April & May 2016 Viewing: Garland, Brunettes, and Secrets

How I feel by the end of May....

April and May are busy months in my neck of the woods. While my tweeps are gathering at the annual TCM Film Festival, I am readying students for state testing and our end of the year drama production. May sees me furiously grading papers to meet deadlines and calling or meeting with parents about kiddos who may not make it to the next grade unless assignments get turned in. For the most part, I am on island far away from Tinseltown and its movies, but even the hardest worker is entitled to a brief respite. Here are a few of the movies I caught.

Post covers: Pigskin Parade (1936), For Me and My Gal (1942), Little Nellie Kelly (1940), Presenting Lily Mars (1943), Till the Clouds Roll By (1946), Gentlemen Marry Brunettes (1955), The Secret Garden (1949)

5 Movies on an Island

In honor of National Classic Movie Day, Rick from Classic Film and TV Cafe is hosting the 5 Movies on an Island Blogathon.

The Task

Pick five classic films you would want to have with you if stranded on a deserted island.

Whittling my beloved film collection to only five was no easy task. Which movies would I be content forever replaying in my head because I know every line and move by heart? Which movies would I want the full film experience? I needed some criteria.

Marathon Stars Blogathon: George Murphy

This post is part of The Marathon Stars Blogathon hosted by The Wonderful World of Cinema and In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood. You can read more fabulous posts by clicking here.

The Task

*To get to know a star whose films you have not widely viewed (max three prior to blogathon)
*View at least five of their films and report back

Who I picked and why

After consulting Constance Valis Hills' Tap Dancing America and checking to see if there were enough films available for viewing, I selected George Murphy for the Marathon Stars Blogathon. According to Hills, Murphy is one of the "Irish Princes" who brought the vaudevillian and popular stage tradition to the big screen. 

What better month to celebrate the Irish actor than in March?

Source - Biography.com

Torch Song (1953) ~ Crawford's Return to Dancing

Part of 10 for 2015
 
From the first number, Torch Song gets off on the wrong foot. While Joan Crawford's legs are exquisite, they dance to a song, "You're All the World to Me," already covered by Fred Astaire's feet two years earlier in Royal Wedding (1951). It's not likely audiences would have forgotten the number either--he dances on the walls and ceiling.

The opening shot of Crawford's gams attempts to establish her great musical comeback. The dance that follows is lackluster.

2015 TCM Film Festival ~ Day Two

This is a continuation of my adventure at the 2015 TCM Film Festival. Read about the first day here. 

Day Two - A Couple of Hollywood Gals

After our late night adventure, I was torn between sleep and Why Be Good? (1929) the following morning. Raquel's (Out of the Past Blog) review of the silent greatly peaked my curiosity in the film and its flapper star, Colleen Moore. The TCM showing was the perfect excuse to finally see it. On the other hand, my stomach had not settled since the drive down, so a good breakfast might do it well. Plus, I wasn't sure how mom would feel about seeing a silent. For that matter, I wasn't even sure how I felt about sitting through a full length silent, no multitasking, full attention--I had never done it. Was I ready for this big step? And my stomach.... I rolled over and went back to sleep. Coward. Oh well, just as long as we made it to:

From the get go, 42nd Street (1933) was my one non-negotiable, absolute must see movie of the festival. The thought of seeing those elaborate Busby Berkeley numbers on the big screen thrilled me. Not to mention Ruby Keeler dancing and Dick Powell singing. This is where it all started. The birth of the big budget musical. 

Unfortunately, the gods of comedy thought it would be funny to send me a screwball kind of weekend fitting of the films I so often enjoy. After waking up later than intended, I skipped breakfast because there was no way in heck I was going to miss 42nd Street. A few bites of fruit should do the trick, right? Mom and I rushed downstairs to wait for our transportation: Uber. The bustling Friday night life had been replaced by a serene silence--brrrrrumm--by a serene silen--brrrrumm--by the buzzing of jackhammers? Yes, jackhammers, orange cones, and men in hard hats. We were staying at hotel in downtown LA, and what better time to do construction than on a weekend when the week's workers were at home? Mom's cellphone rang. In all his wisdom of LA's great grid, our Uber driver could not find us in the maze of one-way streets and construction zones. Oh, and by the way we were carpooling, so ours would not be his first stop. Forehead to palm of hand.

