Submitted by
Roger Mellor
Original at
Film on Disc
Gotta Dance
Review by Stu Kobak
Creative juices can flow in most any circumstance. When the moment presents
itself, it is not always convenient to record your thoughts. An unfortunate
accident has introduced me to the wonders of computer notebook composition.
Bed rest will never be the same. Today, waiting in the hospital's ambulatory
surgery wing to get final clearance for my last surgery, an old woman limped
by with a walker. She bumped into my wheelchair. I noticed she was wearing
red shoes. I thought, The Red Shoes, what a fantastic dance movie.
Dance, movies, inspiration.
Nothing much. An errant step and an old woman trying to capture the flair
of youth with a pair of colorful shoes. I whipped out my notebook like a
gunslinger in a B western, ready to take on the world with words. I tapped
a tattoo of dance on the keys and began writing, choreographing my words
into thoughts. One thought exploded and expanded another until my memories
of film moments were sublimely stimulated. Before I knew it they were calling
my name and I had to close my notebook
Watching men with bulging muscles clad in tight leotards has never turned
me on. The ballet, and I have seen some fine productions, is okay. I can
admire the athleticism of bounding men leaping through the fiery strains
of Khatchaturian's Spartacus, but still, ballet bulges don't make great
entertainment in this quarter.
You might ask about the ballerina, fluttering over the stage on raised toes
barely touching the wood, legs exposed for graceful examination. Somehow,
I'd rather watch a sexily clad gal go through her dance steps in movie context.
So, how come I love The Red Shoes? It's the dance movie of dance
movies: ballet distilled on the screen by the directing/writing team of
Powell and Pressburger and even featuring The Red Shoes ballet as
the dominant sequence. The Red Shoes is really not about ballet but
artistic dedication and sacrifice, and what it means to succeed. Exploring
the pain associated with a walk on a tightrope of narrow focus makes for
fascinating cinematic art.
You could have taken all the dance moves ever choreographed for the screen
and piled them high into a mountain of celluloid waste before I was exposed
to Gene Kelly. And I wasn't exposed to Kelly in a dance movie. The Three
Musketeers was my handshake with this unique talent, a film in which
Kelly pirouetted his way through a series of delightful rapier displays,
leaping from statues, bounding over bushes, teasing opponents with the tip
of his athletic instrument into humiliating submission.
When Kelly sings "Gotta Dance," in Singin' in the Rain, I believe
him. After all, as D'artagnan it was "Gotta duel," and duel he did, beautifully.
Kelly's athletic style is uniquely suited to any situation and any suit.
Whether Musketeer, baseball player in Take Me Out to the Ball Game,
sailor in Anchors Away or On the Town, or silent screen idol
making the transition to talkies in Singin' in the Rain, Kelly's
a natural
In later years I came to appreciate the sophistication and sublime grace
of great Fred Astaire, but if it wasn't for Kelly, I could never have understood
Astaire's magic. While Kelly propelled himself over, around and through
the sets of The Pirate, Astaire glided effortlessly on his thin frame
up the wall in The Bandwagon, across the dance floor in tails in Top
Hat and through rigors of a sailor's garb in Follow the Fleet.
Astaire's magic was created at the wave of leg, a little stutter developed
into a gleeful assault of patter and pattern. Astaire was energy distilled
in its purest form with no residual deposits. Kelly was energy and vitality
in its rawest form. Both were masters on the screen and make watching dance
on film as natural and pleasurable as the best of film experiences.
Maybe it was the timing. When I formed my movie allegiances Kelly was lighting
up the screen and Astaire was winding down his brilliant screen dancing.
More than that, Kelly was the average guy, an athletic presence that a kid
could identify with, while the worldly and much older Astaire was stealing
younger starlets out from under the very lustful eyes of young men discovering
their sexuality. Perhaps we felt betrayed by the attraction of the younger
woman to Astaire. Most likely it was the physicality that dictated screen
appeal for young movie lovers searching for identity. Astaire was a slightly
effete presence and even his screen stepping was born on such sophisticated
wings that immature audiences found the artistry simply beyond their ken.
