(2007, 117 min) You can’t stop the beat, indeed. As the title of the closing song suggests, the beat goes on and on in this deliriously entertaining screen adaptation of the Tony Award-winning Broadway hit. From the opening number, a sly, “affectionate” tribute to Baltimore (complete with cameo from John Waters who created the first film that all this is based upon) to the toe-tapping, wanna-get-out-of-your-seat-and-join-the-fun finale, Hairspray is an old-fashioned joyride down memory lane to when Jackie Kennedy was the final word in fashion, big hair was all the rage and social protest could actually make a difference.
This journey all started when cinematic provocateur John Waters made Hairspray in 1988, his most accessible film to date, about Tracy Turnblad, an overweight high school girl (Ricki Lake) who lives to dance. It also had the audacity to star transvestite Divine as a housewife, playing it “straight” as laundry woman and loving wife and mother Edna. In 2002, it was adapted into a stage musical starring one-time drag performer Harvey Fierstein as Edna (who was an absolute knockout on stage). Keeping with the theme, a male performer once again dons Edna’s wigs and dresses, and his appearance here in no small way helps make the film musical Hairspray such a rousing success.
That would be John Travolta, the macho star of the ‘70s who reinvented himself in the ‘90s thanks to Pulp Fiction, and now throws caution, hell, everything but the kitchen sink to the wind to give a performance of such charm as to beguile any and all in his path. This isn’t camp. Just as Divine and Fierstein weren’t camp in the role (Divine in Pink Flamingos is camp; Fierstein in Mrs. Doubtfire is camp; Travolta in Two of a Kind is camp). This is a male actor seriously portraying a comedic woman’s role, and why it’s worked all three times.
Faithfully following the stage musical, minus a song or two and one particularly memorable prison sequence, Hairspray joyously sets the story of being true to one’s self at the time of the birth of the civil rights movement, and here they go hand in hand.
Tracy Turnblad (Nikki Blonsky in a wonderful film debut), a plump high school senior whose sweet disposition is matched only by her love of dancing, anguishes through classes each day with her best friend Penny (Amanda Bynes) waiting to rush home to watch her favorite TV show, “The Corny Collins Show,” a local Baltimore version of “American Bandstand.” It features the nicest kids in town, “nice white kids who like to lead the way, and once a month, (they have) Negro day.” This show’s Frankie and Annette are Linc (Zac Efron) and Amber (Brittany Snow), and like most all the girls, Tracy harbors a crush on Linc.
When one of the regular girls must leave the show (just for nine months), Tracy defies the odds and wins the coveted spot, becoming overnight one of the most popular dancers on the show. This sets her in direct competition with Amber, who doesn’t like the new girl, and an overweight one at that, taking the spotlight away from her. Nor does Amber’s mother (Michelle Pfeiffer as a former beauty queen and now station manager). And to make matters worse, Tracy is now trying to integrate the all-white program. To the establishment, Tracy has to go.
This all leads to more rousing musical numbers, sprightly directed comedy and towering hair-dos. The infectious musical score by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman defies you not to swing and sway to the beat, and director Adam Shankman (whose work on Bringing Down the House and Cheaper by the Dozen 2 gave no clue as to the talent demonstrated here) opens up the play to great effect and his choreography befits the snappy, lively tunes.
You gotta love the cameos: Jerry Stiller (Edna’s husband in the '88 version that’s nicely played by Christopher Walken here), Lake, Waters, Paul Dooley – they’re all having fun, as is the ensemble, highlighted by Queen Latifah as Motormouth Maybelle, the hostess for Negro Day, newcomer Elijah Kelly who brings down the house in “Run and Tell That” and James Marsden, who displays a wicked grin, a hilariously cynical streak and surprisingly good pipes as Corny Collins.
By the time this all ends, and Tracy has found her dream, and Edna takes center stage (as she should), and all the outcasts have had their day, it’ll be hard to say goodbye to these delightful characters. They were right: You can’t stop the beat. And the way they sing and dance and carry on, you would never want them to.
© TLA Entertainment Group
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