Mom and I walked to the non-construction side of the hotel. As we peered at each passing car's license plate in search of our ride, the thought crossed my mind that we must look like the prior evening's women of the night minus the spandex. I had to chuckle. The Uber eventually arrived and dropped us in front of Grauman's Theatre. We hustled up the stairs and found our spot at the back of the line. Before the TCM lady would give us our place-holder numbers, she asked to see our passes. Sure, no problem, we thought. She took a quick gander at them and informed us that we were in the wrong line. Huh? 

I am ashamed to admit it, especially since much of my job is to read and relate correct information, but I misunderstood the perimeters of our passes. I thought all of the Chinese Grauman screens were included under the TCL Chinese Grauman Theatre IMAX umbrella. (This has been the case with the Fathom screenings I have attended in my home town.) 42nd Street was in the Chinese Multiplex House. Oops. I guess it was just as well that we slept in and missed Why Be Good? We were directed to the standby line where we would have to pay $20 to get in. If there were seats available. Bummer. Not willing to let this get me down in the happiest place on earth for classic movie fans, I searched for the sunny side of the street. According to the festival programming guide, there were 477 seats in House #1, so we should get in. And at least this would narrow our film choices significantly; we were only paying for absolute must-sees. No heart-wrenching decisions between two beloved films for us. 

Our line began to move. We were going to get in! "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" rose to my lips but was cut off by the words "$20 cash". Cash? What is this thing called "cash"? Mom scrambled through her purse and after a bit of digging, she fished out two twenty-dollar bills. (Thank you, Laura for your 'public service' tweet about the Egyptian Theatre's cash only snack bar. I relayed the message to my mom, which is why she had cash on her.)

Even though we were one of the last to enter the theatre, we found phenomenal seats. Christine Ebersole, who played Dorothy Brock in the Broadway version of the movie, introduced the film. She pointed out the play she performed in was an anomaly--typically movies pattern themselves after popular Broadway shows, not the other way around. The film was as fabulous as expected and worth the obstacles to get there. The dialogue was snappy and sexy. (For once, I was able to hear all of it without the interruption of children squealing through the room during the day or me playing remote volleyball* while the children sleep at night.) The pre-codeness of the lines had us in stitches:

Lorraine - You remember Ann Lowell.

Andy - Not Anytime Annie? Say, who could forget her? She only said no once, and then she didn't hear the question.

*remote volleyball - the act of going back and forth with the remote's volume: down when music is loud, then up when dialogue comes on, and down again when the music returns; ultimately results in missed pieces of dialogue
 
A lot of the fun came by way of the secondary actors, who made the audience laugh without saying a word. Witness Una Merkel's and George E. Stone's facial expressions (much clearer on the big screen than my YouTube screenshots), which tell the story behind their relationship. It's not love keeping them together:

 She wants to make sure he sees her among the gals auditioning. 

He does. Can you tell how thrilled he is?

She plays it off in front of the gals, but Una's facial expression shows what is really going on. 
She's using him for a job, and he's using her for some nooky.

And then there was Busby Berkeley's genius: 

Need I say more?

With a tender tummy and movie choices eliminated, it was as good a time as any to grab some chow. We headed over to Mel's Drive-In. The diner is modeled after the one featured in American Graffiti (1973). In fact, the picture at our booth featured Candy Clark, Charles Martin Smith, and Ron Howard from the film:

I soooo wanted a burger, but my stomach was having none of that. Instead I opted for the tomato soup and grill cheese special. Not bad for a second option. The food was delicious, the waitress hilarious, and the atmosphere had a vintage vibe. I would definitely go back.

Outside I was not feeling the craziness of Hollywood Boulevard. I needed a quiet place to sit and just be. And what better place than the watering hole of classic Hollywood?

(Okay, maybe not their watering hole--that would be 

the Brown Derby or Chasen's, but just go with me here...)

At last, our timing was perfect. The book signing I was curious about was in progress. I got to peruse the book (Mike Kaplan's Gotta Dance: The Art of the Dance Movie Poster), pick up some souvenirs, then sink into a comfy chair and relax. I'm pretty sure I spotted some bloggers, but felt too socially awkward to introduce myself. Besides, I'm relatively new to the blogging world and didn't want to interrupt their conversations.

After a while, my twitter feed was abuzz with people who were already lining up for The Apartment (1960)--not surprising considering Shirley MacLaine would be the guest of honor. Off we went to the grand Grauman's Chinese Theatre.

