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I'm one of these people who never got over being a theater
dork in high school and college. I love nothing more than
going to see a good, old-fashioned musical with a girl from
the escort service so I don't look gay. But I prefer the old
fashioned work of Guys and Dolls and Oklahoma! Simple
stories with simple sets where the story is told through the
emotion of the song. Since it is a musical, that seemingly
makes sense. Now, thanks to the increased costs of theater
rentals and touring companies, the Modern Musical has to get
asses in the seats. People could go watch Two Weeks Notice
or Harry Potter for eight bucks. Why pay fifty
bucks to see a bunch of "billies" in tights prance
in front of a curtain. So now, with the onslaught of the Sir
Andrew Lloyd Weber style of theater, no one is entertained
unless there are helicopters landing on stage or big balls
of fire blasting out on the audience- either in the form of
pyrotechnics or Nathan Lane. Essentially, musicals have become
an in-your-face form of Bruckheimer spectacle. Stage would
still be considered upscale and inaccessible if the producers
did not embrace such measures. Now we have a film adaptation
of the musical Chicago, an almost definitive entry
into the post-Cats theatrical tradition. As a staged
show, the story of murder and celebrity in the jazz and booze-soaked
Windy City offered nothing more than some brassy yet forgettable
tunes squeezed in between revolving sets and out-of-period
sex jokes. This forgettable musical so longing to wow the
cineplex set now gets transplanted back to film with minimal
results.
Chicago depicts the titular city as a giant stage
full of splashy sets and easy times despite the Depression-era
time period. Roxy Hart (Renee Zellwegger) is a wet behind
the ears, bored housewife who dreams of being a big time singer.
However, her ambition is so misdirected that she sleeps with
a furniture salesman in the hopes of making it big. But when
that ends up to be a sham, she shoots her beau in the same
kind of way big star Velma Kelly (Catherine Zeta-Jones) has
done. Apparently, this is the hot new trend among celebrities
and posers. It's kind of like Heathers except with
flappers. And why not since ever good looking chick with nice
legs immediately becomes a media darling once behind bars.
While receving attention from the press thanks to warden/agent
Momma (Queen Latifah), they also get plenty of help from fast-talking
and tap-dancing (Literally. How about that?) litigator Billy
Flynn (Richard Gere) Roxy's trial is quite a spectacle, where
Billy hopes to use some flash and splash in addtion to his
client's gams in order to get her off and to get off the jury.
In a way, the trial functions as a microcosm for the entire
film. Like I said earlier, Chicago has no aspirations
to make any comments on the social and political mores of
a very interesting city in a very interesting time. The big
message is that Criminals can be Celebrities.Simple and overdone
begins to describe this but there's no need to spend time
on Bill Condon's (Gods and Monsters) adaptation when
the film would rather rely on set pieces to tell its story.
There's a press conference Billy sets up for Roxy and it is
visualized as a ventriliquist act. Clever idea, but I can
hardly remember a lyric from the whole number. Then, there's
the musical number which has the imprisoned women explain
why the men they killed "had it coming" and the
film's way of expressing the emotions from this moment is
to have the women slink around in S and M outfits.
I guess what I'm trying to get at is the fact that Chicago
relies to much on style than on substance. And it's not
as though the style is that great to begin with. If anyone
can tell me how first-time director Rob Marshall liberates
this story from the stage, I would love to know what it is.
Everything here looks like it just swooped in from the wings.
It's no less impressive than what it looked like when I saw
it at thed Fox Theatre in St. Louis a few years ago. Hence,
it just looks like a cheap carbon copy of a medium trying
to keep up with the marginalization of its audience. So much
time has to go into the look of musicals these days that very
little time is put into the story let alone the songs. Oh
sure, the numbers are bawdy and elaborate, but do you hear
people humming tunes from it while they walk out of the theater?
Can you talk to anyone who's seen it who can name one song
from the soundtrack? I just watched it the other day and I
can say that the answers to these questions totally allude.
Once again, it's another example that the sole function of
the Modern Musical is the keep the audience distracted long
enough to forget about the price of the ticket. So why are
all of these critics, including the National Board of Review
and the Golden Globes, going ga-ga over this movie? Because
it's something. It's not New York New York. It's not
Newsies or Everyone Says I Love You. Sure, Moulin
Rouge was a popular film musical but that used pop songs
and was too ironic to really be considered a musical. I think
this gives the audience thristing for this type of film hope
and that means the more praise, the better.
I guess the one thing this movie has going for it is star
power, or something like that anyway. Vonna should be a pathetic
figure watching her fame slip from her fingers, but Zeta-Jones
seems to busy trying to remember the choreography that she
totally forgets to add anything to her character. But boy,
Richard Gere sure can tap dance but his Billy Flynn is so
one-dimensional that his whole performance comes off as the
worst, most tedious lawyer joke ever told. And, not to use
an old urban legend, but Gere's singing is so forced that
it looks like a gerbil is scratching around his rectum every
time he squeezes out a note. The only person that comes off
with any worth is Zellwegger. No matter how misguided her
character is- unknowing yet ambitious at one moment becoming
sociopathic and maniacal the next moment with no reason- she
still proves to be the great comic actress of our generation.
Her sour puss is the perfect punctuation to most of the situations
and the natural humor she injects into her readings. She makes
a line like "Thanks for nothing" into something
noteworthy. That may be worth the eight bucks you pay. Hey,
that's worth more than some splashy sets and songs that barely
register as long as the song itself. Chicago is nice
to look at, but in the end it merely represents the end of
great theater and the beginning of the cheap sentiment of
the Modern Musical in film.
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