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Swept
along by an Oscar-studded landslide of renewed interest, Chicago
rolls into the Liverpool Empire -and immediately smashes all records
for audience sales.
That
fact alone represents all you need to know about the appeal, calibre
and value-for-money of the production, but if you aren't yet convinced
by this popular lung buster then read on.
A tale
of murder, corruption, fame, greed and high-kicking prison chicks
- shaming the harridans of Prisoner Cell Block H into reaching for
the Oil of Ulay - centres upon the headline grabbing antics of one
Roxie Hart (Emma Clifford).
Suddenly
the toast of Chicago after shooting her lover dead, this low-to-no
talent showgirl walks all over fellow killer and earlier press darling
Velma Kelly (Lisa Donmall): resulting in a clash of egos and a burst
of songs from behind prison walls.
There,
the murderesses plot to contrive their ultimate performance and
plea of leniency from the witness stand, aided by hot shot lawyer
Billy Flynn (Marti Pellow). Formerly the weakest casting opportunity
within a triangle of immoral (and therefore hugely juicy) all-singing
lynchpins, Pellow's voice remains clear and strong; his complexion
and pin-up good looks the stuff of some diabolical Faustian pact.
Once
it was the ladies that stole the show, here it's the bestubbled
Scotsman. The set is stripped bare to the most minimal of essentials,
the orchestra themselves woven amidst the characters on stage for
a seedy, back-room ambience. Part Bugsy Malone with a pinch of Anne
Summers thanks to a simmering hormonal soup, this is an inviting,
adults-only gym session in which 'the rope' holds an altogether
more sinister meaning.
An
extra matinee has been added to the Liverpool run, but this too
shows signs of being hovered clean. Challenging Paul McCartney for
the honour of most-sought-after-ticket-in-town, if you desire a
pinch of spice turn the heat up this dingy Springtime - go - fetch
- enjoy聟
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