We snagged the last spots before the front line was roped off. The people who followed us would have to wait upstairs. I was an unashamed tourist, taking pictures of the theatre's exterior and the footprints below us. Mom and I visited with Lynn from Classic Movie Favorites who, as luck would have it, was standing next to us in line. Then the moment came. We were in the presence of a great film star. Shirley MacLaine. Wow. She was frank, funny, and did she say she slept with Jack Lemmon? Anyone else catch that? I digress. It was interesting to hear how the moments that unfold so naturally on the screen came to be. MacLaine shared how Wilder motivated her to tears by degrading her acting skills, and how in other parts, she pulled on memories of a bad relationship to help her emote her character's pain. This was the first time I saw The Apartment in its entirety. Lemmon, as always, was endearing despite his character's flaws. MacLaine's pain felt genuine. And Fred MacMurray? Well, he came across as the jerk he was supposed to be. I can see why Matthew Weiner required his Mad Men actors to watch the Manhattan apartment-motel movie in preparation for bringing their characters to life (Vanity Fair).

Monroe's dress from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

After the movie, we took some pictures of the costumes in the theatre's lobby. Then we decided to call it a night so we could wake up fresh for Calamity Jane the next morning. As we waited for our Uber ride--who for some reason could not find us although we were in front of the historic Roosevelt Hotel--I ran into Aurora from Once Upon a Screen. It was a real treat chatting with her. I love her idea of wearing twitter handle pins so we can easily recognize each other next year. She also gave me the lowdown on nearby hotels, which was much appreciated considering all of mom's and my Ubering troubles. We eventually made it back to the hotel safe and sound.

Come back soon for the conclusion of our TCM Film Festival adventure.  

National Classic Movie Day ~ Sound of Music

This post is part of the My Favorite Classic Movie Blogathon in celebration of National Classic Movie Day (May 16th). Click here to view the schedule listing all the great posts in this blogathon.
 
I have a confession to make. The Sound of Music (1965) is not my absolute number one favorite movie. On most days that honor goes to Casablanca (1942). When it came to selecting a film to celebrate National Classic Movie Day, though, I wanted to go with a movie favorite that embodied the sentiment of the holiday: one that profoundly affected my life. For me, that movie is The Sound of Music.

~Theatrical Poster - Source~

Now I know a lot has been written about Sound of Music because of its recent 50th anniversary. I don't want to bore you by rehashing information that has already been narrated far better than I could ever write. Instead, this is a purely personal post about how a movie has touched my heart through the years.

My mom recorded Sound of Music on VHS when my brothers and I were kids. It was the perfect family film. Because of the age range of the von Trapp children, year after year we had someone new with whom to identify. There were love stories for young (Liesl and Rolfe) and old (Maria and the Captain), action for the boys (the Captain versus the Nazis), and songs for all. We laughed together--sometimes at parts that were not intended to be funny (in particular, we thought the oldest von Trapp boy's facial expressions were hilarious). My brothers and I watched the movie so many times that whenever I watch the film today, I still half-expect a fuzzy line to roll across the screen where the tape had been stopped to edit out commercials.

"Sixteen Going on Seventeen"

The songs in Sound of Music became the soundtrack to my life. In grade school, our choir teacher used "Do-Re-Mi" to teach us the musical scale of notes. When twelve or thirteen, I went around the house singing "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" because I had a crush on a boy a year older than me. The song remains a favorite of mine not only for sentimental reasons, but also for the fabulous dance routine in the gazebo. (Come to think of it, this could be where my love of gazebos originated.) For those rough teenage years of feeling restless and out of place, "Maria" described how I viewed myself: a big contradiction. In young adulthood I hummed "I Have Confidence" during each new move and endeavor, and "Climb Ev'ry Mountain" continues to be an inspiration for every new adventure on which I embark. I expect "Edelweiss" will take on its own significance as I age, a final farewell song as it was for Hammerstein when he wrote it.*

*For those who don't know, Hammerstein was dying of cancer when he wrote "Edelweiss."

In addition to familial bonding and songs, I could relate to Sound of Music in a way I could not with other films. Here was a positive image of my religion and more importantly, of strong Catholic women. 

