Energetic ‘Hairspray’
gives a valuable history lesson

Robyn’s Hood
By Robyn McCloskey

Being the complete dork that I’ve always been, I absolutely positively could not wait until the movie Hairspray came out. I’ve never seen it on Broadway and I missed out on the John Waters-Ricki Lake film version about 20 years ago, but I was not going to miss out on this one.
The latest film interpretation stars a previously unknown yet perfectly cast Nikki Blonsky as the perky and determined Tracy Turnblad, who, despite her plus size, has a dream to dance on the Corny Collins Show, sponsored by Ultra Clutch Hairspray. The show is Baltimore’s answer to American Bandstand, and Corny Collins is its version of Dick Clark.
Less than a year ago, Miss Blonsky stood behind a counter, creating dream ice-cream combinations for customers with a sweet tooth. Now she’s recreating dream musical numbers in the movies. In Hairspray, Tracy’s dream comes true; in real life, so does Nikki’s. You go, girl!
The movie opened on July 20, and in keeping with my dorky ways, my 7-year-old daughter Madeline and I were at the theater by 10:30 that morning for the 10:50 showing.
As soon as the opening musical number unfolded before our eyes, we broke into huge grins, which lasted for practically the duration of the film. It is a happy-feel-good-toe-tapping movie, the kind of movie that makes you want to dance in your seat.
That is, except for the underlying theme of racial desegregation. Hairspray is set at the height of Camelot and those promising Kennedy days, before Lee Harvey Oswald and before James Earl Ray. A time when people hung a picture of the president in their homes, like Tracy’s parents, Edna and Wilbur, have done. I don’t know of anyone who has a picture of our president on the wall, but I also don’t wonder if Monica Lewinsky has a picture of a certain past president secretly folded in her wallet.
Edna Turnblad, Tracy’s plus-plus-size mom, is played by the always amazing and constantly surprising John Travolta. Which to me was a major bonus, since I’ve basically been in love with the man since his Vinnie Barbarino days on TV. Seeing my lifelong crush dressed as a 300-pound woman was a little unsettling at first.
But after just a few minutes of screen time, you completely forget that it is the king-of-all-things himself. You get lost in his heartwarming portrayal of the overprotective mom who only wants to spare her daughter from the stares and comments of people too ignorant to see past such superficial things as a person’s weight.
Queen Latifah plays Motormouth Maybelle, the "big, blonde and beautiful" — and thoughtfully maternal — DJ who gets to take Corny’s place on the show once a month for "Negro Day."
I wasn’t prepared for the barrage of questions my 7-year-old would have about this situation. She is oblivious to prejudice; she didn’t understand how people could be treated differently because of the color of their skin.
I tried explaining to her how backward our society used to be, and sadly at times still is, whether it’s color, weight or simply circumstances. I tried not to squelch her innocence. I tried not to focus on the bad. I tried to help her see that although we are not where we should be, thankfully we are not where we once were.
Again, staying true to my inner dork, we left the theater and purchased the soundtrack. Madeline listened to it about a gazillion times over that weekend. She puts on headphones and belts out the tunes. She has memorized almost every word of every song. And although she’s no Queen Latifah and has no idea of the depth of meaning in the words, I can’t help but listen more closely as she sings the words to I Know Where I’ve Been.
There’s a dream in the future
There’s a struggle that we have yet to win
And there’s pride in my heart
’Cause I know where I’m going, yes I do
And I know where I’ve been
So while my 7-year-old is blissfully ignorant of our country’s checkered past, I am grateful that someone like Adam Shankman, the director of Hairspray, is reminding us in such a colorful way how far we’ve come. And how, for people like the real Nikki Blonsky and the fictional Tracy Turnblad, dreams can come true, not only for individuals but for a society as well. ••
Robyn McCloskey’s column appears each week in the Northeast Times. She can be reached at crmccloskey@verizon.net