Choreographer Rob Marshall’s frequently dazzling, often amazing, and occasionally awkward film version of the Broadway hit musical Chicago made me tap my toes in spite of myself. Watching Catherine Zeta-Jones tear up the screen in the opening number “All That Jazz” not only gave me hope that this would be a great movie, but goddamn if I didn’t want to get up and shimmy like sister Cate. Nonetheless, I remained comfortably seated throughout the film, which—despite passages of brilliance thrilling in their visceral intensity—itself takes a backseat to Bob Fosse’s showbiz masterpiece All That Jazz—the one-of-a-kind film that Chicago aims to top.