Mother Superior (Peggy Wood)

The nuns looked like the nun doll my dad had given me. His deepest wish was that I should become a nun someday, and on the screen was the process of how this was accomplished--along with the counterargument that not everyone was cut out for religious life! I also related to Maria's great love of nature. Like Maria, I found inspiration in the beauty of a mountain, meadow, and rose. Chills ran down my spine every time that wide shot of the mountain zoomed in on Maria as she belted out "The Hills are Alive"  (which, having attended the 50th anniversary viewing, is even more amazing on the large screen).

Finally, Sound of Music was the first movie that inspired me to go to the library and do research. I was twelve and discovered that the film was based on real people. I wanted to know more, so I checked out a book about Maria von Trapp. I can't remember the title of the biography, but it ignited a burning desire to learn as much as I could about the films I watched. It has taken years to get to this point, writing a classic movie blog, but it has been a rewarding journey, and I owe much of it to The Sound of Music. 

History per Hollywood & Dance Halls

With only a few days left until the annual TCM Film Festival, I have this year's theme, History According to Hollywood, on the brain. I go back and forth on my film choices, wanting to hear the discussion connected with the "herstory" films, but also wanting to see old favorites on the big screen. Since this will be my first time attending the festival, I opted for the Palace Pass. This means I'll be missing out on the TCM Club exclusive panel "Facts and Fiction: Whose Responsibility?" hosted by Jeanine Basinger (my author idol!) and Jeremy Arnold. Hopefully some of the bloggers I read will attend, so I can hear secondhand what was discussed. 

The films chosen for analysis include 1776, Young Mr. Lincoln, The Miracle Worker, Apollo 13 and many more set in an era prior to the film date. I am equally interested, however, in the way Hollywood shapes history through the portrayal of current events of the day. As one example, I think of the ticket-a-dance halls, popular during the 1920s and 1930s, but long since extinct. Lacking the libraries of in-depth research found on the American Revolution or Abraham Lincoln, we are left with the story Hollywood has bequeathed us, a few frames of celluloid, and Lorenz Hart's lyrics to "Ten Cents a Dance." Depending on the circumstances under which they were created, the story may reflect different shades of truth.

I can't recall my first exposure to ticket-a-dance halls, but I do remember being enchanted with the idea of dressing in glamorous gowns and being paid to dance. An added bonus: I would never be lacking a dance partner. In hindsight, my happy go-lucky attitude may have been naive. At the time, visions of a hunky Randolph Scott purchasing dance tickets, Harriett Hillard's bias-cut dress, and a dancing contest with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers played in my head. How could I have known any better? 

Follow the Fleet (1936)

Later I saw Barbara Stanwyck's portrayal of a taxi driver. The dresses were less fabulous, the shoes and stockings wore through each night, and the job zapped every ounce of life in the dancers. Stanwyck's character was hardened, but she found her "hero" on the dance floor nonetheless. Doris Day's Ruth Etting showed an even grittier side, fighting off a tough guy at the beginning of Love Me or Leave Me (1955) and losing her dance hall job in the process. Suddenly the full meaning of the Hart's lyrics began to take hold:

Ten cents a dance, that's what they pay me.

Gosh, how they weigh me down.

Ten cents a dance, dandies* and rough guys,

Tough guys who tear my gown.

*as sung in Love Me or Leave Me; however "pansies" is used in other versions of the song

Somewhere between dancing with Fred and fighting off sleazy guys is the truth about dime dance halls. Consider my curiosity peaked.

Since then, I have kept my eye out for depictions of taxi dancers. I plan to explore these in future blog posts (maybe a monthly column of sorts). On the menu is a film I caught in January, These Glamour Girls (1939) starring a young Lana Turner, and the short "Asleep in the Feet" (1933) which Danny from Pre-code.com recently reviewed on his blog.

I also did a bit of research on dime-dance halls, which yielded mixed opinions. According to some, taxi dancing was the positive experience I first imagined, where gals who loved to dance could make a better living on their feet than as a secretary, and out-of-town strangers could easily make new acquaintances. 

Fighters and sailors and bowlegged tailors

Can pay for their ticket and rent me.

Others explain that the dance hall was friend to the social outcast, admitting men regardless of race, ability, and occupation. Still others point out the presence of actual prostitutes among the dime-a-dance girls. If this was the case, it wouldn't be a large leap for the patrons to assume their "rented" partner--prostitute or not--owed them more than a friendly dance.

So the dance hall verdict is still out, but deciphering fact from fiction is part of the fun. Hope you can come along for the dance.

