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Chicago
Directed by: Rob Marshall___________________________________
You won’t see a man dance with wife but that shouldn’t diminish the sheer enjoyment of the bold, brash and kinetic screen version of Chicago. The leap from stage to screen, while not totally fluid, has an energy and invention that overcomes even the most obvious limitations of this adaptation.
Based upon the musical by Bob Fosse and Fred Ebb from the play that spawned the 1942 Ginger Rogers movie Roxie Hart, Chicago is a free-wheeling yarn about a couple of prohibition-era showgirls in the clink for a pair of passion d’amore murders. With a healthy assist from an unscrupulous lawyer, and a headline hungry core of yellow journalists, the women become media darlings and public favorites. It’s no wonder Al Capone was only convicted of tax fraud and Billy Sunday’s crusade went on deaf ears.
However, aside from the visceral fun, there‘s precious little that resonates for contemporary audiences. There are obvious parallels between the bygone era and today’s celebrity mania that anoints hitherto unknowns like Survivor participants (“because you’re on television” Howard Beale) and this society has long embraced the lawlessness of The Untouchables period in the skewered belief that the gangsters were Robin Hoods fighting the hopelessness of the depression.
It’s likely that had the filmmakers simply transferred the tuner from the footlights to the silver screen it would have landed in theaters with a thud. So, much in the way that Fosse himself reconceived Cabaret (admittedly better source material) for the movies, screenwriter Bill Condon structures the film in classic Brechtian terms. The story unfolds very much like the play but a series of tableaus, in the form of cabaret numbers, are intercut and one informs the other.
In “All He Cares About is Love,” for instance, lawyer Billy Flynn (Richard Gere) tells the press corps he’s taken on Roxie’s (Renee Zellweger) case for altruistic reasons, as a production number with the actor and a bevy of glamorous chorines reminiscent of the Goldwyn Girls reveal his baser monetary interest and well-developed ego. It’s a credit to the script and Rob Marshall’s direction that the construct never comes off as schematic or didactic.
The film opens with Velma (Catherine Zeta-Jones) arriving late and out-of-breath to perform her sister act solo at a Windy City hot spot. As she belts out “All That Jazz” we witness the events that occurred earlier that night - Velma witnessing her sister doing the “dirty” deed with her husband and responding by pumping a lot of lead into the consenting pair. It’s the stuff that sells newspapers and the sultry performer is a great front page cover girl.
Coincidently, so to speak, Roxie happens to be in the audience. Aspiring to Velma’s celebrity, she’s on the arm of someone who claims to have “connections.” A short time later, when he grows tired of her and opts to dump her unceremoniously, she responds in Velma-fashion. Initially, she gets her doltish husband (John C. Reilly) to take the heat but the police see through the flimsy alibi and Roxie is charged and jailed. Luckily, husband Amos remains blindly loyal and the intersession of warden “Mama” Morton (Queen Latifa) lands her Flynn’s pricey representation. Painted as a good girl gone wrong the press eats it up, pushing Velma to the back of the paper.
It’s no surprise that the original play was drawn from the Cook County police blotter. Scandalous in its day, time and familiarity have made it hackneyed with age. But given some spirited song and dance and sterling performers (Gwenn Verdon and Chita Rivera in their prime) the musical sparkled.
The film version retains a lot of the “Razzle Dazzle,” albeit dimmed by the casting of lesser musical talents. Zeta-Jones, a trained dancer, is the only truly acceptable lead and she performs with gusto and aplomb. Gere, while capable as a dancer, only just gets by as a singer. And the support work by Queen Latifa and Reilly - who’s exceptional in his “Mr. Cellophane” solo - Is a great asset.
However, Zellweger is a real weak link, possessing even less ability than the second-rate performer she portrays. She captures Roxie’s naivety but the role demands a true musical talent (think Liza Minnelli playing the supposedly mediocre Sally Bowles) to fully pull off the part.
The contrast between the literal and fanciful allows Chicago some latitude in masking the performer’s ability, particularly in Terpsichore. Still, Marshall shies away from medium shots even when he has trained dancers as in “Cell Block Tango” which features the other female killers on death row. It’s a curiosity but the sheer brio of the piece only brings it to mind on reflection.
It doesn’t seem possible that we’ll ever see the musical return as a screen staple. The demise of the studio system effectively did in those glorious MGM and RKO fantasies with Fred, Ginger, Judy and Gene. Chicago, even with its roots on Broadway, is a wonderful throwback and, maybe, with its success and that of Moulin Rouge, there’s hope that the old warhorse will get out of the barn a couple of times a year.
A Miramax Films release of a Producers Circle Co. production. Produced by Martin Richards. Director/choreographer, Rob Marshall. Screenplay, Bill Condon, based upon the musical by Bob Fosse and Fred Ebb and the play by Maurine Dallas Watkins. Camera, Dion Beebe. Editor, Martin Walsh. Music, John Kander, Ebb, Danny Elfman. Production design, John Myhre. Costumes, Colleen Atwood.
Catherine Zeta-Jones (Velma Kelly), Renee Zellweger (Roxie Hart), Richard Gere (Billy Flynn), Queen Latifa (“Mama” Morton), John C. Reilly (Amos Hart), Christine Baranski (Mary Sunshine), Lucy Liu (Kitty).
 |
Release
Date: December 27, 2002
Rated: NR
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Starring: Renee Zellweger, Catherine Zeta-Jones,
Richard Gere, Christine Baranski,
Taye Diggs
Produced by: Martin Richards, Marty Richards II, Harvey Weinstein
Written by: Bill Condon, Fred Ebb
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Distributor:
Miramax
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Review Date: December 29, 2002
