The national tour of Chicago, with all its gin and sin, has slunk onto the stage of Wolf Trap in DC, once again putting before audiences the saga of rival murderesses Roxie Hart and Velma Kelly.
The production keeps its energy at a consistently high pitch, offers a talented armada of dancers and finds an ideal Roxie in Michelle DeJean. However, other lead performances are uneven and the revival itself is--dare I say it--overrated.
To admit that one is less than passionate about the Chicago revival may be tantamount to admitting that one feels distaste for chocolate—so perhaps an explanation is in order. Chicago, as a musical, is absolutely brilliant—a scathing satire of celebrity as a three-ring media circus. Originally seen on Broadway in 1975, it was ahead of its less jaded times and, while a commercial success, was famously overshadowed by A Chorus Line. With the revival (which has run for almost 10 years now and inspired an Oscar-winning film), Ann Reinking created near-copulatory choreography inspired by Bob Fosse's original and under the direction of Walter Bobbie, its look was stripped down to a set of darkly abstract bones with the orchestra planted up onstage--think an S&M club run by Bertolt Brecht.
Chicago4a.jpg" vspace="0"/>Some of Bobbie's choices are striking and Reinking's choreography is often exciting; there's much to applaud and audiences having their first encounter with the show will probably greet it with a rapturous standing ovation. Yet the revival is a far conceptual cry from the production originally envisioned by its creators--a seamy vaudeville about two aging, slightly grotesque chorines aching to seize the spotlight by any means necessary (much of the vaudeville context, unfortunately, was also minimized for the revival—i.e. a ladder's taking the place of the torch song piano of "Funny Honey").
Roxie's exclamation before the song bearing her name—"I'm older than I ever intended to be"—is the key to the neglected subtext. It's hard to consider the plight of two women clutching at the shreds of optimistic youth when watching Roxies and Velmas who might live at Bally's Total Fitness, with perky breasts, toned abs and the ability to look dynamite in William Ivey Long's black vinyl and lace costumes (not to claim that original stars Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera were exactly out-of-shape). Sure, '20s Chicago was a sexy, sinful place—but for Roxie and Velma, sex is a weapon that's losing its edge.
Chicago's plot is familiar to most by now: B-grade chorus girl Roxie shoots her lover in a crime of passion, upstages fellow show biz murderess Velma and allows lawyer Billy Flynn to manipulate the public's sympathies and secure her freedom (but not necessarily lasting fame).
Roxie, Velma and Billy are three of the best showcase roles in musical theatre, but only one of the lead performers in the touring company completely soars. DeJean gives a richly multifaceted portrayal or Roxie, a woman who can only think highly of herself when her photo is plastered in a newspaper. DeJean, who dances with skill and grace and has a ravishing belt voice, gives us a Roxie who is at once, lewdly goofy, self-absorbed, sad, calculating, childish and vulnerable. She nails Roxie's poignant fear of being a nobody, as well as the character's inability to accept that she is past her prime.
