I’m afraid my experience of the stage version of Hairspray was not one of my most riveting theatrical forays. Bruce Vilanch as Edna was about as comfortable onstage as I would be in a back woods biker bar.  

So I wasn’t sure what to expect as I sat in the movie theatre, and the camera began to zoom in from a wide shot of Baltimore. As the bass ever so subtly set the beat, upon which layers and layers of Baltimore’s rhythmical morning cacophony were added, I began to be swept away into the world of this musical. With very few exceptions, my inner critic kept pretty quiet throughout the flick as, more than once, my inner musical theatre geek had to be held back from bursting into applause. 

As Tracy Turnblad, Nikki Blonski is honest, charming and overflowing with energy. From the moment she jumps out of bed to wish Good Morning to Baltimore, Ms. Blonski never stops moving as long as there is music playing. 

John Travolta’s performance as Edna Turnblad, though a little inconsistent, eventually won me over. He walked a fine, fine line between commenting through the layers of fat suit, and just wearing it, owning it, and honestly letting Edna unfold before us. Even so, by the end I found myself a little choked up at the sight of Edna dancing like a banshee in a short, tight, sequined mini skirt, displaying lots of guts—both the latex and the inspirational variety.  

For a piece filled with over-the-top characters, energetic production numbers and some pretty “large” societal issues, I found the movie to be surprisingly grounded and sincere and, in it’s larger-than-life way, making an admirable attempt at exploring some universal truths and shining an uncomfortable spotlight on issues of social injustice and prejudice. 

There is a scene where the black kids and the white kids are all dancing on the Corney Collins show. The two factions are clearly divided by a very prominent rope. Images of segregation like that or like this  are still jarring to me. Of course, there are still subtle (and not so subtle) ropes dividing us all in so many ways, which is why, for all its fluff, Hairspray also has the potential to make us think about these social barriers, and hopefully encourage us to take some action to counter them. Donate to the NAACP. Think twice about making snap judgments about the fat middle age housewife who cuts you off in traffic.  

Edna’s paralyzing fear of going out of the apartment is a universal one as well. The world hasn’t seen her as a size 64, and she wants them to remember her as a size 6. We all have size-64 fears about something, and it is perhaps these cosmic connections to the characters who inhabit the world of Hairspray which account for its popularity in all of its various media.  

Given the enjoyable afternoon I spent at the Hollywood version of the Broadway version of the Independent Film version of this story, I will likely revisit Hairspray in one or more of these incarnations. Something about the motion of the ocean and the sun in the sky. I just can’t stop the beat!

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