Sources

Cressy, Paul Goalby. The Taxi-Dance Hall: A Socialization Study in Commercialized Recreation & City Life. 1932. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008. Web. 14 March 2015.

Silverman, Justin Rocket. "'Dance Hall of the Beautiful Radiant Things' shows new crowd a really old-school way to meet." New York Times. 5 February 2014. Web. 21 March 2015.

Vaillant, Derek. Sounds of Reform: Progressivism and Music in Chicago, 1873-1935. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2003. Web. 21 March 2015.

The Temptations of Silk Stockings

This post is part of Russia in Classic Film hosted by Fritzi at Movies Silently and sponsored by Flicker Alley. To check out all of the wonderful posts, click here.

Source

Of the two films* Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse made together, Silk Stockings (1957) is by far the superior. This belief may be in the minority, but I stand by it. (You can read more about my unpopular opinion about their other movie, The Band Wagon, here.) Like Band Wagon, we are treated to beautifully choreographed dances showcasing Astaire and Charisse, who actually star this time around. However, there is much more to Silk Stockings by way of plot and subject matter.

*Three if you count Astaire and Charisse's brief appearance together in Ziegfeld Follies (1946),  an ensemble piece featuring performances from over a dozen stars.

"I've never known anyone to resist enjoyment the way you do." ~Steve to Ninotchka

The primary focus of Silk Stockings is the ideological difference between the capitalistic West and communist Russia represented respectively by main characters Steve Canfield (Fred Astaire) and Ninotchka Yoshenka (Cyd Charisse). Where Steve parties all night, sleeps in, and rents extravagant hotel suites, Ninotchka works hard, wakes up early, and lives simply. Where Western culture celebrates the frivolous, Russian culture appreciates the useful. Pleasure and entertainment are a way of life in the West. The film even takes a self-depreciating jab at itself with a diva-ish swimming star (played by Janis Page) and a song ("Stereophonic Sound") about all the gimmicks added to movies "to get the public to attend the picture show." On the other hand, Russians view pleasure as a sign of selfishness, and art as a means to publicize communist culture. Finally, the characters' clothing visually symbolize their core differences. The American and Parisian women dress in gorgeous gowns of satin and silk while Ninotchka's dress is simple, made of a drab olive material. Charisse's outfits may be missing the razzle dazzle of her flashy Band Wagon costumes, but her dances have more meat to them. In her first dance with Astaire, the audience sees a gradual shift in her character's pro-communist attitude. By next dance, which is rather sensual for the time, the metamorphosis is complete.

In addition to Ninotchka, most of the Russian characters in Silk Stockings wish to escape from their oppressive society. The three commissars (Peter Lorre, Jules Munshin, Joseph Buloff), who are sent to return a stray Russian composer, rejoice at the thought of a prolonged stay in Paris, dancing and singing "Too Bad (We Can't Go Back to Moscow)"--the highlight of which is Peter Lorre doing Russian kicks between a table and chair. If seeing the oft serious actor behave in such a comedic manner doesn't put a smile on your face, I don't know what will! 

Peter Lorre dances..kind of... Source

Even the new commissar in Russia seems to understand the boys' unwillingness to come home. He wistfully tells Ninotchka about his experience in Paris: "I got very close to the French people. In fact, they deported me three times." The sentiment reaches a crescendo with the "Red Blues" dance number, in which Russian workers secretly dance to jazz and lament their dreary lifestyles. 

If they are so unhappy, what keeps them there? One only has to remember the numerous asides throughout the film: if any of the Russians defect, death--either their own or their relatives'--awaits them. Of course, there is always Siberia as the three commissars explain in a song of the same name. Cole Porter's witty lyrics illustrate the undesirability of that option: "When it's cocktail time/it will be so nice/just to know you'll not have to phone for ice." 

