The filmmakers wove a lot of trial into the number, and the actual courtroom is circular, like the center ring of a circus. Fantasy crosses into reality in this scene in a slightly surreal moment when Amos is on the stand. In the real world of the courtroom, a showgirl appears in the box with Amos, showing the dramatics of the courtroom are not just in Roxie’s imagination: Amos is confused by Billy’s quick verbal back and forth play about whether or not he had sex with or wanted to have sex with Roxie. Other witnesses are similarly dazed and dizzied by Billy’s sleight of hand and his theatrical tactics. The jury is also taken in by all his tricks. Even the judge and later the prosecutor will fall prey to Billy's play.

Roxie becomes the star witness as she takes the stand. Not only has Roxie stolen Velma’s lawyer, her publicity, and trial date, but now Roxie goes on to steal all of Velma’s theatrical tricks: the garter, the handkerchief, and the water; to which Roxie adds a reprise of her of her own, as she feigns fainting again, remarking mid feint or faint to Billy, “what a bulls-eye, eh?”

The illusory, theatrical nature of the whole judicial system is abundantly apparent. Not only is there the glittering glamorous carnival atmosphere of Roxie’s imagination, but the equally wonderful lyrics of the song that inspired these amazing images, too. In the trial itself, theatrical nature of what is happening in reality, cannot be escaped, for example: Billy slips as he instructs Roxie to “tell the audience” when he means to say “the jury,” and also Billy mouths the words of Roxie’s testimony in unison with her, which shows how rehearsed and scripted the entire trial is and harkens back to the press conference ventriloquist scene (Marshall, 2003b, DVD).

As the trial and song progress in tandem, Billy is celebrating pulling it off. His razzle dazzle is working, blowing sequins in their eyes. As Billy sings, he is up on the tables in front of the judge, and we see the arch behind the judge all lit up, reminiscent of Shiva’s dance. Indeed, the illusion of the justness of the justice system has been thoroughly destroyed—this number shows us the shadowy truth. ∆RC[ch24]

Mary Sunshine has been giving a play by play on the radio during all of this, like she is at a sporting event. Back at the jail, Velma and Mama are listening to the radio in Mama’s office and Velma is beside herself when she discovers that Roxie has stolen all of her material. Mama’s good riddance remark implies that she, too, has been cast off by Roxie. Velma complains that there is no justice, but Mama disagrees, producing Roxie’s diary. This gives Velma a chance to play Roxie’s nemesis.

Velma Takes The Stand

Velma is called as a rebuttal witness. She has struck a deal with the prosecutor to drop the charges against her in exchange for her testimony. Velma is oh so fashionable, “dressed to the nines” in her cloche hat as she takes the stand, swearing to tell the whole truth, “and then some.” The prosecutor asks Velma to read from Roxie’s diary, which Velma purportedly found in Roxie’s cell: “I haven’t worked in a while,” Velma says as she clears her throat in preparation and proceeds to read. Billy is apparently shocked, and Roxie gets all flustered and protests that Velma is lying and making things it up. Billy, thinking quickly, asks Velma to read further for him, since she “gave such an impressive performance” for the prosecutor. Billy, in a shrewd act of sleight of hand and foot, turns things all around. In Roxie’s imagination, this becomes a tapdance, an allusion to the line in "Razzle Dazzle": “when you’re in trouble go into your dance.” The remainder of the scene plays back and forth between Billy’s sleight of hand and sleight of foot as he tricks and tapdances his way through the final portion of the trial. The entire tapdance sequence as it appears, director Marshall (2003b, DVD) explains, was created in the editing room out of different pieces of dance, instead of having one number that was planned out ahead of time. ∆RC[ch25]

A Tapdance

Velma reads some words, like "erroneous" that sound very erudite, which Billy points out to the jury, and then Billy continues reading, and turns everything around as the prosecutor objects, which plays right into Billy’s hands:

Harrison: Objection your honor! Mr. Flynn is twisting this evidence to draw conclusions that are specious and . . .

Billy: Erroneous.

Harrison: Exactly

Billy then tries aloud to figure out who the “mysterious benefactor” of the diary might be, since it has come out that Velma did not really find the diary in Roxie’s cell after all. Billy queries: “reneging on pledges, and erroneous charges. Call me crazy, but doesn’t that sound like a lawyer to you?” Again, Billy lures the prosecutor into a trap as he notes that Harrison had a sample of Roxie’s handwriting. Billy then proceeds to further obfuscate and confuse the entire proceeding, turning the tables on Harrison, through a brilliant piece of imaginal diversion:

Harrison: You’re not suggesting I tamper with evidence?

Billy: Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s thoroughly and utterly absurd. But now that you mention it . . . .

Harrison: Your honor this is outrageous!

Billy: Outrageous, I know, to suggest that the prosecutor make a thief's bargain with the notorious Velma Kelly . . . and then fabricated the very evidence that set her free . . . just so he could win another case and move one step closer to the Governor’s mansion . . . why it’s simply beyond all imaginings, and that’s why you’ll never hear it coming from my lips. No it isn’t even conceivable, but if it were—wouldn’t it be time to say: Come clean, Mr. Harrison? Even in Chicago, this kind of corruption cannot stand! Will not stand!

Judge: Enough Mr. Flynn

Billy: I agree. Your Honor, this is enough! The defense rests.

By accusing the prosecutor of corruption and complicity with Velma, Billy thus tapdances his way out of trouble through misdirection. Billy upsets the order in the court with these totally outrageous charges; he is so over the top, that the judge even threatens him with contempt, shouting "that is enough," as he bangs on the gavel, to return order to the courtroom. Billy then quickly grabs the gavel from the judge, agrees with the judge that it is enough, and Billy rests his case.

