CAST: John Travolta (Edna Turnblad), Michelle Pfeiffer (Velma Von Tussle), Christopher Walken (Wilbur Turnblad), Amanda Bynes (Penny Pingleton), Queen Latifah (Motormouth Maybelle), and Nikki Blonsky (Tracy Turnblad) SCR: Leslie Dixon DIR: Adam Shankman STUDIO: New Line Cinema MPAA: PG-13 for language, some suggestive content and momentary teen smoking RUNNING TIME: 107 min. OFFICIAL SITE: hairspraymovie.com I have to admit, I was prepared to dislike the new Hairspray. The original John Waters 1988 film is one of my favorite movies. Then I saw the Broadway musical a few years ago, and was . . . underwhelmed. The play lacked the subversiveness of the original movie, and some of the songs seemed to blend together. Also, Harvey Feinstein, taking over the Edna Turnblad role originally played by the inimitable Divine, kept ad-libbing and upstaging the rest of the case, which was annoying (and yes, I'm aware he won a Tony award for doing just that). However, this Hairspray is like a puppy -- bubbling with energy, incredibly cute, endlessly watchable, and impossible to dislike. The movie's heroine, Tracy Turnblad (Nikki Blonsky), a big-haired, big-boned firecracker, and her best friend, Penny Pingleton (Amanda Bynes) are die-hard fans of the Corny Collins Show, a local dance-fest featuring the local high school elite. When one of the dancers on the show gets knocked up, Tracy auditions for the empty spot, only to be laughed out of the room by evil station manager Velma Von Tussle (Michelle Pfeiffer). However, Tracy gets her chance at the spotlight when Link Larkin (Zac Efron), the show's heartthrob, catches her getting down with the black kids in detention hall, and likes her style. Tracy gets on the show, but she wants to make “every day Negro Day,” a reference to the one day a month that the black kids get to show off their moves on the show. Tracy's pro-integration stance causes some problems with the racist, starchy, 50's throwbacks that run the station that televises the show. Ah, the early Sixties - a time of high hair, fabulous fashion and . . . discrimination, which is an interesting premise for a lighthearted musical. Segregation? Hilarious! Racism? Hey, kids, let's put on a show! Hairspray manages to tackle a serious topic by concentrating on pop culture and focusing on the differences between the white and black kids in terms of dancing, music and clothes. By the end of the movie, everyone realizes We Are All the Same. Sure, Hairspraygets a little didactic at times, but its sincerity and innocence save it from being heavy-handed. The cast is pretty fantastic across the board, revolving around an amazing debut performance by Nikki Blonsky as Tracy, who carries the entire movie on her capable shoulders. The cast is chock-full of familiar names. Christopher Walken, as Tracy's father Wilbur, downplays his usual eccentricity and shows a rare gentle side. Michelle Pfeiffer spits venom as the racist, ex-beauty-queen Velma Von Tussle, who is like Cruella Deville with groovier clothes and better hair. Amanda Bynes displays a quirky likeability as best friend Penny Pingleton and Zac Efron is suitably dreamy as Link, and has the requisite cool guy wink-and-smirk down pat. John Travolta, whom I was prepared to hate as Tracey's mother Edna Turnblad, comes across surprisingly sweet and sincere. Travolta plays the role straight, which is ironic since he is in drag. There are a couple of moments where Travolta does seem to be winking from inside his fat suit, such as a duet where Travolta and Walken coo and waltz like two lovebirds. The whole audience seemed to be almost holding its breath wondering if they were going to kiss at the end of the song because the thought of Walken and Travolta locking lips is weird and kind of grotesque and kind of fabulous all at the same time. Even encased in huge, cumbersome prosthetic breasts and bum, Travolta can still shake it, which is impressive. Hairspray is a musical, which means, of course, that for most of the movie people are singing and dancing, which is all good and fine, except the songs begin to blend together after a while. There are some standouts, such as the infectious “You Can't Stop the Beat,” Queen Latifah's moving anthem “I Know Where I've Been” and the dreamy “I Can Hear the Bells.” Other songs feel like filler, which is not unique to Hairspray (I for one, think Grease would have been just fine without “Hopelessly Devoted to You”). Director Adam Shankman takes the humor and period details of the original film and the color and vitality of the play, mixes it together, and comes up with his own delightful concoction. Feeling down? Feeling blue? Ditch the Prozac and go see Hairspray, the feel-good movie of the summer. --reviewed by CARI PHILLIPS