"But this is an American picture. You're liable to have Napolean win." ~Ninotchka

Ninotchka's words are a bit of an exaggeration, but she makes a keen observation--Hollywood has been known to embellish history. Silk Stockings itself would have been prime material for some doctoring given the political climate in which it was made. It was filmed during the height of the Cold War and just as McCarthyism was losing steam, although the musical production on which the film is based opened in 1955 when Senator McCarthy still had a stronghold on the entertainment industry. (For those not familiar, McCarthy's hunt for supporters of Communism resulted in end of numerous careers in the arts. The evidence used against individuals was often flimsy at best.) Whether or not this played into the portrayal of the cultural differences is hard to say. Both sides--Western Europe's bourgeoisie and Russia's proletarians--seem to be extreme versions of themselves in Silk Stockings. Capitalism wins, but it also triumphed in the original version, 1939's Ninotchka (starring Greta Garbo and Melvyn Douglas)*, which was made a decade prior to the Cold War and twenty years before the McCarthy era. The self-righteous face of capitalism, Steve, does not go unscathed. Towards the end of the movie, Ninotchka calls out Steve's inability to accept her values: 

It's always your opinion. It's what you want and what you think. Everything I do is wrong. And everything you do is right. You leave me nothing of my own.

While the writers do not adequately resolve the issue, I appreciate that the inequity has been noted. There has to be a little give. We need to meet in the middle. Democrats and Republicans take note. 

*This is one of the few cases where the remake is just  as good as the original. I encourage you to check it out if you haven't already. 

"For the past five years, I have been assigned to the job of rectifying the mistakes of foolish commissars." ~Ninotchka

In addition to cultural relations, Silk Stockings also briefly touches upon the inequality between men and women in the workplace. Because Ninotchka is a woman, the male Russian commissar casually glances at her credentials and doubts her ability to take on a complicated mission. She points out that his opinion is based on her gender and that she is more than qualified. He finally concurs and when she leaves, he comments to his mistress that Ninotchka is not a woman. This is symptomatic of a general attitude that women who take their job seriously are somehow unnatural. 

Source

What is natural--or so the film tries to tell us--is the overactive male libido. Whether European, American, or Russian, all the men are chasing skirts in this film.  (Interestingly enough, there are several extramarital affairs occurring, but the movie does not play these up due to censorship. Listen to the dialogue carefully to see what I mean.) Additionally the lyrics of Porter's "Satin and Silk" tell men, "If she's wearing silk and satin/she's for petting and patting" and "If a woman was born a prude/she can reverse her attitude/if she's wearing silk and satin." Does this sound like 'she's asking for it' to anyone else? Yikes!  

Silk Stockings came to fruition at a unique time in history. It is squeezed between the McCarthy era and the Cold War, between a movie-going and TV-watching public, between the censored studio system and independent film making. As a result, Silk Stockings is a treasure trove of 1950s ideologies and attitudes across cultures and genders, from the workplace to the boudoir. And to top it off, you get Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse!

 

Source

Sources

Atkinson, Brooklyn.  "Silk Stockings: Satire on the Soviet." New York Times 25 Feb. 1955. Web. 7 March 2015.

Shaw, Tony. Hollywood's Cold War. Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press, 2007. Web.

Why I never joined The Band Wagon...

When I signed up to write an anti-Band Wagon post, I was a little nervous. Images of angry dancing gods Down to Earth-style popped into my head. How dare I speak badly about the pairing of two dancing greats: Cyd Charisse and Fred Astaire.

I have revisited The Band Wagon (1953) many times over the years. In fact, I own two copies of the movie--quite by accident; they were gifts from well-meaning friends. I know I should like love the film, but my heart will not obey my mind. Give me a couple peppy tunes, throw in a few dance numbers, and normally I am a shoo-in for even the flimsiest of plots. Why can I not get on board with this one?

I Feel Pretty - The Musical Side of Beauty

Keeping with last week's theme...

Movies have also taught us that glamorizing oneself is part of the fun of womanhood. Being a musical-lover, I can think of several films in which young women joyfully sing about the benefits of being a female--and a beautiful one at that. 

Here are three that come to mind:

West Side Story (1961) - "I Feel Pretty"

 

Flower Drum Song (1961) - "I Enjoy Being a Girl"   

Bye Bye Birdie (1963) - "How Lovely To Be a Woman" 

Kicking off the Holiday Season ~ Holiday Inn

It's Thanksgiving week which means the countdown to Christmas has begun (although if commercials and store decorations are any indication, the shotgun was fired the day after Halloween). While some might hum and hah like Ebenezer Scrooge, I am one of those silly souls who can't wait to switch the station to 24/7 holiday music, deck the halls, and compile the holiday movie viewing list. Since Christmas movies in November can transform my hubby into a humbug, the first film of the season must be carefully chosen. This means the flick cannot be strictly classified as a "Christmas" movie. The answer to this conundrum: Holiday Inn (1942). 