Billy’s tapdance, his fancy footwork, shows another important aspect of the Trickster. Combs and Holland (2001), associate the divine Trickster with both Dionysus and Shiva, and thus with music, dance, play, and theater:

Thus we discover that Hermes, inventor of the lyre and the world’s first musician, stands along with Dionysus and the Indian god Shiva at the center of one of the most ancient and elevated concepts of creation, a concept based in rhythm, movement and mutual attraction; in a word, the dance. The Greek writer Lucian wrote, “it seems that the dance appeared at the beginning of all things… since we can see this first dance clearly appear in the ballet of the constellations and in the lower lapping movements of the planets and stars and their relationships, in an ordered harmony.” In Indian mythology the divine Shiva is known as the lord of the dance, and all creation is his theater. It is his dance that resonates throughout the universe as the rhythmic energy that is at the foundation of everything. The mood of the dance, like that of play, is one of dynamic tension between discipline on one hand and self-abandonment on the other. Such a mood aptly describes the ambience of our relationship to the world when we are most open to experiencing synchronicity, we play, we dance. (p. 143)

Did all this trickiness work? Well the jury is still out on that one, oops, I guess they are back because they have rendered…

The Verdict

As Mary Sunshine comments in a voice-over, the scene shows how the outcome to the “trial of the century” is awaited across Chicago. Two different papers have been printed, one with the headline: Guilty, the other Innocent, an homage Marshall (2003b, DVD) explains, to the movie Roxie Hart. After someone waves a white flag out of a courthouse window, the “Innocent” papers hit the streets, and almost immediately, gunshots are heard. A woman has just killed her husband and his lawyer on the courthouse steps, so naturally the entire press corps, along with everyone else, rushes out and onto the next story right away.

Roxie has her freedom, but is ungrateful and alone. “Hey I’m the famous Roxie Hart,” she says as everyone rushes out, Roxie is so self-absorbed and narcissistic that she cannot get over the fact that she is now yesterday’s news, and no one even wants to take her picture, because she was counting on the publicity for her career. Billy watches her, and clues her in on another truth: “This is Chicago kid, you can’t beat fresh blood on the walls,” which shows the fickleness of the public, how it throws out old celebrity, and is especially driven by sensationalism and violence. Billy hands Roxie back her diary, telling her that he hopes she does not mind that he “added a few erroneous phrases.” Billy has pulled a double trick on everyone. He could not take a chance on the outcome, he had to make sure that his “never lost a case” record remained intact. Billy got a “two-for-one” in this case, because Velma and Roxie are both free and Billy made ten thousand dollars, not too bad!

Nowadays—Nothing Stays, The Back And Forth Dynamics Of The Psyche

The transition to Roxie’s last fantasy number comes with a voice-over as she is staring out the window of the courthouse. We see Roxie's eye, as at the beginning of the movie, Roxie is right back where she started. She is singing the song “Nowadays,” and we see Roxie on the imaginal stage at the Onyx, one last time, she is wearing a shiny black sequined gown, the song’s lyrics describe the present and how wonderful it is with men, booze, life, and joy everywhere, but Roxie's tone betrays her. We can see that all of this is really fleeting and empty: “And it’s good, isn’t it? Grand, isn’t it? Great, isn’t it? Swell, isn’t it? Fun, isn’t it? But nothing stays . . . .” ∆RC[ch26]

The scene then flashes back to the Onyx Theater in “real life” where Roxie is auditioning this number in a cutesy kind of way. She gets passed over, her former notoriety almost forgotten. The men that Roxie is auditioning for remark to each other: “Didn’t she kill a guy a while back? Who can keep ‘em straight anymore.” All of her prior fame is certainly of no help now; celebrity and fame are fleeting and fickle. Roxie has come full circle, back to the place where she started, feeling that she has nothing to show for all that she has been through. She still has not really gotten the lesson of cooperation. Roxie still has not realized the lesson that Velma has learned. Although Velma unconsciously worked with Billy and Mama in freeing herself and Roxie, Velma has now consciously changed, and is no longer so high and mighty.

Velma has been watching Roxie, standing where Roxie stood the night she first saw Velma. Velma approaches Roxie in a complimentary way, drawing a nasty barrage from Roxie. Velma asks to work with her and Roxie disdains her and declines, thinking that Velma is patronizing her. Velma then drops the papers she has been carrying, and in kneeling to pick them up reveals her stockings, which have a big run in them. Embarrassed, Velma moves to cover them, and Roxie realizes that Velma is not being haughty after all, but is instead humble. This equalizes Velma in Roxie’s eyes, and they finally agree to work together, Roxie getting top billing. No more competition, the only way that they can actually be successful at all is by working together, by cooperating, by “playing ball!”

Roxie and Velma have been on a shadowy journey of individuation, so it is only fitting that the shadow, Velma, individuated first: “Individuation is a kind of circular odyssey, a spiral journey, where the aim is to get back to where you started but knowing where you’ve been” (Sharp, 2001, p. 63). Sharp further explicates the individuation process through the famous alchemical precept “the Axiom of Maria”:

One becomes two, two becomes three, and out of the third comes the one as the fourth.” Jung saw this dictum as an apt metaphor for the process of individuation, a progressive advance of consciousness in which conflict plays a profoundly important role. In brief, one stands for the original, paradisiacal state of unconscious wholeness, (e.g. childhood); two signifies the loss of innocence occasioned by a conflict between opposites (e.g. persona and shadow); three points to a potential resolution; the third is the transcendent function; and the one as the fourth is psychologically equivalent to a transformed state of consciousness. (p. 63)

Continued on page 13