Chicago (2002)
Directed by Rob Marshall

Film Review

It was Baz Lurhmann's Moulin Rouge (2001) which re-established the musical as a popular genre after many decades in which it had become virtually extinct in mainstream cinema.  The success of Lurhmann's film was eclipsed by that of Rob Marshall's Chicago, a similarly showy song and dance extravaganza, but one with a far more retro feel.  Whereas Lurhmann sought to re-invent the film musical for a modern audience, Marshall takes us back to the genre's glorious heyday in the '40s and '50s, and delivers a film that is high on razzamatazz but desperately low on substance.  Chicago was a phenomenal commercial and critical success (unlike the original 1975 Broadway musical on which it is based, which had been a flop).  It took over 300 million dollars at the box office worldwide and was nominated for thirteen Oscars in 2003, winning awards in six categories that included Best Picture, Best Art Direction, Best Costume and Best Supporting Actress (Catherine Zeta-Jones).  The flashy film musical was back, with a vengeance.

Bob Fosse, the director of the original Broadway show he created with John Kander and Fred Ebb, had intended making a film version of it, but died before he could realise this ambition.  Rob Marshall freely acknowledged that in making Chicago (following the musical's successful 1996 Broadway revival) he was heavily influenced by Fosse's classic musical, Cabaret (1972).  This shows not only in the sultry sensuality of the film's most striking musical numbers but also in its hard, cynical underbelly.  Chicago is the bitterest, most pungent satire on corruption in the legal system and our society's insane obsession with celebrity.  It may be set way back in the Jazz Age, but it is a film that feels chillingly relevant to our own time.

The film's one drawback is that it fails to develop its worthy central themes into anything of consequence.  Chicago is as shallow as its principal heroine, a celebrity-obsessed psychopathic killer who has as much moral sense as a house brick (with far less charm).  All of the characters are one-dimensional archetypes living in a one-dimensional comic book fantasy world.  Marshall's one inspired idea - to stage the musical numbers as imaginary cutaways from the main action, which is set in the grim, sordid reality of 1920s America - fails to have the impact it should, because of a dearth of convincing characterisation and some lacklustre screenwriting and direction.  Take away the glitz and the glamour and what lies beneath is nothing more than an emaciated rotting corpse.  The film's vitality is a sham, pure illusion.

The decision to cast Renée Zellweger (of Bridget Jones's Diary fame) and Catherine Zeta-Jones (Wales' best export since Richard Burton) was daring but is somewhat undermined by the fact that the former actress is not particularly gifted in the singing or dancing department and is out-performed by Zeta-Jones in virtually every scene.  Richard Gere is likewise a surprising choice for the lead male role but, against expectations, he delivers the goods and shows an improbable flair for comedy.  Of the principals, none can surpass the former rap star Queen Latifah, who is simply perfect as the corrupt matron Mama Morton.  Latifah gets the best number, When You're Good to Mama, the film's one true showstopper, and it is a crying shame she doesn't get more to do.

Watching Zellweger strangle the life out of her solo numbers is the price we must pay for the better numbers the film has to offer, which include the raunchy opener All That Jazz, the magnificently choreographed Cell Block Tango and the gloriously overblown Razzle Dazzle sequence.  If you're not expecting anything too profound, Chicago is as enjoyable a piece of musical escapism as you could wish for.  But whilst it offers some great numbers and no shortage of glitz, sparkle and bravura, you can't help wishing it had a little more depth and humanity to it.  Still, you can't have everything.

Film Synopsis

Chicago, in the mid-1920s.  Roxie Hart has ambitions to be a vaudeville star and believes her lover, Fred Casely, when he says he can find her an opening.  Naturally, Roxie is disappointed when, immediately after one of their illicit couplings, Fred reveals he has been lying, so she takes her revenge by pumping him full of lead.  Having failed to shift the blame for the killing onto her slow-witted husband, Roxie ends up on Murderess' Row, along with Velma Kelly, a nightclub singer who has just butchered her husband and his lover.  Having won the favour of the corrupt prison matron, Mama Morton, Roxie manages to get star lawyer Billy Flynn interested in her case.  An expert in manipulating juries and distorting the evidence in his clients' favour, Flynn is confident he can secure Roxie's acquittal.  Velma is consumed with envy when Roxie becomes a celebrity and is more than pleased when Mama Morton hands her Roxie's diary, evidence which can hardly fail to convince any jury of her guilt...