That new razzle dazzle.

They could have called it Legs. But no, it's the revival of Chicago, the gammiest and gamiest show on Broadway. When the curtain goes up on the long-legged, black-clad dancers, pelvises rotating, solar plexuses undulating, bumpingly and grindingly exulting in "All That Jazz," you know that whatever might come next, it's a dancers' show.

Bob Fosse's choreography, channeled through Ann Reinking, has the sharp angles, contractions, and punch of the original with, perhaps, a little less misogynistic thrust.

The talented crew gyrates in Fosse's nervy way of stringing steps together--strut, accented pelvic rotation, thrust, shoulder shrug, split kick, and provocative pose. And nowhere are they executed better than by the two stars, Reinking and Bebe Neuwirth. In "Hot Honey Rag," the only original Fosse choreography retained in the show, they pair up to deliver a sister act spoof that's also a foolproof showstopper. In 1975 Chicago played second fiddle to A Chorus Line, which danced off with the Tony honors. But as we reported [Dance/heater, October 1996, page 86], the seed was planted for this black orchid of a Broadway musical during last year's Encores! series at City Center. Walter Bobbie, whose clever stage direction ensured Chicago's success there, was rightfully entrusted with its transition to the Richard Rodgers Theatre. The conflagration of Reinking, her costars Neuwirth, James Naughton, and Joel Grey, and the ensemble ignite Chicago as spectacularly as that town's famous fire.

Sparked by Neuwirth, thirty-seven, and Reinking, forty-seven (who has acquired a deeper, more mature persona without forfeiting any of her earlier allure, not least her shapely legs), the supporting cast of dancer-actors bursts with dazzling energy. Tall, willowy Leigh Zimmerman has been recruited from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, where she outstandingly danced Panacea, one of the whores; Mamie Duncan-Gibbs, David Warren-Gibson, and Bruce Anthony Davis, all Fosse show veterans, find the choreography as comfortable as old shoes. Caitlin Carter and Tina Paul (who once danced with Roland Petit's Les Ballets de Marseille before becoming a Broadway gypsy) are also striking among a fine cast.

The plot, set in the Roaring Twenties, concerns Roxie Hart, frustrated housewife and failed chorine, who plugs her boyfriend full of lead; the resulting tabloid publicity then plugs her, sob-sister style, in headlines. She schemes to dodge the rap, aided by slick opportunist lawyer Billy Flynn (Naughton). Consigned to Cook County Jail, already Front Page territory, she encounters Velma Kelly (Neuwirth), who has recently split up her vaudeville sister act by shooting both her sister and their shared lover. Not only that, her six jailmates include other crime passionnel "victims" (that is, murderesses) overseen but not overlooked by Matron "Mama" Morton (Marcia Lewis), the ultimate pro at quid pro quo, as she brassily proclaims in her big song, "When You're Good to Mama."

Beginning in 1926 as a play by Maurine Dallas Watkins and continuing as a 1927 silent movie, Chicago, and as William Wellman's 1942 vehicle for Ginger Rogers, Roxie Hart, the show was transformed by John Kander, Fred Ebb, and Fosse into a musical in 1975. The Watergate scandal had come to a head the year before, and the book's deep vein of cynicism suited that era. Now, as several critics have pointed out, Chicago seems even more timely with its darkly humorous take on venality, a skewed jury system, an irresponsible press, and the irrepressible exploitation of violence, ephemeral fame, and chicanery--legal and political. Or, as director Bobbie puts it, "In a way the show is no longer a satire--it's a documentary.

Though the twenties era is suggested in only the sketchiest manner in William Ivey Long's chic, all-black, bodyrevealing costumes and by John Lee Beatty's spare scenic design, such economy does give the show an edge. However, when opportunity arises, opulence can suddenly surface in the form of the fanciest of fan dances, with a bevy of girls surrounding Billy Flynn waving white ostrich plumes, Ziegfeld style. Throughout, the orchestra, led by Rob Fisher, plays on a tiered platform center stage, with Ken Billington's lighting illuminating the action boiling up around it.

Fosse's angular choreography, as reworked by Reinking, conveys the jazz-era spirit of the time while avoiding its cliches. When hard-bitten Velma performs a tango, it's in a cell block where she and other inmates sit astride chairs and sexily scissor their legs. And when she and "Mama" Morton yodel a duet about the lack of class in their modern world, they lament in raunchy lyrics, "Holy crap, holy crap./What a shame, what a shame . . . What became . . . of class?"

Joel Grey's unturned worm of a husband is perfectly pitched, especially in his number "Mister Cellophane." It might be remembered that he's an old hand in Kander and Ebb musicals, having played the emcee in Cabaret onstage and -screen, winning both a Tony and an Oscar. Here he's the perfect foil for Reinking's brash Roxie. (In 1977 Reinking replaced Gwen Verdon, the original Roxie, for the last eight months of the run. A veteran of Fosse shows--Pippin, Sweet Charity, Dancin', and the movie All That Jazz--she was also his longtime companion.)

The show is also a triumph for Neuwirth. Costumed throughout in a brief black skirt that reveals her dancer's legs and model's torso, she brings a wealth of training and experience to the role. Starting out early with ballet classes, Neuwirth studied modern dance at Juilliard, then won roles in A Chorus Line, Dancin', the 1986 revival of Fosse's Sweet Charity (which earned her a Tony), Lola in the 1994 revival of Damn Yankees, and, almost as a sideline, she found fame as Lilith Sternin in NBC's Cheers. In Chicago she and Reinking are the consummate Broadway stars, just as Verdon and Chita Rivera were in their roles before them.

This revival has not been without its problems. Reinking's husky voice, usually an asset, was silenced for five preopening night performances, and continues to give concern. Neuwirth sprained her ankle and was out early in the run. And, come April, the show must move from the Richard Rodgers Theatre to make room for the previously booked Steel Pier. Being irrepressible, Chicago is bound to find a new home. Even if it has to dance in the streets.