In the Spotlight: Musicals

An American in Paris (1951)

There is more to the movie musical than just a series of particularly happy memories. It’s one of the few peculiarly American art forms and, at its best, it certainly is art. – Gene Kelly, All Talking! All Singing! All Dancing!

Musicals are the Marmite of the movies. More than any other category in film history, people are not ashamed to brazenly state their hatred of the musical genre, as if every film that has ever involved song is somehow reducible to a flurry of jazz hands and saccharine sentimentality. And not just anyone, people whose opinions I otherwise respect. But what these people don’t realise when they tell you they hate musicals is that they often don’t; what they hate is the IDEA of musicals. The idea of every line in the plot being sung in a  nasal stage-school voice, of Andrew Lloyd-Webber, of period melodrama and piercing ballads. But remind the same people that musicals have been made not only by jazz aficionado Woody Allen but also the King of Grit Martin Scorsese (albeit not very successfully) and have covered subjects from the rise of the Nazis to homophobia and race relations and their opinions may start to falter. Not to mention the sheer brilliance of some of the numbers ranging from Tin Pan Alley tunes of Gershwin, Porter and Berlin to the Glam-fest of Rocky Horror, and the choreographic genius of Kelly or Astaire. In short, there is a musical somewhere for everyone.

Fred Astaire was persuaded to come out of retirement to film Easter Parade (1948) with Judy Garland. Watch them perform A Couple of Swells here.

I was weaned on musicals from a young age, my mother wholeheartedly endorsed (and actively encouraged) my first viewings of films like A Chorus Line and Rocky Horror which would form the screen backbone of my formative teenage years. Coupled  with hefty obsessions with both Marilyn Monroe and Michael Jackson, I spent an unhealthy amount of time attempting to learn the routines from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes while at the same time trying to teach myself how to moonwalk (don’t even get me started on the Thriller routine). I devoured films like Priscilla with a vengeance so strong that I spent a large part of my thirteenth year wishing I’d been born a boy so I could grow up to become a drag queen. And – yes, the confessions are reaching an apex – I joined an am-dram group that specialised in music hall and musical numbers to entertain in nursing homes; devastating when fellow students found out (think the ostracism of Glee but in a small fishing village on the east coast of the UK) but which contributed no end to my back-catalogue of Rodgers and Hammerstein lyrics (Billy Crystal eat your heart out). This experience cemented my pre-teen years to the point where my brother still finds it hilarious to taunt me with renditions of “You’re a pink toothbrush, I’m a blue toothbrush” during inopportune moments over Christmas dinner (I was the toothpaste, in case you were wondering).

Fred Astaire stayed out of retirement and went on to make The Barkleys of Broadway (1949) which includes the brilliant cobbler routine. See more here

As an adult I’ve learnt to embrace my love of musicals. There is nothing to be ashamed of in the sheer abandon and heartfelt joy of a tap dancing Ruby Keeler or Gene Kelly, the kitsch-fests of Carmen Miranda or the nostalgia for bygone times as seen in Bugsy Malone and Grease. (If you don’t believe me, ask Eva Wiseman.) And who can forget that the first talking picture was a musical, albeit one that continued the racist practice of minstrelsy. So you can imagine how my heart raced and my eyes lit up with unbridled childhood elation when I heard about the Gotta Sing! Gotta Dance! MGM Musical Season at the BFI that began last month. What better excuse, thought I, than to take you on a whistlestop tour of my favourite film musical moments.

Although sound was being used in films from 1927, for me the golden age of musicals was born with the formidable Busby Berkeley numbers in the Backstage Musicals of the 1930s. Above is the delightful Ruby Keeler in the title number from 42nd Street (1933).

Another Berkeley number – and here you can see his previous experience as a military drill lieutenant really coming into its own. Ginger Rogers singing We’re in the Money from Gold Diggers of 1933 which features a whole verse sung in Pig Latin. At this stage the musical numbers in films featured as set stage pieces,  spectacular extravaganzas like the numbers in a musical revue which reflected America’s Vaudeville culture. Integrated musicals – where the music became integral to the plot and the songs served to heighten and explain emotion – would come a few years later.

One of my all time favourite, and most underrated, musical scenes; the amazing cheekbones and gravelly voice of Marlene Dietrich in the incredible Hot Voodoo number from Blonde Venus (1932) in which she co-stars with Cary Grant. It also appears to have been the inspirational starting point for the milliner Piers Atkinson’s S/S 2012 collection ‘Hot Voodoo’ below

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers: the ultimate musical couple. I would recommend Astaire in Top Hat, White Tie and Tails, from Top Hat (1935) and also Cheek to Cheek with the infamous ostrich feather dress that annoyed Fred Astaire so intensely during the filming that he took to calling Ginger Rogers ‘Feathers’.

