If ever a movie were to be said to be hung onto the back of a solitary piece of music, it must surely be Gershwin's 'An American in Paris'. I doubt that this is the case but every time I watch the film, I get visions of Gene Kelly meeting Alan Jay Lerner for a drink and, as they are into their third of fourth martini, Kelly says:
"Alan, I have this great idea for a ballet for Gershwin's 'An American in Paris'; write me a schmaltzy script so that I can get a studio to put the ballet into a film."
There has always seemed to me to be a 'dream-like' quality to the entire movie which is not the product of a lack of location filming; it is almost as if the back-lots of MGM were purposefully chosen in order to 'mesh' with the surreal and cartoonish backdrop of the ballet sequence. The whole film, despite the arrival and departure of cars, the approximations to the narrow streets of Montmartre and 'la rive gauche', the fin de siècle apartments of Mulligan, Cook and Roberts, seem to be set in the revolving sets of a theatre rather then the living world.
It is quite clear from the opening of the film that we are dealing with an idealised picture of Paris; Paris as Mulligan paints it, not as it is. From the seemingly magical, but practical, way in which Mulligan's 'chambre' is transformed into an 'atelier' and the breakfast delivered to the door; Henri Baurel's imaginings of his love, Lise, and her five choreographed ballet routines of who and what she is not and who, more importantly, she is; Lise and Mulligan's first 'date' on the deserted bank of the Seine, surely at 10.00pm a rarity to beat all rarities*, has that ethereal quality of a dream; the dance without touching. This is only compounded by the daydreams of Adam Cook who occupies in his dreams the role of pianist, first violins, conductor, xylophonist and, finally, the applauding audience to an abridged rendition of Gershwin's 'Concerto in F'.** With such beginnings, it comes as no surprise, in fact it is almost expected, that the climax of the film should be the entire ballet suite set in a surreal landscape of cartoon backdrops and strange props.
Despite its obvious charm as a 'romantic comedy', its leading man and the ingénue, Leslie Caron in her first film, with her classically trained footwork and gamine haircut, still it is surprising that it should garner six Oscars, including best picture; not because it is not good but that for all of its conformity in places to the Hollywood ideal, still it seems just a little bit too 'left of field' to have garnered much support from the Academy.
Perhaps the only low spot in the film is the frankly awful rendition of 'I got rythym' by Kelly, who taps in his usual excellent manner, but is regrettably joined by a bunch of (American) street-urchins, singing 'I got' (leaving Kelly to add the rest) and singing and speaking the most execrable French!***
I was perhaps inevitable that the success of 'An American in Paris' should promote a 'sequel' or rather a 're-imagining' in the following year; almost the same basic story but different songs, different details, 'Singin in the rain'. Interestingly, given what I said in my first paragraph, there is an explicit credit for inspiration given to the 1929 song 'Singin in the rain' in the opening credits, although it is hard to see how the whole film could see that song a source in anything else but the most general sense. By grounding the latter film in Hollywood at the birth of the 'talkies', Kelly was able to rid himself of the dream-like 'fantasy' sequences of 'An American...'; they could now be shot as 'alternate takes' for a movie.
Although 'Singin in the rain' is a more satisfying, linear narrative than 'An American...', it still retains the long choreographed scene at the end of the film. While no less 'chaotic' than its predecessor, it features the divine scene between Cyd Charisse,**** Kelly and a long flowing, gauze shawl. This may almost be seen as a guerdon on director Kelly's part*****; Charisse was slated for the Caron role in 'An American in Paris' before she fell pregnant and thus could not appear.
Like many of my contemporaries, I eschewed the nineteen fifties as a cultural reservoir to be tapped for more years than I should have; In my late teens, I came upon William Russo's 'Three pieces for blues band and symphony orchestra' and subsequently to his 'Street Music- a Blues Concerto'; these led in a line, as straight as a die, right back to Gershwin's 1920'sballet suite. Intrigued by what Hollywood might have made of Gershwin's music, I watched the film. I was not disappointed but, perhaps more importantly, this was at least one film from the 1950s which managed to be somehow 'the same Hollywood pap' and yet inventive and different. This in turn led to my wholesale reappraisal of many other movies of that era, much to my benefit both then and now.
Ir perhaps says something about how 'unappreciated' Kelly really was, even in his heyday, that one had to wait until 1972 for anything like the same quality in the genre as 'An American in Paris' and 'Singin in the rain' to appear; Bob Fosse's 'Cabaret', based uktinately on Isherwood's 'Mr Norris changes trains' and 'Goodbye to Berlin'.
* The last time I was in Paris, admittedly many years ago, the banks of the Seine were scarcely deserted at practically any time of the night or day if the weather was fine! Once you have seen the film, it is always difficult not to emulate Kelly and Caron when walking with your lover along the 'rive gauche', whatever the audience.
** Casting Oscar Levant as Adam Cook was surely inspired. One of the foremost interpreters of Gershwin alive in the 1950s and an excellent self-deprecating wit, whose naturally acid tongue so neatly captures Cook's already world-weary cynicism at being the 'oldest child prodigy in Paris'. Levant made the now famous quote, following Marilyn Monroe's conversion to Judaism that 'at least Arthur (Miller) can eat her now!"
*** Of all the versions of this song, the one that I like the best is the version by Mike Oldfield and Wendy Roberts, sung not as in the film but as a harmonised ballad!
****I could never understand why the studio, or Astaire himself, favoured Ginger Rogers over Cyd Charisse who I always thought the better dancer. Not bad for a polio victim christened Tula Ellice Finklea!
***** Kelly shared directing duites on 'Singin...' with Stanley Donen, who later went onto to make another Paris movie; 1963s iconic 'Charade' starring Audrey Hepburn (sigh) and Cary Grant.
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