Review: Hairspray (2007)

Hairspray
reviewed by Samuel Osborn

Director: Adam Shankman
Screenplay: Leslie Dixon
Cast: Nikki Blonsky, John Travolta, Queen Latifah
MPAA Classification: PG

Infectious and relentless, Adam Shankman's Hairspray is an explosion
of pixie dust and pastel frosting. It barrels along on the propulsion
of bright smiles and swinging hips, inviting unbelievable fun for
those willing to keep up with its cha-cha-cha pace and offering
tolerability for those who are otherwise skeptical. Count me as one of
the skeptical. I'm only slowly growing warmer to the musical theatre
scene, and growing ever more frosty towards musicals adapted and re-
adapted for film. But Hairspray's optimism is contagious and its cast
as loveable as a pink teddy bear won at the carnival. Bring a smile to
this one. It's required.

Newcomer Nikki Blonsky fills the adorably plus-sized lead, Tracy
Turnblood, bellowing her love for hometown Baltimore and the after-
school television special, "The Corny Collins Show." She's an
honorable outcast in high school, friends only with the pig-tailed
Penny Pingleton (Amanda Bynes) and swooning over the popular dance
king Link Larkon (Zak Efron). More than anything she longs for a
dancing role as one of the class-cutting teenagers under Corny (James
Marsden). Luckily a surprise position opens up and Tracy, without the
permission of her doubly plus-sized mother Edna (John Travolta),
attends the audition. The icy station manager Velma Von Tussle
(Michelle Pfeifer), however, mocks Tracy's physique, modeling her
exemplary daughter, Amber Von Tussle (Brittany Snow), as the superior
beauty. So Tracy turns to the black kids of her high school for help.
She admires their syrupy-sweet rhythm and blues, tracing their steps
and impressing Corny himself to earn her a spot on the show. Tracy's
triumphant introduction and blue-ribbon smile win her a fanbase to
rival that of the phenom Amber. And paired with the magnetism of Link
away from Amber and into the wanting arms of Tracy, the competition
for the upcoming beauty pageant is fierce.

Before seeing the film I asked a friend who had seen a recent stage
version of the show what I should expect. She said that an apt story
outline for Hairspray would read: "Happy happy happy happy happy, half-
baked racial strife, happy, happy, happy, happy." For better or worse,
she was right. There's a message of peace and racial integration in
Hairspray, but it's between the cracks of smiles and the space between
your dance partner. It's obligatory but proud, doused in good music to
lessen the hurt of what might have been an actual emotion of sadness.
This is fine, I suppose, since the film's big-huge heart doesn't have
the time to slow down, beating at a pace to sprint to.

The music is an obvious draw. Choreographed by Director Adam Shankman,
the singing and dancing numbers are held together by a surprising,
impressive cast. John Travolta trades in the tight denim and leather
jackets of his Grease and Saturday Night Fever days to don the rolls
of cellulite in putting out his best performance in years as Tracy's
mother Edna. There are few moments sweeter than watching Christopher
Walken as Tracy's father attempt to win back his heartbroken John
Travolta. At one point, in a flurry of passion, Walken and Travolta
slip into sombreros and a night dress to mambo beneath the Baltimore
skyline. Michelle Pfeifer throws a deadly imitation of Cruella DeVille
as Velma Von Tussle and Brittany Snow scowls beautifully as her
daughter Amber, both wielding spears of veritable hatred towards Nikki
Blonsky as Tracy. Nikki is a force of new pizzazz for the film. And
whether or not this elite turn as Tracy Turnblood translates to other
roles, she's put up something memorable here.

Hairspray will delight those who are trained in the art of smiling.
Those who laugh large and smile easily will find a heaven in their
multiplex. No Negative Nancies allowed. It's a full blast of hairspray
to the heart. Just watch out. Because if you can't keep up, you'll get
hairspray in your eyes.
Samuel Osborn