As staged by writer-director Bill Condon, Dreamgirls is a delectable infusion of girl-powered storytelling and toe-tapping beats. The story, the rise of "The Dreamettes" and the toes they step on to become famous, is "unofficially" the story of the birth of MoTown and really, black music as a whole in the mainstream conscious. The opening scene will get your blood pumping and the closing number will have you cheering. Everything else in between is an explosion of pop spectacle, wonderful and sassy.
Deena (Beyonce) and Effie (Jennifer Hudson in a revelatory performance) are the strong voices in an unknown trio who spend their nights ooohing and aaahing on the Detroit music scene. Soon though, they've been swalloed by Curtis Taylor (Jamie Foxx) and are singing backup for a falling R&B legend, James Early (Eddie Murphy). Quick enough, Early is gone and so is Effie. What is left is Deena, the black all but steam rolled out of her and Curtis smiling like a shark having become like the Whites he hated. Though it aspires to be a tale about the underside of fame, it never quite gets there. It's true passion lies with women and how they can survive.
When Hudson belts "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going", my spine shivered. When Eddie Murphy gyrated, I laughed. And when Deena shimmies on stage in one of the most beautiful retro-70's dresses of the year, I hummed with joy. Condon has written a musical that isn't quite the sarcastic brilliance of Chicago. Instead, it's something flashier...more sweet. Every heel snap, every swish of the dress, everything is alive and singing and soon enough, you will be too.
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