What better way to kick off the holiday season than by watching a cinematic celebration of the year's holidays?

Dance and Art in An American in Paris

Some love it. Some hate it. An American in Paris is ranked 68th on AFI's 100 Years...100 Movies list (1998) and 9th on AFI's Greatest Movie Musicals (2006), yet it also made Premiere magazine's 20 Most Overrated Movies list.

I understand people questioning the film's worthiness to belong to such illustrious lists as those put forth by AFI. The first times I watched the movie, I wanted to skip the big production at the end of the film and get to the final kiss. But then, I was in my early teens and impatient. I loved every musical I had ever seen, so it really bugged me that I didn't get the big deal about this one. So what did I do? What any classic-loving-girl would do: I watched it again. And again. And again. Maybe not repeatedly all in one sitting. Not even all in one month or year. But I persistently returned to the film at different points of my life. And you know what? Age helped me appreciate the musical in ways that I had missed during my first viewings. 

Over the years I have developed my own theory as to the significance of the film's last elaborate dance sequence--a theory that I tried unsuccessfully to back up with research, so maybe it's all in my head. But what I did discover during the research phase proved the artistic importance of the number nonetheless. Vincent Minnelli (the director) and Gene Kelly (the star and choreographer) intended the final ballet sequence to represent Paris as seen through a painter's eyes. Great care was taken in creating backdrops and costumes that reflected the various Parisian painting styles: 

first Raoul Dufy (1877-1953), 

then Pierre Auguste Renoir (1841-1919), 

followed by Maurice Utrillo (1883-1955), 

Henri Rousseau (1844-1910), 

Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890), 

and finally Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901).

In Cinema and Painting: How Art is Used in Film, Angela Dalle Vacche gives a convincing argument that the dance is symbolic of Jerry's inner turmoil over his identity as a painter. He is at a crossroads--does he accept the aid of a lady benefactress or continue to be a starving artist? The ballet, a dream-like sequence, gives us and him the answer. Lise represents Parisian art; she is Rousseau's gypsy girl in one part of the ballet and Toulouse-Lautrec's Jane Avril in another. By falling in love with her, Jerry chooses art over "the entrepreneurial aggressiveness of [the American] Milo" (27), which is represented by the women in red and white who chase him. (Even Milo's name suggests the statue, Venus de Milo, cold and without feeling.) Vacche reasons that this "suggests that an American male can be a painter in Paris as long as he marries a French girl" (27) although she admits the movie "does not completely resolve the rivalry between art and love, between unbound male creativity and the routine to which marriage leads" (17). Even in marrying a French girl, he is married.

According to Vacche, "Minnelli and his collaborators did not conceive the ballet as a story with a clear, logical development but as a series of psychic associations" (22). However, long before the convenience of the internet, I came to a different conclusion about the final dance production. Kelly typically tells a story with his dance routines, so it is certainly possible that his choreography had more of a plot than Vacche attributes to it. I saw the ballet as a retelling of the main characters' (Lise and Jerry) romance via dance. It begins with Jerry running through Paris finding and "dancing" with scarlet women (symbolically dressed in red) until he finds Lise, the rose among the flowers. She evaporates, leaving his arms full of a flowers. The dance transitions to innocent giddiness when he finds Lise again, Jerry in his straw hat with his fellow GIs and Lise with her schoolgirl friends. This is followed by a sensual dance, symbolizing the passionate side of romance. But I kept getting stuck on that white-clad version of Jerry with his silly hat. Then one year, I thought I finally figured it out...

This may get a little radical for some. Be forewarned. I realize now that Kelly is dressed as Chocolat and Caron as Jane Avril of Toulouse-Lautrec's paintings, but Kelly's choreography (we're talking all of the dancers' movements here) along with his and the women's costumes make it look like he may be representing a part of Lise and Jerry's relationship that could not have been shown under other circumstances. Watch it and see if you get what I mean.

Pay no attention to the title of the YouTube Video.

I am not alluding to Kelly's derriere.

The number says what the plot could not in those days of heavy censorship. As an added bonus, I discovered per IMDb, Leslie Caron mentioned that the censors had a problem with an earlier number in which Caron's character danced--in their eyes--a little too suggestively with a chair. A TCM article by Scott McGee also mentioned Kelly had trouble with censors in regards to her flapper outfit in the same sequence. With the last number, I believe he got the last laugh.