Sticky Business

Here's a review of the "Hairspray" movie that I wrote for the paper. Unfortunately, I blew the deadline by 2 days, and it never went to print. Stoners rarely prosper.

Cultists beware: the new movie "Hairspray" may share its plot and title with a 1988 John Waters' film, but in tone and presentation, it more closely resembles the bubbly lovechild of "West Side Story" and "Love, Actually." For my money, that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Twenty years ago, the original "Hairspray" introduced the world to Tracy Turnblad, an overweight teenager who fights to integrate a local dance show in 1960s Baltimore. What distinguished that film's straightforward storyline was its offbeat cast, including then-unknown Ricki Lake as Tracy and drag legend Divine as Tracy's mother, Edna. The actors made as much of a statement as any line in the script.

In 2002, "Hairspray" became a Broadway musical and smoothed its source's deliberately rough edges. The musical's creators defanged Waters' biting humor to make the show accessible to the matinee crowds that frequent Times Square (a.k.a. Manhattan Disneyland). Their efforts paid off: "Hairspray" won eight Tony Awards, including Best Musical, and continues a run that so far has grossed more than $200 million.

Now, director/choregrapher Adam Shankman has brought Broadway's "Hairspray" to the big screen, and he's done his part to further mollify Waters' vision. This "Hairspray" is sunny in spite of its content, and it leaves you with the increasingly uncommon feeling that everything might be ok.

Shankman's film owes as much to Waters as it does to Jack O'Brien, the Broadway director who mounted "Hairspray" with the dynamism of a lightening storm. Shankman's "Hairspray" pays more than a subtle homage to O'Brien's staging, most encouragingly during the big production number "Welcome to the 60s." Because of this, "Hairspray" is easily the most watchable movie musical to be released since "Moulin Rouge" rekindled the craze six years ago.

A big part of the new movie's success is its cast. Much has been made of John Travolta's muumuu-sized performance as Edna, the role originated by Divine on film and Tony-winner Harvey Fierstein on stage. Travolta's Edna, whose Baltimore accent recalls an effete Ed Sullivan, is a lot of heart surrounded by a lot of woman. There is nothing masculine about his performance, and that's all to the benefit of his estimable cast mates. The only point at which Edna's authenticity is called into question is when she and her husband, Wilbur (played with understated compassion by Christopher Walken), sing the hokey duet "Timeless to Me." The song demonstrates the couple's latent passion for each other and should logically conclude with a kiss. But in this "Hairspray," we get little more than an affectionate nuzzle.

Travolta's most affecting scenes are played opposite the Tracy of newcomer Nikki Blonsky. In addition to possessing a pristine pop belt that overpowers her renowned costars, Blonsky conveys a youthfulness that is not detrimentally precocious (as was Ricki Lake) or raunchy (as has become the standard for Tracys on stage). Blonsky stuffs her Tracy with self-assured humility, making it easy to believe that she is the daughter of Travolta and Walken's endearing caricatures.

The supporting cast, for the most part, does a fine job of inhabiting the film's musical universe. Queen Latifa (as Motormouth Maybelle, host of the dance show's monthly Negro Day) proves, yet again, that she is a rare creative force in our time. Her delivery of the civil rights anthem "I Know Where I've Been" overflows with a hope recognizable to those who've dwelled in the depths of destitution. It also provides the film with a moral spine that compensates for frequent lapses into slapstick pandering.

As Tracy and Edna's nemeses, Velma and Amber von Tussle, Michelle Pfeiffer and Britany Snow look and act better than they sing. Nevertheless, they get the job done. The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of Zach Effron, the "High School Musical" star who plays high school student Link, Tracy's object of desire. Effron's stiff physicality and Timberlake-thin vocals render him an awkward anachronism. Unsurprisingly, his role has been considerably pared down for the film.

Despite the loss of several songs and moments of unnecessary plot restructuring, "Hairspray" manages to sustain a sharp narrative flow from the opening number, "Good Morning, Baltimore," to the infectious finale, "You Can't Stop the Beat." That Shankman was able convincingly build a musical world on film is as much a credit to his skill as it is to the pastiche score by Marc Shaiman ("Southpark: Bigger, Longer, Uncut") and Scott Wittman. Following the identity crisis that was the "Dreamgirls" movie, "Hairspray"--which deals with similar themes, albeit in a more lighthearted manner--is a welcome reminder that the worlds of movies and musicals needn't be mutually exclusive.

Moving On

Five years. That's long from this perspective, but with each day to come, the period will seem shorter and its impact clearer. Hard to tell the good from the bad at this point. Corrective measures are in order, to be sure. But some paths require deeper exploration. The goal is contentment and peace. Next step: keeping my eyes on the road and taking in the scenery at the same time, with the same committment.

Austin has been good to me. I learned that when I saw all my material possessions strewn across my living room floor last week. Boston awaits, homebase in every sense of the word.