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Chicago (January 12, 2003)
Review by Mathew Klickstein
I feel afforded the credence to say very little about "Chicago," as everyone else seems to be talking about it for me. Though, of course, they're all saying the wrong things. My award for "Emperor's New Clothes Syndrome," (which seems to have permeated everyone involved in the film/entertainment industry in years past) goes to... "Chicago" (obviously... why would I talk about another film in this review? What are you, simple?)
My Jesus, after the first ten minutes, I realized it was time to leave the theater. Not that I mind watching Catherine Zeta-Jones sing and dance for ten minutes straight, then watch Renee Zelweger sing and dance for ten minutes straight, then watch Richard Gere sing and dance for ten minutes straight, but I do (mind). Frankly, this film is a brilliant, shining example of just how well Hollywood/Media has tricked even the actors THEMSELVES into believing they're truly better than they actually are. I mean, for chrissakes, I make no hyperbole in saying that the whole movie is based SOLELY on the screen presence of these three actors. The sets and lighting sequences are vaguely reminiscent of a Kelly Osbourne music video, with all cathexis on the one actor/actress involved in the dance routine at that time.
It just grows more and more boring over time, as each and every scene is just one more routine, one more observation of how incredibly jaded and narcissistic these actors are, how well they've fooled themselves to think they can carry each successive scene, which they, as any sane person could tell you, can not do.
Spare yourself the money of seeing "Chicago," and just buy yourself an issue of "Us Magazine" or an old photo album of Gere, Zelweger, or Zeta-Jones, flipping through it with a glass of brandy, while watching "Moulin Rouge," and you'll have the same effect.
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