"Hairspray"

John Travolta is no Divine. And this shiny musical just doesn't have the crazy, messy charm of John Waters' original.

By Stephanie Zacharek

Read more: Stephanie Zacharek, Broadway, Movies, Michelle Pfeiffer, John Travolta, Movie Reviews, Arts & Entertainment, John Waters, Reviews

Photo: New Line Cinema

John Travolta and Nikki Blonsky in "Hairspray."

July 20, 2007 | I occasionally receive scolding letters from readers when I compare, unfavorably or otherwise, a recent movie with an older one, particularly if the earlier one isn't a picture they've seen or even heard of. Some people believe critics ought to go into each new picture with the gooey, unfocused eyes of a newborn, the better to blink in wonder at the magic and awe before us. Some of those people have never had to sit through a Nick Cassavetes movie, but never mind: The gist of that logic, I think, is that experience is the enemy, while blind innocence is king. In other words, critics who don't turn themselves into willing amnesiacs, cheerfully erasing everything they've seen before, are doomed to become jaded creatures who enjoy nothing.

So maybe it's necessary to go into Adam Shankman's "Hairspray" -- an elaborate, enthusiastic movie musical based on a Broadway musical, which was itself based on John Waters' sweetest and most entertaining movie -- pretending that a performer as beautiful, and as magnificent, as Divine never existed. But is that even possible? In Waters' 1988 movie, the late Divine played Edna Turnblad, the mother of the socially conscious "hair-hopper" hero, Tracy (originally played by Ricki Lake). Divine's Edna, her arms emerging from her drab, sleeveless housedresses like pudgy sausages, wasn't realistically feminine; if you walked into "Hairspray" cold, you wouldn't for a minute be fooled into believing that this he was really a she. Even so, femininity hovered around Divine's Edna like a cloud of Shalimar. And by the time she emerged with Tracy, post-makeover, from Mr. Pinky's big-gal store Hefty Hideaway, her feet stuffed into dainty pumps, her hair swept up into a monster-truck tousle of curls, suspension of disbelief was no longer necessary. Divine -- whose real name was Glen Milstead -- was more woman than most men could comfortably handle.

Shankman's new "Hairspray," of course, has no Divine, and John Travolta, looking believably pretty and sweet under layers of fondant Latex, is a wholly different incarnation of Edna. And he's not bad. But that right there is the problem with "Hairspray": It's all so "not bad" that it isn't nearly enough, even when Shankman and his cast work hard to send it soaring over the top. Waters is the least subtle of directors, and the meaning of his movie rang out loud and clear enough to dissolve the ozone layer: In Baltimore of the early 1960s, integration had to happen, obviously for humanitarian reasons, but also to save white kids from being doomed to eternal squareness. Waters' optimism, his faith in human beings, is rooted in a sturdy practicality: He suggests that our motivation for changing the world can begin with a single dance step.

Waters' "Hairspray" was also, of course, a lot of fun, which made it good source material for Broadway. Although I live in New York, I see a musical only once every four years or so: The tickets are expensive, and I can't bear the aggressive desperation of most of these shows, the vibe emanating from the actors and even from the sets that works overtime to reassure me that I really am being given a lot of fun for the money I've just shelled out. I saw "Hairspray" on its opening night (I was fortunate enough to be able to tag along with a friend who had press tickets), and while Harvey Fierstein's Edna Turnblad had enough cranky wit and personalized style to keep me from mourning Divine, and the songs were relatively free of that lacquered show-tuney quality that makes so much show music unbearable, I still couldn't help feeling that the Waters version, with its shoestring-budget aesthetic, its wear around the edges, its resolute unshininess, was infinitely better.

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