HAIRSPRAY: THE SURPRISE OF THE SUMMER AND THE BEST MOVIE MUSICAL IN YEARS

Since the headline gives away that I’m about to present an enthusiastic rave, let’s stipulate a few things up front:

1. When I sat down at the AMC Kips Bay for an All Media screening of Hairspray, my expectations were pretty non-existent. I wasn’t automatically thinking the worst, but considering the overhyped recent history of the Broadway-to-Hollywood movie musical, I wasn’t thinking that a piece of relative fluff like Hairspray would be anything great.

2. And why should I? Responsibility for bringing this vehicle from stage to screen was being handed over to Adam Shankman, the man responsible for such cinematic masterpieces as The Wedding Planner, Bringing Down the House, and Cheaper By the Dozen 2. Oh, and lest we forget, he also gave us the Vin Diesel vehicle (blech) The Pacifier. (I don’t care if the script came from two members of “The State” and Reno 911; it’s still a rip off of Mr. Nanny combined with a touch of Suburban Commando, and we don’t need really need reminders of bad Hulk Hogan movies, do we?) I’ll admit, I wasn’t aware of Shankman’s extensive career as a choreographer and involved in musical theater, but his film resume certainly wasn’t giving me tons of hope.

3. I hadn’t actually seen the Broadway show. The only song I was familiar with at all was “You Can’t Stop the Beat”; it plays on all the commercials and was the number performed at the Tonys the year the show won. I had no idea that the Broadway show was such a great reimagination of John Waters’ original movie; arguably an even better piece of storytelling, even if not as subversive. (I finally did go see the Broadway show after seeing the movie. The show is great; sadly, the current cast is not thanks to too much stunt casting, including none other than Jerry Mathers — that’s right, The Beav! — as Wilbur Turnblad. Wow! Can The Beav really neither act nor sing!)

4. Speaking of Waters’ original 1988 film, I had just watched it about a week previously after not having seen it in the nearly 20 years since it was released. While I’m stipulating, I have to admit that I’ve never been a huge John Waters fan; at least not as a filmmaker. I don’t revel in his sort of kitsch as much as many people. Hairspray was fine as were Cry-Baby and Serial Mom. I didn’t love Cecil B. Demented and I never actually saw A Dirty Shame. I understand the appeal of his earlier classics from a low-budget indie and glorify-the-freaks standpoint, but I always found that the utter amateurism of his productions and company of actors just took away from the films. Granted, this was less of a problem in the no-budget DIY of Polyester and Pink Flamingos, but with Hairspray, it’s just downright distracting. However, the subject matter and basic storyline are great and proved to be good fodder for a full-on musical. Still, coming straight from the Waters film, I certainly wasn’t expecting a ton from this new film adaptation.

So with all that in mind, what happened as I watched the film? Well, about 30 seconds into “Good Morning Baltimore” I started to smile. By the end of the number, the smile was becoming a grin. And for the next 100-odd minutes it didn’t let up.

Let me take a brief step back from my enthusiasm: Hairspray is not a perfect movie. I do not claim that it is anywhere near the second coming of Singin’ in the Rain. However, I will wholeheartedly argue that it is the best standard/mainstream movie musical of the still young 21st Century. It may not be as cinematically interesting or daring as Moulin Rouge or Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but compared to the dreck of Broadway adaptations since 2001 — The Producers, Rent and Phantom of the Opera were all particularly awful — as well as the overhyped and overpraised mediocrities that were Dreamgirls and Chicago, Hairspray tops them all, and don’t be surprised if it shows up on my year end top 10 list.

I’m also not going to start calling Shankman a directing genius. I do believe, however, that sometimes there are pieces of material which have a perfect match in certain filmmakers, and Hairspray is a shining example. Shankman does everything right that both Rob Marshall and Bill Condon — with Chicago and Dreamgirls, respectively — did wrong through over-directing. He managed to expand and build upon the sequences from the stage show in a way that could only occur on film but without ever detracting from the number or simply saying, Look at me move; I’m a camera; I can change perspective and cut away quickly. (Marshall’s biggest problem in his film directing debut is one that many theater directors make: thinking that the camera constantly needs to be in motion, gliding and swirling around the actors. Especially in dance sequences, this is almost always overdone.)

At the same time as he was reinventing certain sequences (and creating new ones for the new songs and slightly reconstructed story in this film version), he was also stealing liberally directly from the stage show. Elements like when The Dynamites come to life on the billboard during “Welcome to the ’60s” or even Tracy waking-up in bed at the top of the show and film are wondrously recreated. Another very clever sequence on stage — “I Can Hear the Bells,” in which Tracy literally bumps into Link and then dreams of their future together — is adapted brilliantly for the screen. And “(You’re) Timeless to Me,” the love song and dance between Edna (John Travolta) and Wilbur Turnblad (Christopher Walken), while a bit silly and slightly long, is transformed from a plain, front-of-stage duet to a grand Astaire-Rogers like dancing dream sequence.

