Rogers is Roxie Hart, a brash, perpetual gum-chewer, who admits to a murder that was obviously committed by her weak, rat-fink husband. Not, however, the story of a strong woman sacrificing herself on the altar of love and marital devotion, but that of a sly minx, banking on attracting invaluable publicity for her so far non-existent dancing career. This long shot in the name of ambition is based on the premise that 'a Chicago jury would never convict a pretty woman'; an over-riding vein of cynicism that filters down from the gaggle of fickle press scribblers, interested only in hot news, never the truth, to the posturing defence counsel, who never defend the innocent. The total lunacy culminates in a courtroom melodrama with a difference, where Roxie crosses and uncrosses her legs for the jury's benefit, faints, cries, but always manages a radiant smile for the courtroom photographers, and where justice ultimately depends on the wrinkling of a pert nose. Subversive, outrageous, but always very funny.