Everybody's seen Singin' in the Rain at one time or another. It's
a seminal Hollywood musical, capturing the carefree spirit of the young
industry when adventure pulsed through the creative celluloid veins. Hollywood's
changeover from silent flickers to talkies is given the best treatment conceivable.
It's hard to think of a more successful melding of music, dance and comedy.
Everything works with superb precision. The decisions are all correct.
Gene Kelly co-directed Singin' in the Rain with Stanley Donen. Kelly's
dance in the pouring stage rain to the strains of the old Arthur Freed/Nacio
Herb Brown title song is so blithely innocent, filled with Kelly's great
energy and personality. The choreography is elegantly keyed to the rain,
the puddles of water flowing through the streets like a river. Kelly closes
his umbrella, then splashes in the gutter, slides, kicks up the rain with
an astounding ebullience that perfectly represents his newly acknowledged
love.
This is not the only great dance moment in Singin' in the Rain, though
it is the most memorable. Kelly also choreographs Donald O'Connor in the
hilarious "Make 'em Laugh" number, featuring athletic moves, explosive energy
and every prop in sight. Later, Kelly teams with co-stars Donald O'Connor
and Debbie Reynolds for the charming song and dance rendition of "Good Mornin'"*
Singin' in the Rain is available in several editions. DVD is the
latest incarnation of this classic Hollywood musical. The dancing, singing,
color and overall intensity of the film are served well by the the latest
optical format. The remastered laser versions in CLV or CAV from MGM are
the most colorful, capturing the true spirit of the Technicolor era of movie
musicals. Several song extras are included at the conclusion of the film
on both editions. Voyager also has two editions of Singin' in the Rain
in their Criterion Collection. Colors are somewhat more muted in these
transfers, but all are very sharp from clean source material. Likewise,
the mono sound never detracts from the enjoyment of the production. Voyager
also has several song bonuses included and the CAV edition features excellent
second audio commentary from film historian Ron Haver.
You can catch up with Astaire by purchasing a wonderful box set that includes
four classic black and white Astaire movies, Top Hat, The Gay
Divorcee, Follow the Fleet, Shall We Dance. "The Astaire
and Rogers Collection" presents the premiere dance duo of the screen. Each
of the films is presented sharply on a separate platter. The source material
is excellent and contrast levels provide a rich stage for the dances to
reveal themselves in flashy glory. Astaire's favorite partner Ginger Rogers
is teamed with the master dancer in a series of movies directed by Mark
Sandrich. With Carefree, Sandrich directed the dance team in five
successful films. The beautiful black and white images are transferred from
uniformly good source material. The mono is clean enough to accompany the
dancing jubilantly.
Audiences loved Astaire and Rogers tripping the light fantastic together
from the moment they debuted as a team dancing "The Carioca" in supporting
roles for the musical Flying Down to Rio.
The four films in the box set combine mistaken identity, misplaced affections,
and simple stories infused with many comic moments to provide a comfortable
framework for Astaire and Rogers to show off their strutting stuff. There's
more than enough dance to fill a beautiful ing nues dance card many times
over, and the variety of circumstances finds Astaire as a sailor, a Broadway
dancer, a Russian ballet dancer (That's right, it's back to ballet) and
a rich man at play. The music of Irving Berlin and George Gershwin accompanies
most of the dances and songs with even Cole Porter's "Night and Day" survives
to debut on the screen in The Gay Divorcee. Each of the films hovers
round the 100 minute mark, perfectly timed for maximum musical enjoyment.
You can also catch the older Astaire in full color in his only pairing with
Judy Garland, the wonderful Easter Parade, directed by Charles Walters
with excellent energy or perhaps the remake of Ninotcha, the widescreen
Silk Stockings, perhaps the grandest reworking of a film into a musical
ever and a smashing showcase for the music of Cole Porter and the dazzling
step work of Fred Astaire. Easter Parade is available in a richly
Technicolor transfer in a laser disc from MGM. The 104 minute movie co-stars
Peter Lawford and Ann Miller. It's very sharp with fine contrasts and there
is little or no grain evident. The mono sound plays cleanly and lovingly
replicates the Berlin music and lyrics. Silk Stockings at 118 minutes
is filled with delightful musical numbers, including my favorite for the
laser disc medium, "Stereophonic Sound." Yes, the 1957 film is presented
in stereo surround. Rouben Mamoulian directed with a sure elegance. Cyd
Charisse teams well with Astaire.
