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What has happened to the musical genre? We used to
get peppy children singing and dancing on mountains, or women trying to
wash men out of their hair. Now it’s all about sex, murder, and
madness. Achieving adulthood is a plus for this somewhat dubious genre, but
it doesn’t solve all the problems. Storyline still takes a back seat
to the music, and characters remain superficial. Dreamgirls is a case in point. Diana
Ross and the Supremes, one of the best and most successful singing groups
of the ’60s, is the basis for this fictional story of the rise of a
female trio from Detroit. All of the expected negative elements, from
backstabbing to jealousy, are included, but each conflict seems programmed
to appear at a designated moment. Nothing flows naturally, as life does.
The songs should have made the film bearable, but they pale next to the
classics of Motown. The buzz is for Dreamgirls
to win the Best Picture Oscar. I hope that
doesn’t happen. For all its faults, though, Dreamgirls is still superior to the
dreadful Rent (2005),
a feeble attempt at a ’90s bohemian version of Hair. Whoever told the late Jonathan Larson he could write music
should be strapped down and forced to listen to Britney Spears records
until his ears bleed. The cast just warbles out what sounds like random
notes in search of an actual song. Did the filmmakers deliberately search
for the two blandest and least charismatic actors for the lead roles? The Phantom of the Opera (2004) is not quite as annoying as one might expect, although the
classic story of a madman terrorizing a Paris opera house is lost in the
inconsistent score. Some of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s songs are good,
particularly the title tune, but others are conversations sung rather than
spoken. Do they really qualify as songs? Are they actually entertaining?
Brian De Palma’s rock-music version, Phantom
of the Paradise (1974), is much better. The
one saving grace in my week of musical torture was Chicago (2002), adapted from the Bob
Fosse stage production. Unfortunately, Fosse didn’t live to direct
the film version, but director Rob Marshall does a pitch-perfect imitation
of the master. The music, by Fred Ebb and John Kander, puts that of most
other musicals to shame, and the musical numbers are cleverly integrated
into this comedy/drama about a would-be entertainer who goes on trial for
murdering her lover. Chicago is the only recent Broadway adaptation to succeed on all
levels.
New on DVD this Tuesday (Jan. 16): The Gridiron Gang and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning.
This article appears in Jan 4-10, 2007.
