Bob Fosse’s 1979 cinematic masterpiece, All That Jazz, is more than just a film; it’s a vibrant, visceral exploration of life, death, and the dazzling dance that fills the space between. For those unfamiliar, stumbling upon All That Jazz is like entering a dreamscape, one moment disorienting, the next utterly captivating. Like many, my early encounter with this movie, likely on a worn VHS tape, left an indelible mark. The image of Joe Gideon, portrayed by the unforgettable Roy Scheider, moving towards Jessica Lange’s spectral figure in a haunting hallway was both surreal and profoundly significant. It was an introduction to the unique world of Bob Fosse, a world intrinsically woven with his distinctive dance style.
In All That Jazz, Fosse, a name synonymous with groundbreaking choreography and relentless perfectionism, presents a semi-autobiographical whirlwind of movement and music. His protagonist, a director and choreographer named Joe Gideon, navigates the chaotic demands of multiple projects, grueling auditions, and complex relationships, all while hurtling towards an inevitable confrontation with his own mortality. This frenetic energy, this dance with life and death, is visually articulated through what we can truly define as Fosse Dance.
While All That Jazz garnered critical acclaim, including the prestigious Palme d’Or at the 1980 Cannes Film Festival, some critics initially dismissed it as “self-indulgent.” This criticism likely stemmed from the film’s close parallels to Fosse’s own life. However, Fosse himself maintained that Joe Gideon was not a direct self-portrait, but rather a character inspired by, yet distinct from, his own experiences. Regardless of the degree of autobiographical accuracy, the similarities are undeniable.
Just as Joe Gideon juggles directing a Broadway show and editing a film, Fosse famously balanced directing and choreographing the original stage production of Chicago while simultaneously editing his Lenny Bruce biopic. Gideon’s self-destructive lifestyle mirroring Fosse’s own, culminating in health issues, further blurs the lines between fiction and reality. Fosse even cast his then-girlfriend, the exceptionally talented dancer Anne Reinking, to play Gideon’s girlfriend in the film, mirroring Reinking’s real-life interactions with Fosse’s daughter.
Alt text: Anne Reinking gracefully performs Fosse dance moves with a young girl in a scene from All That Jazz, highlighting the delicate yet precise choreography.
Despite these deeply personal details, All That Jazz transcends mere autobiography. At its core, the film is a universal meditation on life, self-reflection, and the acceptance of death, all expressed through the dynamic language of Fosse dance. What could be more universally resonant than confronting one’s own mortality?
The film’s genesis itself is rooted in life imitating art and back again. Fosse conceived All That Jazz after experiencing a heart attack and undergoing open-heart surgery. Originally based on a darker novel titled Ending, Fosse ultimately reshaped the narrative, infusing it with his own vibrant, albeit frenetic, artistic spirit. Released less than eight years before his fatal heart attack, the film poignantly foreshadows his demise, his life bookended by the heart condition that both inspired and concluded his cinematic masterpiece.
All That Jazz stands out in Fosse’s filmography as his most personal project, the only film he both wrote, directed, and choreographed. This total control allowed him to fully immerse the narrative in his signature Fosse dance vocabulary.
We are immediately plunged into the repetitive, almost ritualistic, nature of Joe Gideon’s mornings, a montage punctuated by Alka-Seltzer, Visine, Dexedrine (substances Fosse himself was known to use), and the iconic mirror greeting: “It’s showtime, folks!” accompanied by jazz hands. This sequence, repeated throughout the film, has become a defining symbol of Fosse’s work ethic and has been referenced and parodied in numerous other productions, a testament to its enduring impact.
The characters in Fosse’s world don’t just move; they dance as naturally as breathing. Their bodies twist and bend into complex, almost contorted positions, all while engaging in dialogue or bursting into full-fledged musical numbers. Watching them, one can almost feel a sense of inertia for simply sitting still. This constant motion, these intricate isolations, the signature turned-in knees and angled wrists, are all hallmarks of Fosse dance.
Alt text: Roy Scheider embodies the energy of Fosse dance, showcasing sharp lines and stylized jazz hands in a dynamic pose from All That Jazz.
The film offers an intimate glimpse into Fosse’s life and the world he inhabited. If it’s true that filmmakers can never entirely escape their own perspectives, Fosse seems to embrace his wholeheartedly, laying bare his obsessions and anxieties through the captivating lens of Fosse dance.
All That Jazz is punctuated by hallucinatory musical sequences set in a hospital, featuring Gideon interacting with a camera crew, his ex-wife, girlfriend, and daughter. These scenes, surreal yet deeply poignant, feel like a descent into the subconscious, a feverish unraveling of the mind at the edge of mortality. These choreographed hallucinations, with loved ones singing and dancing to the rhythm of hospital monitors, are distinctly Fosse, yet echo the stylistic explorations of directors like Ken Russell. However, the unmistakable choreography and theatrical flair firmly root these sequences in the realm of Fosse dance.
Even in the sterile environment of a hospital bed, Gideon remains committed to living life to the fullest, flirting, directing, and maintaining his persona as the life of the party. This self-destructive yet alluring approach to life is vividly portrayed through his actions and, crucially, through the language of Fosse dance, which is often sharp, angular, and full of underlying tension.
Richard Dreyfuss, Scheider’s Jaws co-star, was initially slated to play Joe Gideon. When Dreyfuss withdrew, Scheider passionately pursued the role, drawn to its departure from his typical roles. Fosse admired actors he deemed “hungry,” those possessing immense talent yet to find their definitive outlet. Scheider, in an interview, confessed to watching All That Jazz more than any other film he made, consistently amazed by its depth and artistry.
“Gideon is the worst aspects of myself, theatricalized,” Scheider admitted, “By worst, I mean the most compulsive and obsessive. All the workaholic that’s in me.” This raw honesty, this vulnerability laid bare through performance, is a quality that resonates deeply within the film and is amplified by the expressive power of Fosse dance.
There’s a peculiar beauty in the collision of Fosse’s legendary perfectionism with the ultimate loss of control that comes with facing death. Despite our drive and ambition, mortality is an undeniable reality. As Ingmar Bergman astutely observed, death ultimately wins. Ironically, Fosse’s relentless lifestyle, his workaholism, his pursuit of control, may have hastened his own encounter with mortality, as he passed away at the relatively young age of 60.
Ultimately, whether the boundaries between Joe Gideon’s life and Bob Fosse’s life remain blurred is secondary. All That Jazz is a powerful and moving portrait of an artist grappling with life and death, a story told through the mesmerizing and unforgettable language of Fosse dance.
Fosse’s legacy extends beyond his choreography; he became a true auteur, seamlessly blending his dance expertise with directorial vision. His statement that filmmakers “reach to live a little longer after you die” resonates profoundly. Forty-three years after the release of All That Jazz and thirty-five years after his death, Bob Fosse, through his films and, most importantly, through the enduring power of Fosse dance, continues to live on, captivating and inspiring audiences worldwide.
