Hairspray-- Rip, Roaring Fun

Hairspray is a breezy, broad rendition of the 1988 classic by John Waters and the Tony-nominated Broadway production. Set in 1962 Baltimore, the musical production is the story of a pleasantly plump high schooler, Tracey Turnblad, who longs for a spot on the cheesily-named Corny Collins Show. Turnblad's insecurities about her weight and her subsequent place in her high school class are front and center along with the struggle of a group of gifted African American singers and dancers relegated to performing on Negro Day one day a week. The spirited musical production pits an overweight teenager and her overweight mother against a matriarch and her pampered daughter and an African American musical group against the racist society of the 1960s. Most of the fun in watching director Adam Shankman's adaptation is seeing how Tracey Turnblad and the African American group of musicians sing and dance their way to form an alliance that helps them overcome low self-esteem, prejudice, and racism to reach their potential as performers.

Tracey is smitten by one of the Corny Collins Show's leading young men, Link Larkin, who is the object of Amber von Tussle's affections. Amber (Brittany Snow) is the beautiful daughter of Velma von Tussle, an overheated baracuda of a mother, played to campy-effectiveness by Michelle Pfeiffer. Amber is everything that Tracey is not. She is blond and thin--the picture of 1960s, and for that matter, 2007-perfection. Newcomer Nikki Blonsky gives Tracey an oversized perkiness and ever-widening smile that make us cheer her every move and groove. At the last moment of her audition, Tracey is selected to join the chorus of dancers on the Corny Collins Show. Tracey's addition to the chorus prompts Velma to scheme to prevent Link and Tracey from dancing together and becoming an item. And in a better-than-average subplot, Tracey's friend, Penny Pingleton (Amanda Binds) falls for Seaweed, a member of the African American musical group, much to the chagrin of her mother.

Queen Latifah portrays Motormouth Maybelle, the leader of the African American singers restricted to performing one day of the week. Despite her natural energy, it is somewhat disappointing that the charismatic actress wasn't given a little more to do in the film. Her performance is competent, but the script by Leslie Dixon fails to provide her with a single defining moment in the film.

Pfeiffer is masterful. She dresses in a variety of fancy apparel and get-ups and takes command of her scenes, looking sullen and sultry all at once. Embodying venom and villainy, Pfeiffer should have had at least one musical number that would have allowed her to put all that pent-up angst into memorable words and music.

But John Travolta's cross-dressing turn as Edna Turnblad will be what audiences are most likely to remember. Casting Travolta in the famous role previously played by the late Divine was something of a risk for Shankman and for the actor himself. Undergoing five hours of make-up each day paid off for Travolta, for he is a comedic delight here. In what may be deemed a career-saving performance, Travolta's Turnblad portrays an overly protective mother who is a sight with loads of emotion. She is the picture of matronly devotion, and yet we know there is untapped potential and something that will surely be unleashed by the film's end. In full-throttle Travolta's Turnblad leaps past her husband, played by the always-interesting Christopher Walken, dances, jumps, and gyrates in sheer delight of her freedom to look the way she wants in front of whoever she wants.

Aided by several carefully choreographed dance routines, Hairspray evolves into a celebration of transformation and liberation for Tracey and the African Americans she befriends. Hairspray may be a story about an overweight white teenager's pursuit of justice and love for herself and her African American soulmates, but the film's music, heart, and energy are enough sources of liberation and transformation for an America that may have lost the meaning of both.

Grade: B+

Yippee--Ky--Yehh! Live Free or Die Hard

Bruce Willis returns as detective John McClain in this briskly-paced and action-packed fourth installment in the popular Die Hard series. In Live Free or Die Hard McClain must protect the life of a young computer hacker Matthew Farrell, enthusiastically portrayed by Justin Long. (The clever bit of casting is undoubtedly related to Long's appearances on current computer commercials.) Farrell is the last member of a group of hackers on the hit list of a former homeland security systems expert, who was jilted by the U.S. administration and now wants to show the U.S. government and the world how possible it is to hack into government computer systems and dismantle the country's financial, utility, and transportation systems.

Some twenty years since the previous film in the series, McClain is physically older, worn, and bald--traits that Willis wears well. One could make the case that these are not exactly inappropriate characteristics given the toughness McClain must demonstrate while risking life and limb to save Farrell from hit men hired by the former homeland security guru.

The disgruntled guru turns out to be one of the series' most menancing villains, and he is portrayed by a surprisingly effective Timothy Olyphant. Dressed in black shirts and using piercing stares to look ice-cold, Olyphant's performance is second only to Alan Rickman's memorable villainous turn in the first film. Cast against type, Olyphant exudes the smooth calculation and intellect that one imagines would be needed to outhack the greatest hackers in the world in a not-altogether-impossible plot to derail financial, utility, and transportation systems in the U.S. (Remember the U.S. only received D and Cs, respectively, in homeland security grades, and we have got to believe these disappointing marks were in the minds of the filmmakers.)

Several of the film's action sequences are jaw-droppingly spectacular. In one impressive bit, a hard hitting and kicking yet sexy Maggie G and Willis fight one another in and out of an automobile that literally hangs by damaged wires in a long elevator shaft. In another well-directed scene, Olyphant arranges for one of his own computer hackers to tap into a system to misdirect traffic in a D.C. tunnel in an effort to kill McClain and Farrell, who are driving in the opposite direction of all other traffic. The result sends several cars flying, twisting, and crashing toward McClain and Farrell, who are at the same time fleeing from hit men flying in a helicopter just above the tunnel. The choreography and timing of this and other action sequences are simply splendid.

The film comes just in the nick of time. Knee-deep into the summer's movie schedule, much of the fare has been disappointing and drab. But here Les Wisemnan, the film's director, has served up a nicely conceived action yarn with unexpected intelligence and relevance in the post 9-11 world in which we find ourselves. Live Free or Die Hard is more than a movie for die-hard Republicans and hawks undeterred in their commitment to homeland security and an unpopular war; it is first-rate pop entertainment that Americans of all stripes could simply die for. Yippe--ky--yehh!!

Grade: B+