For most Princeton students, coming to New York to see a show on Broadway is a special treat. Of course, one's excitement on the bus ride there is usually tempered by onerous physics or math books resting on the student's lap, but upon arrival, all of that is left on the bus.
A busload from Mathey and Rocky Colleges disembarked in front of the Ambassador Theatre at around 7:15 p.m., giving the students 45 minutes to relax before the show started. Some walked the few blocks to Times Square, where they spent the next 20 minutes in a trance-like state of raised eyes and open mouths.
"We are such tourists," they laughed as they returned to the theater.
In the "Chicago" playbill, there were several inserts alerting patrons that different cast members would be playing several of the leading roles.
"Great," some students thought, "We must have gotten the understudy performance. Well, for the $20 it cost to come . . ." But all were in for a pleasant surprise.
As they shuffled into the theatre, they were shocked by how quaint it was, contrary to the expectations of a Broadway theater. Fortunately, due to this, all of the students could see quite well from their back row seats.
For those unfamiliar with the play, "Chicago" is based on two murder trials that occurred in Chicago in 1924. Beulah Annan and Belva Gaertner were both accused of murdering their lovers and were both acquitted. Bob Fosse adapted it into a musical in 1975.
In the play, adulteress Roxie Hart murders her boyfriend and goes to jail where she meets Velma Kelly, a sometime performer accused of murdering her husband and sister. On the advice of jail warden Matron "Mama" Morton, Roxie's devoted husband Amos gets her the best lawyer in town, Billy Flynn.
As Roxie and Velma vie for the attention of the media, Roxie convinces everyone that she is pregnant, sealing her position on the front page.
Melanie Griffith, a name most movie aficionados know, played Roxie Hart. Interestingly, however, though Griffith successfully portrayed Roxie as innocent and simultaneously snotty, she lacked character development and had no singing talent whatsoever. It seemed that she was not excited to be performing.
On the other hand, as was quickly evident in the opening number, "All that Jazz," Donna Marie Asbury, the actress playing Velma Kelly, was quite talented despite being an understudy. Her strong voice and energy immediately engaged and held the audience.
Surprisingly, it was the smaller roles that "made" the play. P.J. Benjamin (Amos) was quite funny and did a spectacular rendition of "Mr. Cellophane." Mary Sunshine, a reporter in the play, was played by an incredibly giddy and energetic actress or so the audience was lead to believe. In the last number, "Mary" took off her wig and shockingly was actually played by an actor, ambiguously named D. Sabella.

Understudy Belle Calaway played "Mama" Morton and, as a thin, red haired lady, was quite a contrast to Queen Latifa's voluptuous portrayal in the movie. She could sing quite well but seemed a bit uncomfortable moving around. The highlight was in "When You're Good to Mama" when she sang, " . . . you're stroking Mama, like the Princeton crew . . ." (The Princetonians, of course, all "roared" at that, enjoying the intimacy of the performance.)
Interestingly, the band was right in the middle of the stage on bleachers, which at first seemed awkward on an already small stage. However, it allowed some fantastically funny interactions between the director and the characters.
The dancing was great, and though it was a bit too sexual for my taste, the promiscuity and skimpy clothing is an intrinsic part of "Chicago."
So, how does it compare to the movie? The movie was a bit more entertaining simply because more cinematography can be done with it, but watching the movie on TV does not hold a candle to the glamour of New York and live theater.
Afterwards, as the students were waiting for the bus, some met P.J. Benjamin (Amos) who, smiling, said, "Melanie taught me everything I know." Donna Marie Asbury (Velma Kelly) tried to "escape" unnoticed, but when she was accosted by signature-hungry Princeton students, she gladly signed our playbills. When Belle Calaway (Mama) marched out, no one approached her to ask for her signature. Melanie Griffith did not make an appearance. Maybe she had scooted across the street to where husband Antonio Banderas was performing in "Nine."
Once the students were back on the bus, they were forced once again to take up their books. Hopefully, however, they learched forward with clearer heads, refreshed for another weekend of work . . . "and all that jazz."