Top Hat (1935)

The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat from The Gang’s All Here (1943) will always have a special place in my fruit-filled heart. Just LOOK at it. What’s not to love?

Cabin in the Sky (1943)

Family-friendly studio MGM certainly threw some curve-balls in its early years (not least the dark masterpiece Freaks from 1932 by Tod Browning that featured a cast of actual sideshow performers). The studio also allowed Vincente Minnelli’s first Hollywood film to be its second ever all-black musical, the Faustian tale Cabin in the Sky (1943) that stars Lena Horne and Louis Armstrong. An appearance by Duke Ellington’s orchestra gives the film added musical kudos. Here John W. Bubbles, Fred Astaire’s sometime tap teacher, sings and dances the number Shine.

Meet Me in St Louis (1944) – The Trolley Song

While Meet Me in St Louis (1944) isn’t one of my favourite musicals, I do have a soft spot for the Technicolor re-imagining of the Edwardian Age (more on that later). But more importantly, Meet Me in St Louis marked the beginning of the Freed Unit, a musical production team headed by Arthur Freed that enjoyed relative autonomy from its parent MGM studio, and made some of the best known and most creative musicals ever seen.

Gotta Dance! Number from Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

An American in Paris (1951)

Very possibly the greatest musical of all time, the Freed-produced Singin’ in the Rain (1952) is as much a film about the history of film as is Billy Wilder’s masterpiece Sunset Boulevard from two years earlier. Gene Kelly’s choreographic genius is matched by Donald O’Connor’s Vaudevillian slapstick in one of the best comic pairings ever to be recorded on celluloid. Unmissable numbers range from the epic Gotta Dance! (you will never see legs longer than Cyd Charisse’s here), to Good Morning where Gene Kelly reportedly forced Debbie Reynolds to dance until her feet bled. The brilliance of Donald O’Connor’s Vaudeville background is evident in Fit as a Fiddle and Make ‘Em Laugh, while the title number Singin’ in the Rain has become a bonafide part of our collective popular culture consciousness. You may THINK this number is a hackneyed reference but actually take time to watch this routine. It’s incredible (and the fact that Kelly had a fever during the filming makes it even more impressive). Freed also produced An American in Paris in 1951 (again with Gene Kelly) – more of this later.

Anyone Here for Love – Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

Despite my adolescent obsession with Marilyn, it was the feisty Dorothy Shaw character that I really loved in the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (and again in later years when I read the book). Not quite sure how they got away with the flesh-coloured shorts, but any song that rhymes ‘muscles’ with ‘corpuscles’ is a hit in my book.

Jaan Pehechaan Ho sung by Mohammed Rafi has got to be one of the best musical moments ever recorded, in fact no history of musicals would be complete without a mention of Bollywood. This particular number, from Gumnaam (1965) shot to fame in 2001 when it was featured at the beginning of Ghost World (2001). But the movie – based on Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None – features many other tidbits of musical genius, including the psychedelic treat that is ‘Hum Kaale Hai To Kya Hua’ below. I’d recommend the excellent Beth Loves Bollywood for more on the golden age of Hindi cinema.

As no rundown of musical faves would be complete without Julie Andrews, I thought I’d throw in the Tapioca number from Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967). While it’s certainly not as epic as The Sound of Music (you could probably describe it as a ‘light-hearted romp’ through the 1920s), the brilliant colour palette and catchy tunes put it up there on my hit list. And I love the 1960s-does-1920s wardrobe.

The Jungle Book (1967) was the first film I ever saw at the cinema (and no, I’m not that old but I grew up in Suffolk where it was probably considered a new release). This has led to a life-long affection for the film, enhanced by my adult veneration of the great Louis Prima, who voiced King Louie.

Despite the Golden Age of Musicals generally being cited as the 30s through to the 60s, the 1970s – the decade of strikes, punk rock and the three-day week – is actually home to some of my favourites. Cabaret (1972) has to be the apotheosis of this, which is manifested in my Sally Bowles fringe and obsession with green nail polish.

Watch the brilliant numbers Money Makes the World Go Round, the title song Cabaret and Mein Herr. The content from Cabaret never gets old; I once watched a slightly tubby, bearded gay man reproduce this last number as ‘Mein Bear.’ It brought the house down.

Yes, I know it’s become a cliche. But The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) genuinely played an important part in my teenage years, to the point where my friends and I were able to recite the whole film word for word. I can’t help it if the first moment that Tim Curry turns around in Sweet Transvestite is still one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

Fat Sam’s Grand Slam from Bugsy Malone (1976)

I DEFY ANYONE NOT TO LIKE BUGSY MALONE. END OF.

