Director Kevin Tancharoen makes it clear right from the start that he wants his remake of Fame to be something like the anti-American Idol, a celebration of hard work and dedication to craft. This message gets hammered home early on by Principal Simms (Debbie Allen), the head of the High School for the Performing Arts (P.A. for short), in a forceful speech to incoming freshmen about how if they want fame they'll have to pay for it -- in sweat.
And, for the first half-hour, the movie gets by on showing us just that. The opening montage of kids auditioning for the school has a seductive flow; the rapid editing gives the movie momentum, although it's a little too quick to let us fully appreciate the dancing. Sadly, as we get to know this new crop of students, the energy quickly dissipates because, when it comes to their lives, screenwriter Allison Burnett leaves no cliché behind. Troubled youth from a broken inner-city home? Check. Driven dance diva who has no time for a personal life? Check. Classical pianist who really wants to sing R&B?
Check. Casting couch? Check. No supportive parents in the entire universe? Check, check, and check.
The movie does try to overcome these stock situations. Early on, the handheld, verite-inspired camerawork has a genuine novelty to it; you feel like you're getting to know the kids as they're getting to know each other. But eventually the restless camera -- and the ADHD editing rhythms -- makes it impossible to appreciate their dancing.
Fame has its heart in the right place. The message it leaves about the perseverance required to become a superstar is certainly welcome in a world saturated with flash-in-the-pan reality TV "stars" -- and it's a lesson the teachers at P.A. certainly know how to deliver effectively. Ballet expert Lynn Kraft (Bebe Neuwirth) informs one kid he'll never make it because he can't partner; music instructor Joel Cranston (Kelsey Grammer) gravely expresses the importance of practice and technique; acting teacher Alvin Dowd (Charles S. Dutton) leads his charges though method-inspired psychological exercises that teach them how to be truthful; and singing coach Fran Rowan (Megan Mullally) serves up the lesson every young crooner gets in these kind of movies -- understand the words you're singing. The experienced actors playing the staff deliver their inspiring speeches with skill -- you'd probably want to have them as your own teachers -- but nothing about this movie teaches viewers what it actually takes to get better at any of these disciplines. Granted, it's probably asking too much for any movie to teach an audience how to dance and sing, but because it never pulls itself out of a sea of familiarity, Fame fails to make us feel the sheer joy and exuberance of the performers. leave a comment --Perry Seibert