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REVIEW: Chicago

Pamela Anderson, Mr. Cellophane, and all that jazz...


What do Cinco de Mayo, Baywatch, and a Broadway production of Chicago have in common? Admittedly, very little. But this seemingly catastrophic mélange gave way to a surprisingly pleasant evening that can only be described as both absurd and delightful.



A longtime superfan of red bathing suited, buxom beauty Pamela Anderson, I jumped—or, perhaps more appropriately, slow-mo ran at the opportunity to see her in the flesh when I learned she would be starring as Roxie Hart in Chicago for an eight week run at the Ambassador Theater on Broadway.


Only once tickets were purchased and reservations at Cantina Rooftop were secured did it occur to me how disinterested I was in actually attending the show.


A mainstay on Broadway for over 25 years, Chicago is a musical found almost exclusively appealing to tourists and is virtually ignored by locals. Strangely enough, though I knew every word to the soundtrack as well as the names of each main character, I am hesitant to say that I had ever seen a production of the show, be it on Broadway or on the silver screen, from beginning to end. To put in plainly, some might call Chicago stale.


But, two strong margaritas deep and a glass of overpriced drugstore red wine in my hand, I found myself enchanted by a show that has not updated its choreography since Bob Fosse left his mark on it in 1975. The cheeky casting of Pamela Anderson as headline-stealing, trouser-dropping, turning fervor-to-fame murderess Roxie Hart was a thoroughly enjoyable shake-up to a musical that’s been on the Great White Way since before the iPod came to market.


Written with contribution from Phoebe

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