Chicago

I take back everything I ever said about Richard Gere. It wasn't that he was a bad actor, as such - I could just about stomach him in Pretty Woman - but a few years ago I suddenly developed a complex that meant I physically couldn't watch him on any screen, large or small. Perhaps it was the incessant amount of column space given over to him in the showbiz pages in my mother's magazines, or his ability to do only two clear emotions - random panic or self-satisfied rich white American - the smugness practically dripped off him. Or perhaps it was a scene on Paul McKenna's show in which he hypnotised a young woman into believing that he was the unflappable Richard. In any case, I once rented a copy of Things to do in Denver when you're Dead - only to find when I'd got it home that they'd mixed the tapes up and given me Primal Fear. That one didn't even touch my VCR.

But in "Chicago", he convinces. Actually, he *more* than convinces, and it was enough to banish any sense of associated nausea from my head forever. He lit up the screen, displaying vocal talents I didn't know he had, hamming up smooth-talking lawyer Billy Flynn for all the part was worth - and he gets a tap solo. I was suitably mesmerised, and he made the two-hour feature run a lot faster.

Not quite in the same league as Gere, but nonetheless very good indeed, was Catherine Zeta Jones as the vampish Velma Kelly. Convicted of a double homicide, Velma is strong, streetsmart and sexy, no doubt causing stirrings in men's loins in every nightclub in the city. Behind bars she is an authoritarian, unpleasant character who is unpleasant to everyone she considers herself above but who has, you feel, some justification for her crimes.

The only real disappointment was Renee Zellweger, who, with exquisitely curled blonde hair, resembles an adult version of Blousey Brown from Alan Parker's film of Bugsy Malone. Zellweger's acting was as good as ever, and her courtroom scenes were impeccable, as was her transformation from sassy wimp to strong, assertive authority figure. But she can't sing. Don't get me wrong, she can carry a tune well enough, but the contorted dance sequences were lacking a certain panache and I really don't think that she has the voice or the stage presence to carry off a character like Roxie Hart with the necessary vigour. The various solo spots were cleverly, if simply staged, but somehow it wasn't enough: whenever she had someone to feed off and dance with Zellweger was in her element, but whenever she appeared alone she just wound up looking uncomfortable.

The film's use of constant jump-cutting between the real world and the exotic nightclubs in which many songs are 'staged' is a little disconcerting at first, and it's fair to say that things don't really pick up until the dazzling 'Cell Block Tango', in which the other murderesses on death row describe the circumstances that brought them there. After this the story takes off and rarely lets up, and despite the fact that this was, and remains very much a stage musical, the translation to celluloid works surprisingly well. We're constantly reminded of the sleazy, sexual underbelly with which jazz had become associated (and, to an extent, had sprung from), yet this never gets in the way of things: the narrative remains focussed throughout and the (slightly predictable) ending packs a satisfying punch.

The songs themselves are average: my mother and I were both humming 'All That Jazz' on the way home but we also had to concede that neither of us could remember any of the other tunes. Yet while Chicago is first and foremost a musical, it is also an extremely clever satire on the nature of fame and how quickly the press and public can find a new target for adoration or abuse: it may have had its debut in 1975, but the parallels with Pop Idol or Fame Academy do not go unnoticed. Full of memorable moments such as a press conference using marionettes and ventriloquist's dummies, and a wonderful supporting turn from Queen Latifah, the film carries a genuine message, but has enough cynicism and brashness to avoid becoming preachy - you're still watching a musical, and you're never allowed to forget it. Worth a look, if you like that sort of thing - and it was enough to make me realise that Richard Gere really is quite talented. Although I think it may be a while before I get round to renting American Gigolo.

(Thursday, 30th January 2003)