Image: Artscape
What better time than a Sunday afternoon to receive a dose of satire, sensuality and tasteful lewdness? I had been waiting for months since these tickets were gifted to me for my birthday, and so I entered the auditorium with high expectations. The golden frame around the stage was the first hint of the glamour to come, and when the curtain rose I was pleasantly surprised to see the band prominently featured in the middle of the stage in a giant jury box.
Samantha Peo as Velma and Kiruna-Lind Devar, playing Roxy, sounded like they weren’t entirely warm yet in their opening numbers, All that jazz and Funny honey, respectively. The band occasionally drowned their sound or diction, but their voices only got better and better throughout. Peo sang with a smoky-textured timbre to match Velma’s suave nature, and Devar’s bright tones were perfect for the spritely and ambitious character of Roxy. Their dynamic was hugely entertaining. Both actresses pulled off their character arcs in a way that made the fast-paced drama feel as though it had months’ worth of emotions and events packed into minutes on stage.
Cell block tango, my favourite song of the show, suffered a brief microphone glitch, and the spoken parts seemed slightly rushed. Really taking time to emote can make a big difference. Fitting dialogue into a certain number of musical bars is important, but the audience should never feel like a singer is counting beats until the next entrance. Overall, however, the cast really shone during this number, taking full advantage of the moments they had to make their individual marks.
Jonathan Roxmouth as Billy Flynn stood out with his Sinatra-style singing and cynical charm. Of course, it could be argued that being wreathed in ostrich feathers and dancing women might endear anyone to an audience, but Roxmouth continued to deliver throughout. Billy’s cool, cunning demeanour against Roxy’s eager flame was electric, and his versatile voice was one that any celebrity defence attorney would kill for.
The first vocal notes of Mary Sunshine’s entrance were charming, but the solo A little bit of good was not sung well. ME Marvey seemed to strain for the high notes, which lacked resonance. The character’s introduction was overshadowed by the tension one feels watching a performer visibly and audibly struggle, but there were moments in which a beautiful voice peaked through, and Mary Sunshine later had the chance to deliver a worthwhile surprise to the audience.
Tankiso Mamabolo as Matron Mama Morton had the best vocals. Although her famous number, When you’re good to mamma, was not energetically choreographed, her rich voice carried perfectly and her character became only more endearing as the story went on.
One of the smaller roles which left an unexpected impression on me was Hunyak. Bronwyn Craddock’s portrayal of the Hungarian immigrant was so sincere that I was left in shock when she dropped out of the narrative in a scene that brought the stakes of the story into stark relief. Roxmouth was already cracking another joke before I recovered from it.
The choreography was stunning: understated when it had to be, and rising to crescendos of powerful, unified movements. The circus tricks of Razzle dazzle were especially impressive, creating a whimsical scene that really stole my attention over the singing in the best way possible.
The music was seamless, with singers and instrumentalists always united in tempo and comedic timing. There’s nothing more enjoyable in the theatre to see performers having a great time, and the musicians really sold it, especially when they had the chance to stand for their solos and dance a little. Nick Ford doing some can-can kicks next to his double bass was my personal favourite.
There was hardly a pop of colour for most of the show, but black-on-black costuming and set pieces created a sleek aesthetic that kept the audience firmly locked in the Cook County Jail with its inmates, lest the upbeat music were to take us too far from the setting and subject matter. The lighting provided the occasional splash of pink or purple, but most of the time the silhouettes of prison bars fell over the stage. Form-fitting costumes with lace and sheer fabrics highlighted both the vulnerability and the sultry power of the femme fatales of the cast, as well as the male victims of their lust and wrath.
The entire cast brought new life to each moment. No costume change was needed for an actor to transform from a murdered corpse into a reporter clamouring for quotes and pictures. The split-second changes in acting and dance fit well with the fickle nature of fame, which is explored in the musical along with the seedy underbelly of true crime fascination and publicity.
Director Walter Bobbie stated in his programme note:
This 1975 musical, based on the 1926 play by Maurine Dallas Watkins, now looks like it was ripped from today’s headlines …. Chicago’s plot was shocking in 1926, cynical and satirical in 1975, and today feels like a documentary.
Crime has always been a fascination and will likely continue to be one, as humankind never truly changes. But it seems that, in recent years, the effect of televising courtroom dramas has become a topic of discussion again since the OJ Simpson phenomenon.
In a different format, the plot and themes of Chicago may be too close to the real cases of abuse and corruption that have engulfed television and social media – swallowing the voices of victims, lionising perpetrators and encouraging an ever-hungry media beast to latch onto sensationalism over truth. It seems to grow easier and easier for the worst of our societies to evade justice.
But on a Sunday afternoon, Chicago was an escape for me and for the entire auditorium. This highly anticipated show did not disappoint. The audience laughed and clapped enthusiastically. Some of my neighbours quietly murmured along to the songs, and I was on the edge of my seat, taking in all the sights and sounds and maybe whispering the lyrics now and then, too.