeting (always blame the maestro)
  • Smiles so sugary sweet, the cast might as well all be diabetic
  • Grand, gloriously awkward gestures
  • Silly hats! Silly hats! Silly hats!

Nevertheless, the big group number that follows the hobo gangster-clowns is quite impressive. It's bright, glitzy and extremely choreographed. Not that subtlety or nuance should have been a factor in Carroll High's production of 42nd Street, but that not one emerald green sparkle appears out of place is a credit to the show's solid grasp on, well, showiness.



Born in Queens, New York in 1983 and raised in the city's suburbs, I'm the last person to imagine what it would be like in Ozark, Alabama in 1987. But if John Hughes, Friday Night Lights and Varsity Blues serve as responsible representations of youth south of the Mason-Dixon, I'll assume that, like anywhere else, the budding Broadway babies of Carroll High were just as enthusiastic about their bowler hats and tuxedos as Zac Efron is about his pimpin' white track suit.

And apparently I'm right. In the video below of the cast backstage, watch as the overexcited Carroll High students exude that remarkable excitement and self-importance that has accompanied generation after generation of "theater kids" (and follow along with my time coded play-by-play and more, after the jump!):


  • 0:00: So...what color are we going for here? Were people tinted magenta in the 1940's?
  • 0:15: There, now your mustache looks realistic!
  • 1:22: Who let the hippie chick in here? BE GONE WITH YOU, STRANGER!
  • 1:38: Teenage awkwardness at its most palpable.
  • 2:30: Who will end up with the most chemically-imbalanced hair? We'll know by curtain call.
  • 3:30: Ah, the pep talk. When the director gives a pre-show speech, everyone listens (but only after feeling responsible enough to shush everyone else).
  • 3:36: Future devoted Red Hot Chili Peppers groupie.
  • 3:45: Future local bathroom wall celebrity.
  • 3:58: There's always that teacher who helps out baclstage just to vicariously fill the void left by being passoved over for the role of Mother Superior (twice).
  • 4:32: Everyone's favorite sexually ambigious theater club president.
  • 4:53: Mr. Shirley, whatever it is you did for the show, those kids really seem to like you, although that could very well be because the kids feel bad that your name is Mr. Shirley.
  • 5:42: Victim of the 80's or the wardrobe department? We may never know.
  • 6:29: Someone likes herself...a lot. She's totally pulling a 1987 version of the MySpace photo shoot.

The characterizations of the students are so vivid, so funny and embarrassing that the footage almost seems scripted. Everyone captured on film, too, seems genuinely thrilled to be part of the show and thoroughly dissapointed to see it end. And that is, of course, the sweet reward of being part of the high school musical. Whether it's 1987 or 2087 (although, by then, Wall-E: The Musical will probably performed by actual robots), this footage from Carroll High's performance of 42nd Street will remind us that despite the syrupy nature of seeing girls wearing fedoras and fake mustaches or the aural agony that is the attention-hungry sophomore who turns a bawdy classic into a Pussycat Dolls-ready striptease, the high school musical will live on forever.

Or at least in Ozark, Alabama.