Review: Fame

The new remake of Fame will appeal to pre-teens who hope to go to performing arts schools, but who -- implausibly -- have never seen any other movies, or plays, or dance performances or music recitals. Moreover, they must not yet possess the ability to tell good performance from bad, nor truly inspired plot twists from hackneyed ones. Parents, on the other hand, will find that the movie sucks their will to live. It begins with the typical audition sequence, in which thousands of hopefuls show off their talents in front of grim-faced teachers. Whether or not the kids are talented makes no difference; some of the worst performers incredibly make the final cut, and even the best performers chosen aren't about to set the world on fire.

Following that, we meet our instructors, most of them played by talented, slumming actors. Kelsey Grammer plays the music teacher, Megan Mullally teaches singing, Bebe Neuwirth teaches dance and Charles S. Dutton teaches acting. (Debbie Allen, a holdover from the 1980 film, plays the principal.) Each of the teachers tries to impart the concept that each performer needs to find his or her own personality, find out what he or she wants to say, and then find a way to convey that, honestly, through their craft. The movie then completely ignores this advice and gives us a truckload of the usual mainstream, reality TV junk that sells. For example, from the dance class, rather than a ballet ("boorr-ing"), we get a rendition of some rejected "Pussycat Dolls" number, complete with skimpy stockings and strutting. (Not surprisingly, "director" Kevin Tancharoen worked on the "Pussycat Dolls" reality TV show.)




Then we move on to our so-called "stars." Asher Book leads the pack; I had never heard of him, but his name elicited squeals from the audience. He's an ultra-bland pop star who sings in a kind of sensitive high-pitched whine, though he still lacks the edge of acts like Air Supply and Christopher Cross. Unfortunately his acting is even worse, although no actor could have made his creepy, jealous boyfriend character, Marco, work. In an attempt at romance, Marco hooks up with the school's cutie, Jenny (Kay Panabaker), who is -- of course -- very high strung and can't bring herself to loosen up enough to sing or act in front of her peers. (Yet somehow she passed auditions and got into the exclusive school.) Marco sings her one of his sensitive songs, and they kiss. But when she is duped by an "audition" scheme and is lured into the trailer of a handsome, working actor, Marco reacts with jealous rage. (You'd think that, since some guy made unwanted sexual advances on his girlfriend, that he might have a bit more sympathy and direct his anger toward the attacker, not the victim.)

That's exasperating, but next up is the truly annoying "filmmaker" character, Neil Baczynsky (Paul Iacono), who gets accepted to the school on the basis of a terrible acting audition, even though the school doesn't appear to have any kind of filmmaking program. He, of course, films everything on his digital camera and what little we see of his work is barely worthy of YouTube. (It's embarrassing to watch poor Charles S. Dutton reacting to his films with a forced smile.) Then Neil meets with a producer and is surprised to discover that he is responsible for raising his own money for a short film. Anyone who has ever left the house will see where this plotline is going, but apparently Neil cannot.

More so-called "characters" show up, such as classical pianist Denise (Naturi Naughton), who really wants to be a hip-hop singer (she sings Irene Cara's "Out Here On My Own," from the original film). Unfortunately, her one-dimensional father forbids it, and her one-dimensional mother won't stand up for her. She teams up with an actor/rapper, Malik (Collins Pennie) and a producer, Victor (Walter Perez), to make a demo track. A record company executive likes her singing, but not the rest of it. The boys react with anger, and not any kind of congratulations or encouragement for Denise. She could have been the next Lauryn Hill, apparently, but her selfish friends talk her out of it. (The movie has a running undercurrent of contempt for women, all the more disturbing since it's going out to 14 year-old girls everywhere.) It goes on. The rest of the characters are just as flat and stereotypical and we're expected to muster up some kind of emotional attachment to them as they meander through four years of school together.

One or two of the musical numbers have a bit of flair and energy, and if nothing else, director Tancharoen knows to frame the dancers in full head-to-toe shots, rather than in chopped-up bits and pieces. The usual cafeteria all-student-jam sequence isn't bad either, up to a point. But Tancharoen also tries to capture a "gritty" New York City feel, and his attempt is a failure; one shot of Times Square only reminds us that it has become a "walking mall," and a million miles away from the world of the original Fame. Despite all the collective experience of the teachers, not one of the students ever shows a moment of truth or real personality; it's all pre-programmed, test-marketed product for teens to consume, even if they don't know why. As for myself, as a lifelong lover of film and an admirer or artistic personality, I found this one of the year's most abysmally awful, depressing movie experiences.

[Note: if you're looking for a much better "follow-your-dream" movie and a much stronger role model for girls, see Drew Barrymore's PG-13 rated Whip It, which sneak previews across the country on Saturday before opening nationwide on October 2nd]