(Anthem Art and Culture), by Gary Morris (Editor), Bert Cardullo (Introduction), Jonathan Rosenbaum (Foreword). London and New York: Anthem Press, 2009.
— David Hudson, IFC.com
Over in India, they've got it all figured out. So what if your gorgeous
leading man is a reedy baritone who misses middle C four out of five
times? Just dub in a glorious heldentenor and watch the babes go wild!
And if he can't dance either, just bring in another ringer. What are
movies about but suspension of disbelief?
Catherine Zeta-Jones stars as double-murderess Velma Jones, the ball-busting
mother of butch. Her opening number, "All That Jazz," is an exercise
in lib-curling excess that makes Elvis look like Julius La Rosa.4
Renée Zellweger takes the role of single-murderess Roxie Hart, and it's
fun for a while to see a cunning brain hiding behind her cute little
puppy-dog face, but the bit quickly gets old. Richard Gere plays super-shyster
Billy Flynn, who ultimately springs both babes.
1. Consider the plight of poor Madonna, who can sing and dance (pretty much) and is quite reasonably gorgeous, but can't act worth a damn, and thus is destined to hatch one celluloid turkey after another, until she gets tired of trying. We shouldn't be too hard on the Material One. Cross-overs defeat the best of us. Sharon Stone once remarked of her own attempts at singing, "I felt so out of place! Kinda like Madonna at the Academy Awards." (Oh Sharon, you cunt. You big, beautiful cunt.)
2. I walked out on Moulin Rouge after twenty minutes. To pay eight bucks to be insulted is, well, insulting.
3. "Sophisticated, brash, sardonic, completely joyful in its execution," raves Stephanie Z in Salon. Stephanie, honey! Listen to the voice of experience! Sloe gin and Ecstasy don't mix!
4. Used to be big.
5. I'm told that Zeta-Jones once was a tap-dancing champ. She's obviously in great shape, but dances like a weight-lifter, hitting the floor so hard you expect her to crash through it. One has to wonder how long poor Michael Douglas is going to last.
6. Watkins only wrote one other play in her lifetime, but did work as a scriptwriter in Hollywood for about twenty years. She did not like people to know that Chicago was a largely accurate portrait of Chicago journalism and her role in it. She never allowed the play to be revived on the stage, and only her death allowed the musical version to go forward.
7. Not to sound too much like Louie B. Mayer, but Cabaret has approximately one million times as much heart as Chicago.
8. In 1926, Chicago was America's sin city par excellence. Naming a play "Chicago" back then was like naming a play "Vegas" today (or maybe "Brentwood").
9. Want some real Weimar? Check out the review of Mahagonny in this issue.
10. Not yet a woman, already a has-been? Don't count Britney out! I think the kid has legs!
