Chicago (2002)

For months, I have had an urge in the back of my mind to watch the movie "Chicago" again.  It has been one of my all-time favorties for over 10 years (second only to "Hedwig & The Angry Inch" is where I have always said it rates), and I saw it in the theatres exactly 13 times (the same number of Emmy nominations the film received, which was not at all coincidental).  I absolutely loved it, but a drilled down analysis on *why* I loved it so much never seemed necessary.  While the necessity is still very much in doubt, a few reasons struck me on this most recent viewing.

Consider all the things that a film can be, e.g., entertaining, depressing, comical, poignant, uplifting, etc., and "Chicago" seemingly had it all.  It blended worlds of fantasy with reality effortlessly. The story itself was explicitly entertaining, but the social commentary was subtly depressing while remaining very poignant and definitely relevant.

The imagery was vivid and zesty when it needed to be, not when it shouldn't be, but the times when the two were intentionally juxtaposed were marvelous without becoming cliché.  The symbolism was generally minimal and (arguably) unnecessary, sans the noticeable use of white and red handkerchiefs indicative of innocence and guilt.  Likewise, the sporadic appearances of the chorus line girls during the trial served its purpose masterfully.

Socially speaking, the idea that the press can create a media celebrity was certainly worth revisiting.  By 2002, our society was several years removed from the "Trial of the Century" with O. J. Simpson, which brought the concept mainstream, but the fact that murder, trials, and executions draw an audience differently but equally to those drawn to entertainment event alone was perfectly accentuated in the modern adaptation.

Additionally, the mere blend of fantasy and reality that I mentioned previously was more difficult to perfect in film than I think many people appreciated (consider "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" if in doubt).  Aside from the initial moment where Roxie replaces Velma Kelly on stage, all of the jumps were perfectly timed and meaningful.

Revisiting the film this week, however, also reminded me of the best part of the movie-going experience itself of this film in particular.  Invariably, I could identify couples entering the theatre where it was presumed that the woman got to choose, but then the man clearly enjoyed the film more thoroughly.  Without fail, the film's first line to elicit an audience uproar was Roxie Hart's "you are a disloyal husband" accusation to Amos.  From then on, the chuckles generally resounded louder than the giggles.

If you have not seen the film, then I highly recommend it universally.  If you have not seen it lately and enjoyed it the first time, then it is worth revisiting.