Roxie did it because she wanted to be famous. It was a crime of passion. And passion is what is missing in Chicago, an extremely entertaining film filled with wonderful musical numbers but little depth save for one touching number by the ubiquitous John C. Reilly.

Although I have not seen the stage production on which this is based, I have no doubt that the screenplay is fairly faithful to the original that inspired it. Roxie Hart (a very skinny and cute Renée Zellweger) dreams of a life in show business. She is married to a hapless mechanic (an excellent, as always, John C. Reilly). Roxie seeks sexual satisfaction with other men one of which beds her by promising a shot on the stage. When he reveals to her that he has no show-biz connections with which to help further her non-existent career, she shoots him. He dies.

Roxie is incarcerated pending trial in a Chicago jail or prison of some sort referred to as “murders row.” This jail is run by a voluptuous warden named “Mama” (a hefty but none-the-less sexy Queen Latifah). Roxie is introduced to her fellow jail-mates who are all accused or convicted of killing the men in their lives. One in particular, Velma Kelly (Catherine Zeta-Jones), is a popular entertainer accused of killing her sister and their business manager. Both women are eventually represented by renown (and unscrupulous) attorney Billy Flynn (Richard Gere). A fight for headlines overshadows the ensuing trial that may result in a hanging (you know, capital punishment).

My wife and I caught Dreamgirls last time it was in Atlanta, Georgia. That production featured Jennifer Holiday whose vocal gymnastics alone were worth the price of admission. While watching Chicago the movie, I realized why movie musicals don’t always work as well as their stage counterparts. Except in rare occasions, the life is sucked out a musical by taking it to the screen. There is a lack of spontaneity and the music is just too perfect, not natural. One gets the impression that the actors aren’t really doing the singing and that the close-ups are the product of careful editing instead of part of the show.

In the theater, at a stage production, after a big number, there usually is a round of applause. This doesn’t happen very often in the movie theater. In a stage production, there is an intermission where I usually visit the restroom and grab either a coffee or a mixed drink. At the cinema, the last intermission I remember took place at a screening of Gone With The Wind I caught at the Fox in Atlanta (I vaguely remember one for David Lynch’s Dune, but I could be wrong). Movies these days are trimmed by the size of the American bladder. Finally, a stage production can be different every night. And although one can get something different upon repeat viewings, arguably, a movie is always the same, consistent.

This is not say that Chicago the movie is not worth seeing. It is. I think that audiences will find it fun but I doubt that it will break box office records. This is not Moulin Rouge which benefited greatly from a hybrid pop music soundtrack. While light and funny, the story of Chicago is really all farce. John C. Reilly (who can be seen in virtually every film of 2002 including Gangs of New York, The Good Girl, The Hours, and the upcoming Anger Management) offers up the best performance and the most moving musical number by playing the simple Amos Hart, jilted but still devoted husband of the starry eyed schemer Roxie.

Much will said of Zellweger’s snarling, scene chewing, winking performance as Roxie Hart. She throws herself out there enough to garner an Oscar nomination (which will undoubtedly be won by one of the actresses from The Hours instead of by the deserving Diane Lane this year). Unlike Bridget Jones, Zellweger’s Roxie is a waif with the innocent qualities of Nurse Betty and the darn-right meanness of Irene Waters (her forgettable role in Me, Myself & Irene). Zellweger is a real star here taking up much screen time. Her voice, if it is her’s, is strong and well suited for the material. Still, Zeta-Jones really upstages her in the dancing department.

When I saw Chicago it had not, yet, been rated. The language used ensures that it will receive, at least, a "PG-13" rating. I fear that without an “R” rating this film might be pitched as good family viewing. I warn readers that this is not a film for your young daughters. While clearly a parody, the subject manner and shallow characters have little redeeming value and the moral of the story may be that crime (even murder) might just pay handsomely.

Jonathan W. Hickman, 2002