It is the moment the audience stops watching a trial and starts watching a circus. Honestly, if you grew up watching the 2002 movie Chicago, you probably remember the strings. You remember Richard Gere’s Billy Flynn bouncing Renée Zellweger’s Roxie Hart on his knee like a wooden doll. But Chicago's "We Both Reached for the Gun" isn't just a catchy ragtime number; it is a brutal, cynical masterclass in how the media manipulates the public. It’s also probably the most difficult song in the show to perform live.
Most people think of it as a fun ventriloquist act. It’s not.
Bob Fosse, the original visionary behind the 1975 stage musical, was obsessed with the idea of "the razzle-dazzle." He knew that in America, justice isn't always about the truth. Sometimes, it’s just about who puts on the better show. When Billy Flynn takes over Roxie’s press conference, he isn't just defending a client. He is rewriting reality in real-time. He turns a cold-blooded murder into a "tragic accident" of self-defense, and he does it by literally putting words into the mouth of the accused.
The Mechanics of the Manipulation
The song works because of the "ventriloquist" conceit. In the film directed by Rob Marshall, this is literal. Roxie is a puppet. Billy is the master. In the stage version, it’s a bit more abstract but equally chilling. Billy Flynn represents the high-priced defense attorney who knows that the "truth" is whatever the newspaper headlines say it is the next morning.
You’ve got the reporters—the "brethren of the press"—standing there with their notebooks out. They are supposed to be objective. Instead, they are backup singers. They repeat exactly what Billy tells them to repeat.
"Understandable, understandable / Yes, it's perfectly understandable / Comprehensible, comprehensible / Not at all reprehensible / It's perfectly understandable."
Listen to those lyrics by Fred Ebb. They are rhythmic brainwashing. By the end of the number, the reporters are so caught up in the melody and the spectacle that they aren't even asking questions anymore. They are just shouting "the gun!" in unison. It’s a terrifyingly accurate depiction of how a narrative takes hold. Once the press decides a story is "understandable," the actual facts of the case—like the fact that Roxie shot an unarmed man in the back—basically cease to exist.
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Why the "Puppet" Metaphor Still Stings
There is a reason why Chicago's "We Both Reached for the Gun" feels just as relevant in 2026 as it did in the 70s or the early 2000s. We live in the era of the "spin."
Billy Flynn is the ancestor of the modern PR crisis manager. He knows that Roxie is, frankly, not very bright. If she speaks for herself, she’ll hang. So, he shuts her up. He turns her into a silent, wide-eyed waif. This is a tactic used in real-life high-profile trials all the time. Think about the "character makeover." The defendant trades the leather jacket for a cardigan. They sit silently while a charismatic lawyer tells a story about their "difficult childhood" or a "moment of panic."
Roxie’s transformation during this song is complete. She goes from a guilty woman to a victim of "The Examiner." And the public eats it up because the song is a bop. That’s the genius of Kander and Ebb’s songwriting. They make you tap your feet to a lie.
The Technical Nightmare of the Performance
If you talk to any actor who has played Billy Flynn, they’ll tell you this song is a beast.
- The breath control required for the long, sustained notes while dancing is intense.
- The actor playing Roxie has to maintain a completely dead-eyed, mechanical physical state.
- The "Mary Sunshine" high note at the end usually brings the house down, but the real heavy lifting is the rapid-fire patter.
In the 2002 film, Christine Baranski’s Mary Sunshine hits a glass-shattering note that signals the total surrender of the press to Billy’s narrative. It is the peak of the "razzle dazzle." By the time the song ends, the "gun" has become a mythical object. It doesn't matter whose gun it was. It only matters that Billy said they both reached for it.
The choreography is jagged. It’s Fosse-style, even when it’s not literal Fosse. It’s all about small, controlled movements that feel slightly "off." It’s meant to make the audience feel a little greasy for liking it so much. You are watching a man obstruct justice, and you’re cheering for him.
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Real World Parallels: Truth vs. Narrative
The song was actually inspired by real-life events in 1920s Chicago. Maurine Dallas Watkins, the journalist who wrote the original play the musical is based on, was covering the trials of Beulah Annan and Belva Gaertner. These were the "jazz slayers."
Watkins was cynical. She saw how pretty women were acquitted by all-male juries simply because they looked "innocent" or put on a good show. In the real Beulah Annan case (the inspiration for Roxie), the story changed multiple times. First, she confessed. Then, she claimed self-defense. Then, she claimed she didn't remember.
In Chicago's "We Both Reached for the Gun," Billy Flynn synthesizes all those messy lies into one clean, catchy hook. He realizes that the public doesn't want nuance. They want a "both sides" narrative that allows them to feel okay about an acquittal.
It’s the same thing we see in modern trial-by-social-media. A 15-second clip on TikTok can change the entire public perception of a court case regardless of the evidence presented in the actual courtroom. Billy Flynn didn't have TikTok, but he had the "penny press," and he played it like a violin.
The Legacy of the Song
When people talk about Chicago, they usually bring up "All That Jazz" or the "Cell Block Tango." Those are great, obviously. But "We Both Reached for the Gun" is the intellectual engine of the show. Without it, Roxie is just a murderer. With it, she becomes a star.
It exposes the transaction between the criminal and the public. We provide the attention; they provide the entertainment. If the entertainment is good enough, we stop caring about the crime.
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The song ends with a frenzy. The reporters are dancing. Billy is triumphant. Roxie is finally "famous," which is all she ever wanted anyway. The actual victim, Fred Casely, is long forgotten. He’s just a footnote in a spectacular dance number.
How to Truly Appreciate This Scene
Next time you watch this sequence, don't just look at the dancing.
Look at the eyes of the reporters. Watch how they stop writing in their pads and start looking at Billy for cues. Notice how Roxie’s mouth moves perfectly in sync with Billy’s voice, showing her total loss of agency—and her total willingness to lose it if it means staying out of jail.
- Watch for the "Mary Sunshine" Reveal: In many productions, the reporter Mary Sunshine is portrayed in a way that highlights the absurdity of the "sympathetic" journalist.
- Listen to the Tempo: The song speeds up as the lie becomes more "accepted." By the end, the truth is moving too fast for anyone to catch.
- Analyze the Lyrics: Look for the words Billy uses to describe the victim versus the words he uses for Roxie. It’s a textbook lesson in linguistic framing.
The brilliance of the scene is that it tells you exactly what it's doing while it's doing it. Billy Flynn tells you he’s going to "razzle dazzle" you, and then he does. And you love him for it. That’s the most "Chicago" thing about the whole show. It’s not about being a good person; it’s about being a good act.
If you want to understand the intersection of crime, media, and celebrity, stop reading legal textbooks. Just watch the puppet show. It tells you everything you need to know about how the world really works when the cameras are on and the stakes are high.
For anyone looking to dive deeper into the historical accuracy of the show, researching the 1924 trials of Beulah Annan and Belva Gaertner provides a stark look at the "Cook County" justice system that birthed these characters. You can also compare the 1975 original Broadway cast recording with the 2002 film soundtrack to see how the orchestration evolved to emphasize the "circus" atmosphere of the press conference.
The next step for a true fan is to look at the "Razzle Dazzle" number immediately following the trial scene. It serves as the thematic bookend to the "Gun" song, confirming that the entire legal process has been successfully converted into a vaudeville routine. Analyzing these two songs together reveals the full scope of the show’s critique of the American legal system.