While Shankman deserves a lion’s share of the credit, so too do screenwriter Leslie Dixon and composer Marc Shaiman, who also wrote all the lyrcs with Scott Wittman. This film of Hairspray is not simply a transfer from stage to screen. Major plot points are changed — especially in the run-up to the end — and several songs from the stage version were dropped while other new songs have been added. And dare I say it, but all the changes — both in plot and music — are for the better, creating an even more energetic and much tighter production. (The stage show runs about 30 minutes longer not including an intermission.)

In case you haven’t been paying attention elsewhere and are wondering, “Yeah, but what’s it all about?”, Hairspray takes place in Baltimore in 1962 and focuses on Tracy Turnblad (Nikki Blonsky) who wants nothing more in her teenage existence than to be a dancer on the “Corny Collins Show.” Tracy is a tad overweight, but she doesn’t let that get her down. Her spirit and determination are contagious; so much so that the teen heartthrob of the “Corny Collins Show,” Link Larkin (Zac Efron), falls for her.

Like Waters’ film, this Hairspray is much more than just a simple teen comedy. Tracy is the kind of girl who, in some cases, is so naive as to the ways of the world that things in 1962 Baltimore like segregation make absolutely no sense to her. “I wish every day was Negro Day,” Tracy exclaims in detention, referring to the single day during the month that black teenagers are allowed to appear on the Corny Collins Show. Interracial dancing is not something allowed on TV. Tracy and her friend Penny Pingleton (Amanda Bynes) may start the story as misfit outcasts, but by the end their revolutionaries who start a movement.

Shankman doesn’t exactly handle this element of the story with subtlety, but why should he? This is a big, loud musical. Sure, “I Know Where I’ve Been” (one of the new songs for the film) may be a bit too solemn as it accompanies a candlelit protest march, but Queen Latifah’s performance and the rousing orchestrations and gospel chorus-like background are enough to overcome what might otherwise be considered a misstep in terms of tone and momentum. And besides, I’d rather have a subject hit me on the head with a moving musical number rather than simple pontificating.

One area in which Hairspray truly excels is its choreography. Shankman acted as his own choreographer, and far more than in any of the other recent musicals, the choreography and staging of all the musical numbers truly helps propel the movie along. Big dance numbers like “Ladies Choice,” “Run and Tell That” and the climactic “You Can’t Stop the Beat,” are both marvelously choreographed and, maybe more importantly, extremely well-shot, allowing the dancing to lead the camera as opposed to the other way around.

If there is a mixed bag element to Hairspray it’s the performances. Overall, the filmmakers deserve a lot of credit for the casting. Yes, plenty of people are currently making fun of Travolta and he’s receiving a ton of criticism, most of which is actually undeserved. With one exception, Travolta acquits himself admirably both in regular scenes and musical numbers. However, the fat suit is distracting and he creates this weird twang which is necessary. Might it have been more fun to see Harvey Fierstein recreate his Broadway performance. Definitely. But is Travolta awful? No.

Besides, too much focus is placed on Travolta anyway. This movie belongs to Blonsky who brings Tracy to life in near-perfect fashion. Blonsky’s singing and dancing are virtually flawless, and she radiates energy and enthusiasm. Occasionally, her straight acting in non-musical numbers feels a bit theatrical and stagy — a little too big for the scene — but its a minor quibble. Will Hairspray turn Blonsky into a star? That might be overdoing it. But she’s certainly the star of this movie.

The supporting cast is equally strong. Efron (who is already a tween star thanks to the surprise Disney Channel blockbuster High School Musical) is phenomenal as Link, and whenever Bynes is onscreen, its impossible to take your eyes off her. She plays a mostly comic role that could easily devolve into simple slapstick, but she never goes too far over the top. James Marsden is great as TV host Collins, and Elijah Kelly displays a show-stopping voice and slick dance moves as Seaweed. Brittany Snow spent three years playing Meg Pryor, another girl who just wanted to dance on an early ’60s Baltimore TV show in the laet, great NBC series American Dreams, but here she gets to be the spoiled blonde bitch, and she has a great time doing it.

As for the other non-Travolta adults, it’s nice to see Michelle Pfeiffer on screen again, even if the last musical she did was Grease 2. Like Travolta, she’s fine as Velma Von Tussle, the producer of the “Corny Collins Show” and Tracy’s primary foil. Her main musical number, “(The Legend of) Miss Baltimore Crabs,” is one of the weaker numbers in the film, mostly because of her performance. Again, it’s not bad per se, but it’s slightly overplayed with her chewing a bit of the scenery with her singing.

Both Walken as Tracy’s father and Latifah as Seaweed’s mother and “Negro Day” DJ Motormouth Maybelle are excellent. It’s quite fun seeing Walken play the uninterested eunuch to Pfeiffer’s flirtations while getting all hot and bothered over Travolta in his fat suit. Latifah, meanwhile, gives a stronger performance here than she did in Chicago, and she deserves similar, if not greater, critical attention.

I really can’t say enough about Hairspray, although I’m sure I’ve said plenty. During a summer where the vast majority of Hollywood releases have been even worse than could have been expected, Hairspray is like a refreshing, toe-tapping, giggle-inducing breath of fresh air. I can’t wait to see it again.