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HAIRSPRAY
Directed and Choreographed by: Adam Shankman
Written by: Leslie Dixon
Starring: Nikki Blonsky, John Travolta, Michelle Pfeiffer and Christopher Walken
Running Time: 117 min.
Aspect Ratio: cinemascope3.jpg
Rating: ★★★☆☆
Given the amount of dirty looks this reporter has cast towards contemporary Hollywood musicals. it's a wonder I even agreed to step into Hairspray.
The 1988 version of Hairspray marked a turning point in director John Waters' scatalogically delicious career. He went from giving us an unrated Divine dinner of dog doody to a PG studio film aimed at Middle America. As a filmmaker, John Waters is nothing without shock.
So much has mortified and offended audiences since Pink Flamingos first hit the midnight circuit in 1972. Nowadays, fart humor has become de rigeur even in Disney films. When A Dirty Shame tried to return Waters to his rancid, ratings-bucking ways, he could barely muster enough filth to earn an NC-17.
Waters is the lecherous pervert with the Little Richard mustache who over the years has become a corporate spokesperson for armchair degenerates across America. (He appears briefly in the remake as a flasher, a concept that went out with Arte Johnson and Laugh In.) Perhaps the most shocking development in the director's professional career was the transformation of one of his films into a mainstream Broadway musical. Even more outrageous, it was such a smash that it spawned another Hollywood rendition.
It is precisely because Waters sold out that I found much to abhor in his waste-free original. To make matters worse, as a director he ranks slightly above Kevin Smith and William Beaudine. No one in their right mind has ever attended a Waters show in search of mise-en-scene or other forms of cinematic enlightenment.
Add to all of this the promise of another big name actor on the skids (John Travolta) playing drag in a fat suit, and you may begin to understand my trepidation. After suffering through Moulin Rouge, Chicago, Rent and Dream Girls, it is once again safe to see a Hollywood musical.
Big girl Tracy Turnblad (newcomer Nikki Blonski) is in constant motion: she's a Jell-O mold with a wave machine trapped inside. It's 1962 and her dream is to mingle with the beautiful people by becoming a regular cast member on The Corny Collins Show, a daily televised dance party that features dangerous race music for clean cut white teenagers.
Her corpulent mother Edna (Travolta) wants to shelter her baby from the evils of the world. At least Edna practices what she preaches. Mom hasn't set foot out of the house since the 50s. Given a chance to audition for Corny (James Marsden), Tracy lands a spot on the show and over night becomes it biggest star...in more ways than one.
While in detention, Tracy mingles with minorities and it isn't long before she's championing racial equality and trying to integrate the bandstand. Even her best friend Penny Pingleton (the bubbly, perfectly cast Amanda Bynes) senses that it won't be long before the cherry lollipop in her mouth is replaced with a big black penis.
The first thing to catch the viewer's eye is the strategy that went into planning each shot so the musical numbers would seamlessly cut together. This isn't the Moulin Rouge Mixmaster approach to editing, nor does director/choreographer Adam Shankman incessantly keep his camera in close. With the exception of Bob Fosse, most Broadway choreographers don't make an easy transition to Hollywood director. (Take his directing partner Stanley Donen out of the equation and you have every right to decline Gene Kelly's Invitation to the Dance.) This is one of those rare instances where a choreographer envisions the way his scenes will play on the screen, not the stage.
At times, the period décor is responsible for as many laughs as the actors. From mechanical Charlie Weaver bartenders to a smoke-filled teacher's lounge, production designer David Gropman works overtime to give the film its perfect 60s flavor. Bojan Bazelli's bright, shadow-less, candy colored cinematography adds just the right amount of bounce that prohibits the proceedings from becoming dry and listless.
The second act wilts due in large part to a well intentioned civil rights subplot that seems out of place in this satirical environment. Waters' tongue was firmly planted in his cheek when he tried to add a bit of social significance to his version. Queen Latifah parading her sisters through the streets of Baltimore bears an uncomfortable resemblance to Dream Girls.
The cast is wonderful. Ms. Blonski is a suitable Ricki Lake clone, a pudgy Connie Francis always poised to wow a crowd. Michelle Pfeiffer receives some of the film's biggest laughs as the evil station manager bent on getting Tracy out and her daughter (Brittany Snow) in. As Baltimore's answer to Dick Clark, James Marsden, with his Pepsodent smile and patented insincere sincerity, shows an unexpected flair for light comedy.
In addition to Mr. Waters, several participants from the original version show up to varying degrees of effectiveness. Jerry Stiller is a very funny man, but even he can't out-shout his sportcoat. You will have to look quickly for Ricki Lake who pops up unheralded as a talent agent.
With the exception of an overly affected accent, Travolta does fine. For some reason this guy is fated to keep working. He has more lives than a hundred-year-old tabby. There's even an anachronistic nod to Pulp Fiction, presumably thrown in so the younger demographic, lacking a proper historical perspective, will get at least one of the in-jokes.
Hairspray is a standout among this summer's dumper crop of movies. As much as I hate to say it about anything even remotely related to John Waters, this is a perfect film to take the kids to, especially if they've already already been exposed to Divine getting raped by a lobster in Multiple Maniacs.
Scott Marks / http://emulsioncompulsion.com/
Scott Marks regularly deliver reviews on San Diego’s KPBS-Radio. [http://www.kpbs.org/radio/film_club_of_the_air]
"I must admit that even though I see upwards of 200 new releases each year, for all intents and purposes Hollywood abandoned making films for adults somewhere around the time of Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark. (Needless to say, Spielberg and Lucas are neither spoken or welcome here.) With the exception of the 15 or 20 films a year I find praiseworthy, if you’re looking for someone to back up your disappointment and disgust over a current release, I’m your man."
What Is On YouTube Today?
Hairspray- You Can't Stop The Beat *Kid Voice*
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