Wednesday Movie - Singin' in the Rain

I’ve watched nearly a dozen movies since my last Wednesday review, and nearly all of them were worth talking about, but I never got around to writing about any. Some I vetoed because they didn’t grab me, but in other cases I just didn’t feel there was anything to say that hadn’t already been said. Schindler’s List, for example—what can I add to tomes that have already been compiled about that one? Plus, as Isha put it, “critiquing Schindler’s List is like critiquing the Holocaust.” So let’s leave that one alone and talk about Singin’ in the Rain instead.

Entertainment Weekly named it the tenth best movie of all time. So did the American Film Institute. IMDB users (a group rife with fanboys and gonads for certain, but not the worst judges of film merit in the world) ranked it 63rd in their Top Movies of all Time list. Does it deserve these accolades? Um, sure. Which is not to disparage it, but just to say that I’m probably not the best judge. While I like modern musicals, this old school, big production number, one-hundred-women-cascading-into-a-pool business isn’t my thing. Generally.

Set in 1927, Singin’ in the Rain deals with Hollywood’s coming to terms with the end of silent pictures. It stars Gene Kelly as one half of a famed silent screen duo who, as a result of the success of The Jazz Singer, are forced to make a less-then smooth transition to sound. While their first talky is plagued with innumerable technical difficulties, the production is truly hamstrung by the female lead and her horrid, yowling speaking voice. Enter Debbie Reynolds, dulcet of voice and fleet of foot, to provide a voiceover for Kelly’s costar and a romantic foil for the man himself.

What surprised me most about this movie is that it’s laugh-out-loud funny in parts. In a comedy this old, I expect to be amused, maybe in awe of how quick the banter is; I never expect to laugh. But I did here at, least three times—which is more than any Mel Brooks movie has ever done for me. Comedy aside, it’s worth seeing for three numbers: “Good Morning”, the title track itself, and “Make ‘em Laugh”. The first two you know, the last one you might not. “Make ‘em Laugh” is something you have to see to believe. It’s Donald O’Connor—the sidekick—just dancing himself to crippledom to get a laugh from his colleague. Amazing stuff.

And until watching this, I don’t think I realized how damn strong Gene Kelly is. He’s not your typical lithe dancer. I’m not overly familiar with Fred Astaire movies, and I know he too was a phenomenal dancer, but I can’t imagine the ladies going buckwild over him in quite the same way. Looking at Fred Astaire, I imagine that the girls marveled over his grace, and when they looked at Gene Kelly I think they first and foremost wanted to tap that ass.

Singin’ in the Rain flew for me, was just great fun, until “Gotta Dance” came along. “Gotta Dance” is a bloated, twenty minute schmozzle that grinds the movie to a halt about two thirds in. There’s neon signs, set changes, coin-flipping gangsters, a haughty gangster’s moll, and (inexplicably) a ballet dancer wearing an eighteen foot diaphanous wrap. IMDB tells me that this number is an homage to past MGM musicals, which is why I said I might not be the best judge of this kind of movie. This might be a musical afficiando’s wet dream. For me, it just served to stop the counter on my DVD player. I think it even went backwards for a few minutes. I just don’t get off on silly production numbers—like the ones where eighty women swim around in a huge tank doing synchro moves and forming geometric figures with their intertwined legs. (Except when they make a geodesic dome, because that shit’s HAWT!)

Anyways, see it if you haven’t. Skip over “Gotta Dance” and the experience will be that much better.