Alyssa Cwanger, Post-Gazette Veronica Noceti refreshes makeup for Katy Wallander during intermission of the "Pajama Game" at Baldwin High School as Meg Curley watches at right. Click photo for larger image. More pictures View more pictures from the "Pajama Game" and other shows in the special gallery High School Musicals 2005.

Good things come in small packages, they say, but big can be good, too. That's certainly true of last week's "The Pajama Game" at Baldwin High School, where there is sufficient school size and musical theater tradition to put a lot of kids on stage, well-supported in the orchestra pit, backstage and by parents and community.

That fullness of involvement is the theme of the program essay by director/producer Kris Tranter, who cites more than 130 students involved. Actually, I think it's more than that, but beyond them were all the other school personnel and the parents, who help not just in car pooling and putting up with late rehearsals, disrupted family schedules and bursts of song or dance around the house, but also by contributing work on sets, costumes and ticket sales.

And money. A big high school musical doesn't run just on talent, energy, emotion and sleeplessness. As with most schools, the Baldwin spring musical is charged with raising its own funds. This year's ticket sales provide the funds on which next year's show will depend. Baldwin also has an organized Baldwin-Whitehall Friends of the Theater Arts, providing financial support in recognition of the learning in such a large-scale arts project.

You could say that all this involvement dovetails fittingly with the themes of "The Pajama Game." As Hines jokes in his introductory monologue, it's about the conflict between capital and labor and is full of deep economic symbolism. But actually, it's a comedy about how the good of the whole group is essential to the happiness of individuals.

	Alyssa Cwanger, Post-Gazette Justin Fortunato pprtrays Heinz in Baldwin High School's production of the "Pajama Game." Click photo for larger image.

The show is set in the 1950s, somewhere in the American heartland. The union at the Sleeptite Pajama Factory has been trying to get a 7 1/2 cents an hour raise to catch up to the industry standard, but has been denied by the company president, Mr. Hassler. Caught in between is Sid Sorokin, the new factory superintendent, who's in love with Babe Williams, a worker and member of the union's grievance committee.

Described like this, it could be the plot-line for some didactic drama of noble workers and oppressive bosses. But the book by George Abbott and Richard Bissell, based on the latter's novel, isn't really interested in economic forces or the rights of the working class; it's interested in comedy based on individual character. It turns out Hassler has already put the 7 1/2 cents on the books, but there's no sense of the company's (or even less, his) wrongdoing; the discovery simply provides Sid with a way to end the impasse and be a hero.

Hassler may be the villain, but he's just a fuddy-duddy, and on the other side, Prez, the union head, is no better, being a dim bulb and philanderer. But just in case the class politics seem slanted in favor of the workers, there's also a running gag about a worker with a fake injury that he keeps trying to exploit.

Similarly, Hines suffers from jealousy and can't hold his liquor, a combination with dangerous results, but he is mainly a comic second banana.

	Alyssa Cwanger, Post-Gazette Ushers Shayne Souleret and Craig Bieltz dress in the spirit of "The Pajama Game" to pass out programs. Click photo for larger image.

Even Sid and Babe aren't as bright as they might be, but among such eccentrics, they seem like heroes. It's easy to root for them, because their match will resolve the boss-worker conflict.

For many scenes, Baldwin used painted drops, with smaller sets for the company office and Babe's kitchen, but the very effective major set was the factory floor, with a high balcony on three sides and two other platforms, making possible a good variety of staging.

Tranter's direction and Diane Meredith's choreography made their grandest effects in the two best production numbers, "Once a Year Day" (at the company picnic) and "Seven and a Half Cents" (at the union rally), which filled the stage with ebullience, color and rhythm, with cartwheels and baton twirling where appropriate.

In the early "Racing with the Clock" number, eight sewing stations spun around as if they were dancers themselves, and there was a modern intrusion of three guys doing trash barrel drumming.

The primary dancers, though, were a corps of eight, pretty and lithe. It was they who did "Steam Heat" with the requisite Fosse-esque black tights, bowlers, glitter and angular bodies, backed by further dancers.

The costumes made their best impression in the explosion of pastels at the picnic and the variety of pajamas for the finale. Brad Schulte's lights included an ambitious Act 1 finale, with Sid bathed in slanted shadows, but some of the sudden shifts to spotlights for songs were awkward and unnecessary.

As to sound, the chief problem beyond the occasional balky mike was that the ensemble was unmiked, making it sometimes fainter than individual leads.

The student orchestra of 50-plus, led by Gary McKeever, was a strength, especially the strings.

In general, the cast was better in voice than acting. You don't find many high school boys with the full, robust voice with which Connor Nowalk's Sid belted out "There Once Was a Man."

His other solos were equally strong, more than compensating for stiff acting.

As Babe, Gail Hofbauer showed a nice balance between solid, self-possessed acting and capable singing.

Michelle Jenkins was a perky, funny Gladys -- just the sort of flirt to send Justin Fortunato's Hines over the edge.

John Graham's conceited Prez was at his funniest when paired unexpectedly (to him) with Becky Proie's post-nasal-drippy Mae. Kevin Phillifent was an appealing, country-accented Pop.

Others had small comic bits to enliven the show, and it was a heartening sign of its sense of inclusion that one ensemble member was wheelchair-bound.

My favorite part of every high school musical -- the post-show meltdown, when cast and audience blend in a chaotic, happy lobby -- had an extra fillip at Baldwin.

For once, there was no trouble picking out the cast from families and friends: they were the ones in pajamas.

	Alyssa Cwanger, Post-Gazette This was the view from the wings as performers sang "Once A Year Day" during Act I of Baldwin High School's production of the "The Pajama Game" last week. Click photo for larger image. Index to coverage of this year's high school musicals