Most musicals, even those that eschew stereotypes of musical theatre, aim to be heart-warming, and demand that their songs be sung and danced in earnest. Chicago, currently presented by St. Michael’s College at Hart House Theatre, offers no such comfort, and is all the better for it. Rather than giving the audience a winsome story about romance-yearning farm girls or life-affirming bohemians (or, for direct comparison, see Chorus Girls, Chicago’s nun-like cousin), Chicago is a risqué portrayal of the deep-reaching tentacles of illusion, corruption, and emotional manipulation. There are no lessons to be learned, nor is there anyone to empathize with, as every character is either evil or simply pathetic. Chicago is about one thing and one thing only: entertainment. By harnessing an ironic, tongue-in-cheek mix of slapstick humour, historical pastiche, and glittering, sensual dance numbers, Chicago itself becomes a timely commentary on how so much that tries passing itself off at the moment as the earnest, serious truth is really just an artful sham.
The highlight of this performance of Chicago lies in its original dance numbers, choreographed by director Shakir Haq. Operating under the shadow of Bob Fosse is no enviable position, especially when you are working with busy students and a budget less than the total amount of money lost under the seats on Broadway in a year, yet Haq’s excellent choreography and lighting makes the production feel richer than it must be. As Billy Flynn, the sleazy lawyer-cum-courtroom puppet-master, played to perfection by Bruce Scavuzzo, says in a dance number: “Give ‘em the old razzle dazzle / Give ‘em an act with lots of flash in it / And the reaction will be passionate / How can they see with sequins in their eyes?” Haq has clearly taken this advice to heart, and keeps the audience continually engaged.
Melanie Mastronardi, playing Velma Kelly, the tough, out-of-luck primo diva of a prohibition-era Chicago vaudeville troupe, carries the biggest burden, dancing and singing in more of the numbers than anyone else. She is extremely talented, and pulls off the feat of singing very well while either dancing with jumps, twists, and somersaults, or being hung upside down. On two occasions she does the splits exactly on cue with the live band. A number of other principals also add to the flair of the dancing, but it is the Jail Birds, the production’s eleven-woman dance troupe, that ensures that the show scintillates. The production program includes a ‘Mature Content Warning’ and while people smoke, drink, and gun people down on a pretty regular basis, it is the costumes and dancing of the Jail Birds that is largely the reason for this warning. They might be decked out in fishnets and tiny skirts, and their routines include elements of striptease, pelvic thrusts, baring their behinds to the audience, and a black-whip that is rubbed suggestively, these aren’t stage floozies but angry and empowered women, inhibition-free maneaters who won’t take no shit from nobody.
Roxie Hart, played with poise by Lauren Goodman, the play’s other principal, sets up the plot by killing her lover. Hart hires Billy Flynn to engineer a celebrity fuelled miscarriage of justice, and begins reciting “Hail Mary full of grace” a heartbeat after shooting a man in cold blood. God can exist, so long as he’s in on the con. Chicago was first written and performed in the 1970s, and its mood of merry cynicism was too ahead of its time to be appreciated. However, the last few decades has carried out the collective simmering away of many of our social inhibitions, and Chicago, as this production and its extremely successful revivals on Broadway and the West End can attest, suits the moral and political zeitgeist perfectly.
In “Class,” one of the final numbers, Velma and her manager (Jaymie Sampa) ask themselves “Whatever happened to fair dealing / And pure ethics / And nice manners? / Why is it everyone now is a pain in the Ass? / Whatever happened to class?” Now, of course, they do this while getting sloshed and making fart jokes. Chicago’s thesis is that there never was any such thing as class, or good-hearted people, or perfect love and justice, or anything so rosy. It’s answer is that what was referred to as “class” and “truth,” was merely conformity, inhibitions, or ignorance. This production has none. As Billy Flynn puts it: “It’s all a circus, kid. A three ring circus. These trials — the whole world — all show business.” And that’s why you give ‘em the old razzle dazzle.
