chicago

Okay… so I’ve been nominated as the resident musical theatre expert. Which, unfortunately, is
fairly accurate since I spent about ten years tapping my toes and shaking my ass in national tours,
dinner theatres, and regional houses in musicals varying from sexy-Fosse style to the ultimate of
cheeseiness. (I once played a mermaid and slid around the stage on a bar stool seat with wheels
behind a big wooden “ocean.” It doesn’t get much cheesier than that.) But… for as much
knowledge and appreciation I have for stage musicals, I am not a big fan of the movie musical.
There is a certain suspension of disbelief that the stage atmosphere gives you that a movie cannot,
therefore the spontaneous eruption into song seems contrived. (Why do you think so many of the
older movie musicals ended in “Let’s put on a show!” They needed the excuse to add songs that
didn’t otherwise fit into the story.)

Anyway… with that being said….

Chicago is a brilliant film.

The original music and book are sexy and provocative and in one of the smartest, (and rarest),
decisions made, the movie makers left it alone. If it ain’t broke… don’t fix it. Instead of messing with
the plot, the director, Rob Marshall, decided to see what couldn’t be done on stage and did it on
film.

For those who haven’t seen Chicago on stage: The entire experience is one of suspended
disbelief. The set is sparse with the orchestra taking up most of center stage. There is a ramp
through the center of the orchestra where some actors enter and exit. There are two ladders on
either side of the stage that reach as high as the legs. (Legs are the vertical curtains that separate
the space offstage.) These ladders swing like a door and are occasionally used as entrances and
exits. There are chairs lined up behind these ladders where the actors sit when they are not
performing. No one is really costumed (except Mary Sunshine who is actually a man in drag… one
of the few things they changed.) but instead wear black, skintight dancewear. The numbers are
presented in a vaudeville style. There is never a moment when the audience thinks that they are
seeing real life.

What the film was able to do was show the real world of the depression and poverty of the 20’s with
the drab colors and waspish figure of Roxie while simultaneously illustrating the “razzle-dazzle” of
the roaring 20’s with Velma. Roxie wants to be like Velma, so she imagines herself in that kind of a
world, hence the dancing and singing in fabulous costumes in vibrant colors while cutting back to
the gray-scale real world.

Billy Flynn creates his own world through deception, slick wit, and charm that makes you not completely trust his world even when it’s the real one and not the
imaginary one. Just like a lawyer. His first song is all about “All I care about is love”, yet his first scene is “All I care about it money.” He’s obviously a charming
and attractive man, yet he has no interest in any of the beautiful women he represents. He takes their money, makes them famous, and proves them “innocent”,
then finds someone new before the ink is dry.

The chorus, especially the “Cell Block Tango” girls are the best dancers I’ve seen on film. They are flawless and fierce and momentarily make you wish the film
was about them. Then Renee Zellweger comes back on with her charming little voice and strong acting skills and steals the movie right back.
Catherine Zeta Jones is a seasoned stage performer and brings that aspect to the role of Velma.

This works for the character in her bigger than the biggest portrayal. John C. Reilly is spot on with this character and made him likeable, which is really hard to
do while trying to be weak and unassuming at the same time. Queen Latifa brought life to the role of Mama, a role I generally don’t enjoy, but in this case loved.
Richard Gere was the biggest surprise. Of course he’s cute and charming and can act, but who knew he could sing and dance? His numbers are playful and
surprisingly graceful and effortless. There isn’t a weak link in any part of this film.