by Chris Marshall:
2002 marked the first time since Oliver![1],
a full 34 years earlier, that a musical won Best Picture. Because I’m not much
of a musical aficionado, I was perfectly fine with that long gap. And Chicago, while competently executed,
didn’t blow me away, certainly not enough to make me pine for the golden era of
the genre.
For one thing, it’s one of the least plot-driven musicals to
have won the top prize. Not counting the ending credits, the film only lasts an
hour and 47 minutes, which is already short by Best Picture standards[2].
Take away the song and dance performances that were basically stand-alone
vignettes—not a negligible portion—and you’re left with a very small amount of
time that’s devoted to story.
I’m not saying that the songs in musicals should always or
necessarily exist to further the plot. That’s not the case. But in this
situation, I didn’t like the songs enough to justify taking me away from the
film for so long. It’s not that they were bad or that I actively disliked them.
It’s just that they seemed forgettable, not in the same class as the musical
numbers in The Sound of Music or even
West Side Story.
