制霸好莱坞

Times Square was bustling as always in the afternoon, particularly near the Broadway TKTS ticket booths, where long queues of tourists from around the world stretched endlessly. Many waited for hours, hoping to secure discounted tickets for that evening's performances. Some lucky ones could get seats for as little as half the original price. Even New Yorkers, either budget-conscious or spontaneous, often found themselves in line, trying their luck. Meanwhile, savvy theatergoers had already secured premium seats in advance through online discounts and promo codes, ensuring a comfortable and seamless experience for the evening.

To boost last-minute sales, Broadway theaters frequently employed temporary workers to attract potential buyers lingering near the ticket booths. However, today, "Chicago" was not among the discounted shows. Tourists and locals alike repeatedly inquired about available tickets, only to receive the same response: "Sold out. No remaining tickets."

In fact, the Shubert Theatre had been fully booked for the evening's performance for over a week. Attendees filled the venue for various reasons, but the prime seats belonged to theater critics from major publications. Broadway's productions—whether original works or revivals—held significant weight in the theater industry, making them a focal point for critics.

Jennifer Jefferson's rising fame was enough to garner media attention, though not quite enough to summon critics from outside New York. Nonetheless, notable reviewers from The New Yorker and The New York Post, along with influential bloggers from prominent theater blogs, had accepted invitations. The theater's PR team, along with Jennifer's newly hired publicist, had worked tirelessly to ensure their presence.

Among the audience were June and her mother, two typical New Yorkers whose exposure to Broadway musicals had been minimal. June, a regular high school student, typically spent her free time watching TV shows, shopping, and hanging out with her boyfriend. Her mother, likewise unfamiliar with musicals, had only purchased tickets out of sheer curiosity about Jennifer Jefferson, nicknamed "JJ."

"Mom, what do you think JJ will look like on stage? Will she be prettier than on TV?" June asked excitedly.

"I don't know," her mother replied. "This theater is bigger than I expected. I just hope we can see her face clearly."

While casual theatergoers engaged in naive conversations, seasoned critics gathered, discussing Chicago's marketing strategy.

"Yes, the girl is beautiful, but that's not what really matters in musical theater..."

The Shubert Theatre, with its three-tier seating, could accommodate thousands, making it difficult for those in the back rows to discern facial expressions without binoculars. Musical theater, unlike film, did not rely on close-ups or cinematic tricks. Instead, it demanded exceptional singing and dancing skills, with acting prowess following closely behind. Appearance, though a potential asset, was the least essential factor.

As the audience settled in, some veteran theatergoers shook their heads, overhearing chatter from attendees seemingly more interested in Roxy's looks than the performance itself. They knew that when faced with a live musical—where facial details were often lost in the distance—some first-timers would grow restless. Would they remain engaged, or become distractions to those seeking to genuinely enjoy the show?

Many critics had expressed skepticism about the casting of this season's Chicago. Broadway veterans were accustomed to watching performers rise through the ranks, and the sudden emergence of an unfamiliar yet stunningly beautiful actress raised doubts. Some suspected her selection was merely a marketing ploy.

"This might bring in solid box office numbers this year," remarked the renowned critic Ben Brantley. "But what's their plan for next year? Keep baiting tourists and ruin the reputation of the Shubert?"

A colleague whispered, "I heard the theater is already working on a new production. Last year's revenue dipped, and they had to halt development midway."

Brantley raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so they're milking Chicago for every penny before moving on. That sounds more like the James I know. Otherwise, this casting choice would've been a mystery."

As the theater buzzed with speculation, a voice over the intercom signaled the start of the performance. The lights dimmed, and an expectant hush fell over the audience.

"Oh," June's mother murmured, "I can actually see quite clearly now."

June quickly hushed her. "The show's about to start—be quiet."

Regardless of their initial motivations, everyone's focus was now on the stage. The first ten minutes of any musical were crucial, setting the tone for the audience's engagement.

In the darkness, the curtain slowly lifted. A pianist sat on the left side of the stage, his deep voice resonating through the theater: "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you will witness a story of murder, greed, corruption, and betrayal..."

As he spoke, the minimalist set was revealed. The pianist played leisurely, while a live band accompanied from the corner. A few dancers moved casually at center stage, though the audience's attention was drawn elsewhere—to the dimly lit backstage area.

A shadowed figure in a suit called out, "Where is she? The show's about to begin!"

A second shadow emerged. "She's not coming tonight. Don't worry—I can handle it alone."

As the music swelled, the announcer stepped forward to introduce the show. Meanwhile, the shadowed figure rapidly changed costumes behind the stage. This clever staging transformed the hurried costume change into an artistic visual, devoid of any suggestiveness yet undeniably captivating.

Then, the moment of anticipation arrived. As the announcer declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Agate Nightclub proudly presents Chicago's most famous sister act..."

The stage lights illuminated center stage, shifting focus entirely. A statuesque Black woman—Velma—rose dramatically, launching into All That Jazz with commanding presence.

Brantley nodded in approval. "A strong opening. The adaptation is tighter than previous versions. Dietrich is consistent—her weaknesses are apparent, but her strengths in singing and dancing are undeniable."

Her rich vocals and sultry dance moves quickly enthralled the audience. For musical purists, the experience was electrifying. However, for casual attendees more accustomed to the fast-paced visuals of film and television, the prolonged musical number tested their patience. The absence of cinematic close-ups and the reliance on live vocals left some restless.

As the number ended, a group of men in vintage police uniforms stormed the stage, arresting Velma for murder. The sudden shift in action drew gasps from the audience. The clever lighting transitions guided their focus seamlessly to the next scene.

And then, she appeared.

Jennifer Jefferson—Roxy Hart.

A collective intake of breath swept through the audience. Even those in the back rows, unable to fully discern her features, felt the radiance of her presence. The stage lighting made her glow, adding an almost ethereal quality to her entrance.

More than just beautiful, she was captivating.

And then, she acted.

Unlike traditional musical performances, where exaggerated gestures compensate for the lack of cinematic close-ups, Jennifer's performance felt effortless yet magnetic. Her every movement, every inflection, carried an authenticity that immediately connected with the audience. She wasn't merely performing—she was Roxy.

Brantley, who had entered the theater prepared to be unimpressed, found himself momentarily stunned. "Her acting is... different. Not just flirtatious, like in that CSI episode. She's not just playing a femme fatale—she's bringing layers."

As the show continued, even June, who had come merely to admire JJ's beauty, found herself drawn into the story, barely able to focus on her original objective.

Jennifer Jefferson had taken the stage.

And she owned it.