Any qualms that fans of the original Hairspray might have about the new movie version should quickly fade during the opening number, in which newcomer Nikki Blonsky tries the iconic role of Tracy Turnblad on and it’s a perfect, plus-size fit. Blonsky – like Ricki Lake before her – exuberantly embodies the first picture’s sense of irrepressible pride. Bouncing down the street on the way to school, singing her heart out and swinging her hips, she’s oblivious to the prejudices and insecurities of the real world. Her ignorance is our bliss. Based more on the Broadway play than on writer-director John Waters original 1988 film, this Hairspray is, necessarily, more corporate. It’s missing Waters’ sense of danger, for one thing, and it’s forced to include an almost fatally distracting “name” presence in John Travolta (a hideous sight in a fat suit as Tracy’s mom). Yet when it counts – when Blonsky and others are dancing, when the likes of Michelle Pfeiffer and Christopher Walken are hitting just the right notes of purposeful camp – Hairspray is as infectiously free-spirited as its predecessor.
