Chicago Review by Katelyn Keyes

     From the beginning, one thing that is very clear about Chicago is that it knows how to make a

statement. The stage is black, save for the performers lit by spotlights in the center that seem to tease the

audience with their talent in “All That Jazz.” The song creeps along, slower than I would have thought,

but sizzling with the Chicago fire that runs through the veins of this show. Velma (Claire Marshall), who

leads the song, sings it softly but with such control that the power was akin to belting her heart out. What

stuck out as a theme to me of this show was control, a hand on the reins, pulling back just enough to get us

audience members to lean in. 

Another example of this control is in the choreography, by Ann Reinking (and Bob Fosse originally) and re-created for this production by Gregory Butler. The dances accentuate the energy of the show; in “All That Jazz” it was full of small movements like shoulder shrugs, but done with such impeccable synchronicity that it was impressive to watch. There were no lights-out free dance breaks in Chicago, the dancers were showcased off and on through solo songs, but they make their talent clear, as each one is so strong and lithe that the audience is quickly mesmerized by their movements. 

One moment that broke this spell of controlled flame was Marc Christopher’s triumphant belt near the end of “Mister Cellophane” as Amos. He was a standout in this show, though he doesn’t appear much in the first act, akin to the metaphor in his song about being as invisible as cellophane, but when the audience gets to know the character during the second half of the show, they all start rooting for him. His song starts slow and jazzy, as many of the songs do, but as Amos gets more confident, Christopher gets louder and stronger leading up to the climax of the song. He pulls back at the end, per the story, but satiated the audience’s need for something a little more free. His stage time from then on is still limited, especially compared to the two women the story follows, but for being as unnoticeable as he claims to be, Amos had no trouble eliciting laughter from the audience, either in humor from his excellent comedic timing, or in sympathy because of Christopher’s empathetic portrayal. 

As a whole, Chicago captured the essence of the dark side of the roaring twenties; light from the camera flashes and the starlets drawn to it like moths. The talent was there to flash-fry the show in a blazing spectacle, but the cast kept the sparks down and the heat on high with each number a work of art all its own. So come see Chicago at the Orpheum. Murder never looked this good.