While the 80s were awash with Irene Cara-drenched dance musicals like Fame (1980) and Flashdance (1983), my personal favourite was  A Chorus Line (1985), and the Dance 10, Looks 3 number (otherwise known as Tits and Ass) provided prime living room-prancing and lip-syncing opportunities. As a child and teen obsessed with the Golden Age of Hollywood and ‘Showbiz’ (did I mention the am-dram?) the trials and tribulations of an aspiring bunch of Broadway dancers was the perfect backdrop to my adolescence.

One from A Chorus Line (1985)

Just as everyone thought the musical was dead, Woody Allen came and resurrected the form with Everyone Says I Love You (1996). This is the film where you can see Edward Norton singing My Baby Just Cares For Me as well as ghosts at a funeral singing Enjoy Yourself:

Typically of Allen’s films it’s a love song to New York but it’s also a love song to the musical genre. And Allen pays full musical tribute to yet another of his obsessions, Groucho Marx, in the Vive Le Capitaine Spaulding number.

Musicals are part of our cultural backdrop whether you like it or not, pastiched in shows like The Simpsons and Family Guy (I highly recommend you check out the Stewie and Gene Kelly number), and have shot to centre stage once again through the popularity of Glee. Ryan Murphy, the show’s creator, drew on his own experience of being in a show choir and has expressed his desire to create a “postmodern musical,” even going so far as to cast many of the starring roles not from the screen but from Broadway. It’s easy to understand why Glee has struck such resonance with a generation who identify themselves as Gleeks. It’s only in writing this that I’ve realised how many of the films are  completely bound up with my own coming-of-age. It’s like the heightened emotions of a musical create the perfect background to the heightened hormonal experience of teenage life. And, of course, there’s the fashion. The team behind Glee have shrewdly manipulated the costumes to become as much a part of the plot as sectionals, Slushies and teen angst. Not only have countless Tumblr sites and blogs been set up to chronicle the cast’s clothing and where to buy it, but the marketing strategy clearly identifies fashion as a key selling point, the link up with Vogue’s Fashion Night Out being a case in point.

Although Sue Sylvester is the only person in the universe to make a tracksuit look hot, Emma Pillsbury is unashamedly my favourite (me and about a gazillion teenage girls that is). See more at What Would Emma Pillsbury Wear?

But this isn’t the first time that fashion and musicals have joined forces, serenading each other through a dance of mutual admiration (and I’m not just talking about Isaac Mizrahi directing musical theatre). In 1935 before the opening of the Fred and Ginger vehicle (and fashion fantasy) Roberta it was publicised in Fortune magazine that an armored car was sent to the cinema with a sign claiming, “$40,000 worth of gorgeous gowns worn by Irene Dunn and Ginger Rogers” (in reality the dresses were worth a lot less). And who can forget the hazy, crazy days of summer 2009 when the stores were awash with frills, frippery, flowers and flounces like a modern day boutique stocked by Rose Bertin. Leading the pack was Marc Jacobs, who took inspiration not only from An American in Paris (1951) but also (the soundtrack to my childhood), Mary Poppins (1964).

Marc Jacobs S/S 2009

Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins (1964)

An American in Paris (1951)

The frills and flounces continued through the likes of Luella, Fendi and Moschino, complete with a sugary colour palette and cascading furbelows reminiscent of Edwardian-set musicals like Meet Me in St Louis (1944) and My Fair Lady (1964), which was brilliantly costumed by Cecil Beaton.

My Fair Lady (1964) and Meet Me in St Louis (1944)

Luella; Fendi; Moschino. All s/s 2009

An American in Paris (digitally restored and re-released) forms the lynch pin of the Gotta Sing! Gotta Dance! MGM Musical Season at the BFI, along with the (also re-released) Meet Me in St Louis. Another product of the Freed Unit, it was inspired by an orchestral piece written by George Gershwin in 1928. Gene Kelly received his only Oscar for the film, an honorary award predominantly for his achievements in choreography. The film ends with a fifteen minute ballet – quite risky at the box office – and you can see how the flowers on Leslie Caron’s dress in this section seem to have had a lasting impact on the sculpted florals and oversize blooms from many of the collections for that whimsical summer of 2009.

An American in Paris (1951)

Clockwise from top left: Dolce and Gabbana; Roksanda Illincic; Fendi; Fendi; Lacroix and Moschino. All s/s 2009

Gotta Sing! Gotta Dance! The MGM Musical Season is running from now until the end of December, and is (luckily for me) the first in a three-year BFI series dedicated to musicals. Many films will screen in newly restored prints so be prepared for the sherbet colours to fizz, the skirts to swish and the toes to tap in all their Technicolor glory. Give me that old razzle dazzle any day.