Singin' in the Rain: And We're Off!

The film-musical's beginnings: Actually, the first full-length film musical was The Jazz Singer; this cultural phenomenon is referenced in Singin' in the Rain, and Singin' in the Rain is a tribute to The Jazz Singer era. It was released in 1952 but takes place in the "flapper" era when films changed from silent to "talkies." As it happens, most of the songs in the film had been featured in previous films, and each song was chosen and set before the script was even complete; as such, the screen writers faced the challenge of creating a story that would successfully tie the musical numbers together.

KATE SAYS when I lived with my sister Beth and her family in Washington, I must have seen this film at least a dozen times. Consequently, I assumed that this time around, my viewing would be rather cursory--you know, it's on in the background; I've seen it so many times, I just need my memory jogged . . .

But the moment the film started, I was captivated like always. What a fun film! What impressed me this time is that although Singin' is an old-fashioned film about an even older-fashioned era, the dialog comes across as fresh, contemporary, and very funny:

Don Lockwood: Now listen, R.F., the owner of the Coconut Grove may do what Lina tells him to, but you're the head of this studio.
R.F. Simpson: That's right, I'm the head of this studio. She's hired! But don't let Lina know she's on the lot.

Cosmo Brown: The new Don Lockwood. He yodels; he jumps around to music.

Girl in audience [about Lina]: She's so refined. I think I'll kill myself.

This time around, I especially admired Jean Hagen as Lina. She has some of the best lines in the picture:

Lina Lamont: Gee, this wig weighs a ton! What dope'd wear a thing like this?
Rosco: Everybody used to wear them, Lina.
Lina Lamont: Well, then everybody was a dope.

Rosco: Lina! We're missing every other word! You've got to talk into the mike!
Lina [pointing at the bush]: Well, I can't make love to a bush!

The wiring-for-sound scene is one of my absolute favorites.

I think a few of the numbers are unnecessary (be warned: I say this sort of thing a lot: love musicals; always think they are too long). I listened to part of the commentary, though, and realized that Gene Kelly, coming off An American in Paris, was considered THE movie's draw, so he got showcased a little more than the others. From the perspective of 50 years later, what impresses me is how seamlessly the story and characters and numbers work even when they aren't showcasing Gene Kelly. Since Gene Kelly directed, that's kudos to him. 

And I like how quickly the numbers go by (except for "Broadway Rhythm Ballet"--representative big number of the 1950s). They are blended without emphasis into the narrative: scene, singing, dancing, scene. And the dancing is vigorous. I admired ballet, but I like my dancing to have punch to it. Apparently Gene Kelly, primarily a dancer, made sure that dancing got its dues (there are remarkably few, if any, numbers in Singin' where people simply sing to the camera, which is more unusual than it sounds with early film-musicals).

Apparently, Baz Luhrmann also admires this movie--he's on the commentary! So there is already one connection to a later movie in our list. (I don't necessarily recommend the commentary on the special edition, however. The commentators, except for Luhrmann, seem to spend an inordinate amount of time commenting on how young Debbie Reynolds was/how woefully unprepared she was, blah, blah, blah . . . from the point of view of current viewers, her "unpreparedness" is what makes her so fresh! And she may have come to the film a non-dancer, but she effortlessly convinces me that Kathy Selden truly does deserve to be a star!)

MIKE SAYS it's funny to me that one of the most acclaimed musicals of all time would be, in fact, about musicals, Hollywood, and all of their quirks.  Singin' in the Rain cleverly pokes fun while paying homage to the film business.  Perhaps the most amazing thing is the fact that such a film is now over 50 years old.

I first saw the film while attending a film class in college, and it was one of the few films I was honestly grateful to be introduced to (sadly, I can't say the same for Citizen Kane . . . ugh).  What struck me is that the film's humor is as sharp for me today as it was when it was made, which I gather is not true for every viewer.  The one liners, snappy comebacks, and puns make me laugh nearly every time.

Perhaps the only thing I noticed upon this viewing was the casual and familiar way the songs were presented, almost as if the filmmakers expected the audience to already be familiar with them. It was this style of presentation that caused me to look into the history of the music, where I found that, as I suspected, each of the songs were popular favorites at the time.

This simple fact blows my mind.  While it doesn't diminish the film by any means, it  seems that this is something I really should have already known!

Despite this, or maybe because of it, the film really is a marvel, and is a wonderful example of the "epic" film making that just doesn't exist any more.  It's also a testament to a different age of film making, when the actors were required to be talented in a huge range of entertainment, requiring dance, singing, and even high energy acrobatics.  That this can all be done with what appears to be just genuine smiles (even when the actors were ill and injured, something that happened a great deal in the making of this film), just leaves me stunned.

The film is hugely enjoyable even today, with it's technicolor brightness, energetic dance numbers and catchy music.  The story, as cobbled together as it may be, is surprisingly cohesive and satisfying.  One thing I really enjoyed was that the romantic subplot was largely over by the middle of the film.  Instead of dragging out the drama, the film quickly establishes the relationship and moves it along at a believable level, and it saves the drama for when it would be the most powerful:  the end.

The rhythm of the film is also a thing of beauty.  It starts simply, and builds, with the musical numbers slowly building in scope and frequency, until finally exploding in the huge montage of the Broadway sequence.  The numbers then begin to thin out as the movie winds down.

The quality of the film is such that modern films really do seem like monuments of laziness and short cuts.  CGI seems like a sort of twisted blasphemy when compared to the titanic amount of talent and work put into Singin' in the Rain.  For some reason, this line of thought brings to mind an image of Gene Kelly punching Michael Bay, or even George Lucas, square in the face.  While there's nothing in the film, or history, to suggest such an outcome if they were to meet, the mental image makes me happy all the same.