A cacophony of voluptuous movement – a match made in heaven (or thereabouts). Director Michael Hurst O.N.Z.M., choreographer Shona McCullagh M.N.Z.M., and musical director Paul Barrett deliver an outstanding evening of vaudeville laced with cynicism, feminine wiles, and buttocks galore.
Chicago: The Musical’s opening night played to a pulsing crowd of theatregoers who, from the first bang at curtain rise, stayed engaged throughout. An almost immediate death scene swivels us into a sumptuous extravaganza of song, satire, and sexual politics. Each person involved in this show provides a technical mastery that sustains the production’s impeccable rhythm and visual flair.
The movement throughout is a showcase of contorted grace and refined gestural wit. These are hallmarks of McCullagh’s inimitable style at its very best. One especially unforgettable vignette featured a silent tap solo performed by a policeman, pivoting gently around the dramatics of Roxie Hart. It is breathtaking in its accretive intention.
From her first entrance to the final weeping moments, actor, singer, mover, and shaker Nomi Cohen takes full command of her role as Roxie, elevating the performance’s greatness. As Velma Kelly, Lily Bourne unearths layer upon layer of vocal power, singing in exquisite harmony with both Roxie and the ever-wonderful doyenne Jackie Clarke M.N.Z.M. in her role as Mama. Joel Tobeck surprises even himself with his brilliant entrance as Billy Flynn, his presence owning the stage with perfectly timed theatrics, gorgeous silver hair, and gorgeous singing. And Andrew Grainger, as Amos (a.k.a. Andy), downplays his commanding presence with beautiful restraint. What a cast!
Musicals can be daunting, but here, every action and lyric serves the narrative. I cannot help but notice: Roxie appears to be the only woman who is faithless, while others are murderers. What unfolds is a deeper question: how do we perceive women who kill men? Are they slighted? Are they calculating? Or are they something else entirely? Are they survivors?
The emotiveness and confidence of the singers nearly but do not outshine the deliciously flamboyant dance ensemble. Their sexualised costuming by Nic Smillie, and subsequent slick, choreographed routines and cavorting are integral to the show’s exploration of disempowerment, power, desertedness, and manipulation. Of particular note is Hanna Tasker Poland, magnetic in both bodily sensuousness and character edginess – exquisite and unforgettable.
This show is deeply immersive. A showcase. The creative team embraces Chicago’s history, glamour, and moral complexities, transforming them into a riotous, intelligent mockery of justice both in 1920s America and, subtly, here in Aotearoa New Zealand. Tiumalu Noma Sio (Stage Manager), Chris Reddington (Set Designer), and Simeon Hoggan (Lighting Designer) keep the show moving at a perfect pace of timing and cadence. The casually opulent set pieces glide through the action, full of sequins, furniture, sparkles, and surprises – the height of the proscenium loosened in a moment when a circus hoop flings a dancer high in the air. The band plays on from the back of the stage, at every moment and just as suspended.
A pulley hoists a man by his feet, and he is shoved through the air. A set of blow-up dolls dance as much as they are thrown around or heaved through the air – another spatial dismantling. Four men dance around Roxie in macho formations. A grisly hanging scene leaves us breathless – perhaps this woman was the only one not guilty after all, raising a question about what, indeed, the threshold of justice is, morally speaking. I am going again.
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Review by Felicity Molloy