Dance has not always been presented on screen in traditional ways. In the
1969 They Shoot Horses Don't They? director Sidney Pollack took a
most unusual look at dance. It wasn't graceful. It was gritty. It was a
pathetic exploration of the dance marathon desperation craze of the Depression.
They Shoot Horses Don't They? was a field day for actors showing
off their art. Gig Young, as the marathon MC, brought cynicism to screen
perfection, taking his usual light comedy touch and twisting it into a complex
dissection of dispassionate manipulation. Jane Fonda, as a desperate marathoner,
was given the opportunity to prove herself a major Hollywood force. Red
Buttons, huffed, puffed, and perspired his way to cardiac arrhythmia as
Sailor, another lost soul searching for the marathon's pot of gold. Here's
a fine film with dance as you've never seen it.
This special edition features running audio commentary from director Sydney
Pollack and a short PR documentary about the making of the film. Brief remembrances
from actors Jane Fonda, Red Buttons, Michael Sarrazin, Bonnie Bedelia, former
ABC Pictures President Martin Baum, Producer Irwin Winkler, and hair stylist
Sydney Guilaroff, are included on analog 2 of the laser disc. The transfer
is strong. It needs to be. Most of the movie is set in a dimly lit ballroom
in Atlantic City. The disc is sharp enough to clearly define beads of sweat
running down Red Buttons' face. Details are clear in all lighting conditions.
The widescreen image is framed perfectly in 2.35 aspect ratio and the film
is 120 minutes.
Most recently, the ebullience of dance was brought to the screen with a
totally fresh perspective in the delightful 1992 Strictly Ballroom.
Down under irreverence permeates this spectacular directing debut from Baz
Luhrmann. The divine comedy is a sentimental look, in broad comic terms,
at the world of ballroom dancing. Scott is a top ranked competitive ballroom
dancer on the verge of a championship. It's only his desire to perform fresh
new unorthodox ball room steps that has prevented him from winning a crown.
When Fran, an ugly duckling, blossoms in the glow of Paul's attention, together
they set the ballroom aficionados on their ears in a fabulous upbeat exhibition
of dancing.
Paul Mercurio and Tara Morice star as Scott and Fran. Both young actors
exhibit star quality that is missing from their follow-up films. Mercurio
chose the very unfortunate Exit to Eden and Morice was picked for
the boring and stodgy Sorrento Beach. "Ballroom's" supporting players led
by Aussie stalwart Bill Hunter are hilarious and the music by David Hirschfelder
gives the dancers the perfect rhythms to show off their talents.
Strictly Ballroom is a beauty of a laser disc. The music rocks with
big bass and beautiful brass. The colorful film has been transferred with
intense colors and is very sharp throughout the disc. Contrasts are very
strong, showing off all the glitz of costumes and ballroom dancing atmosphere.
Deep blacks and pristine detail are hallmarks of this laser disc. The upbeat
nature of the film is echoed by the fine laserdisc production.
Some days everything works, communication is born through the air waves
and sent to earth on beams of sunshine. That's the way it was in the movies.
That's especially the way it was in magic musicals with Astaire and Rogers
and Kelly and Hayworth and Garland talking to us with fleet feet gliding
across the screen.
Finally, if the films outlined above didn't satisfy your hunger for dance
on film, give That's Dancing a try. A compendium of dance numbers from MGM
films along the lines of That's Entertainment, the laser is available
from MGM through Image Entertainment.
[*Reader Mel Matsil noted I incorrectly sited Kelly, O'Connor and Reynolds
dancing to the "Make 'Em Laugh" number. Thanks to Mel, the article reads
correctly now].
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