AmateurMovieReviews.com

Rating: * * * * * (Out of 5)

Singin' in the Rain is one of the most loved and celebrated film musicals of all time from MGM, before a mass exodus to filmed adaptations of Broadway plays emerged as a standard pattern. The joyous film, co-directed by Stanley Donen and acrobatic dancer-star-choreographer Gene Kelly, is a charming, upbeat, graceful and thoroughly enjoyable experience with great songs, lots of flashbacks, wonderful dances (including the spectacular Broadway Melody Ballet with leggy guest star Cyd Charisse), casting and story. This was another extraordinary example of the organic, "integrated musical" in which the story's characters naturally express their emotions in the midst of their lives. Song and dance replace the dialogue, usually during moments of high spirits or passionate romance. And over half of the film, a "let's put on a play" type of film, is composed of musical numbers.

Because the colorful, witty film is set in 1927, it humorously satirizes and parodies the panic surrounding the troubling transitional period from silents to talkies in the dream factory of Hollywood of the late 1920s as the sound revolution swept through. The film's screenplay, suggested by the song "Singin' in the Rain" that was written by Freed and Brown, was scripted by Betty Comden and Adolph Green (who also wrote On the Town ). The time frame of Comden's and Green's script, the Roaring 20s Era of flappers, was mostly determined by the fact that lyricist Freed (and songwriter Nacio Herb Brown) had written their extensive library of songs in their early careers during the 1920s and 1930s, when Hollywood was transitioning to talkies. The musical comedy's story, then, would be best suited around that theme. Except for two songs, all of the musical arrangements in the film to be showcased were composed by Freed and Brown for different Hollywood films before Freed became a producer.

The plot of the film is actually an autobiography of Hollywood itself at the dawn of the talkies. The story is about a dashing, smug but romantic silent film star and swashbuckling matinee idol, Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly), and his glamorous blonde screen partner/diva, Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen), who are expected, by studio heads, to pretend to be romantically involved with each other. They are also pressured by the studio boss to change their silent romantic drama and make their first sound picture. There's one serious problem, however - the temperamental, narcissistic star has a shrill, screechy New York accent. The star's ex-song and dance partner, Cosmo (Donald O'Connor) proposes to turn the doomed film into a musical, and suggests that Don's aspiring actress and ingenue dancer girlfriend, Kathy Selden (Debbie Reynolds), dub in her singing voice behind the scenes for lip-synching Lina. The results of their scheming to expose the jealous Lina and put Kathy in a revealing limelight provide the film's expected happy resolution.

Everyone has seen the film's signature "Singin' in the Rain" dance number at one time or another (even those who have never laid eyes on a full Hollywood musical). In the scene, Gene Kelly's character has just kissed Kathy good-night. In a classic, heart-lifting, enchanting dance sequence during a cloudburst, he does a glorious, almost five minute performance of the title song "Singin' In the Rain", a spontaneous expression of his crazy-in-love, euphoric mood and happiness over his new-found love for Kathy. The title song has become movie legend as the most famous dance number in American film, and it is Gene Kelly's finest solo performance ever, although he was suffering from a 103 degree fever.

Composed of only ten distinct shots (with a dissolve at its beginning, at the front door, and at its ending), Kelly strolls down the empty two blocks of street in the rain passing shop windows. At first he keeps his umbrella open above him to keep dry, but after a few short steps, he shrugs and closes it (and either lays it on his shoulder, swings it, keeps it to his side, or imaginatively incorporates it into the number). He skips on the sidewalk, exuberantly climbs on and swings around a lamppost with one hand, with his umbrella folded up in his other outstretched hand. He continues to saunter and slosh along, then jumps and tap-dances through the puddles, becoming more and more child-like. He lets a drainpipe of rainwater drain on his upturned, broadly-smiling face, kicks up water, splashes, cavorts, and stamps around with sheer delight. After twirling on the cobble-stoned street, he balances on the street curb like a tightrope walker. When a mystified and vaguely hostile policeman finally walks over to find out what he is doing jumping up and down in deep puddles, and looks at him suspiciously, he reacts guiltily toward the authority figure. (When the camera cuts from one view to another, Kelly's two hands on the umbrella change to only his right hand on the umbrella.) He slows down, turns, and answers simply: "I'm dancin' and singin' in the rain." He closes his umbrella, grins boldly, walks off, hands his umbrella off to a needy passerby and waves back toward the policeman from afar.

The sound effects are caused by the rain and the pools of water. There is a background noise of the hiss of rain falling, accompanied by the squelchy sound of the taps. This eventually escalates to the gushing sound of the water-spout and the louder, splashing noise made by Kelly jumping up and down in the puddles. Holes were specially dug on the sidewalk and filled up with water (six puddles), precisely where Kelly's choreography demanded them, and a lake was dug out in the gutter of the street. In fact, the whole number, which was shot out of doors on one side of the permanent streets built on the studio back lot (East Side Street), demanded complex engineering to deliver the right flow of water through a series of pipes for the rain and the downspout. The area was also blacked out with tarpaulins (rather than shooting 'day for night') and had to be lit from behind so that the rain was visible in the glare from the carbon arcs and to avoid reflections in the shop windows. (In the opening and closing downpour sequences of Rashomon, Kurosawa added ink to the rain to make it more visible and a similar method was used in Singin' in the Rain.)

We feel his joy through his singing and dancing. I am not sure how he could have expressed that same sensation through dialogue or any other way. In that sense, the choreography has replaced the words in the script, and the dance sequence is filled with signification. Each movement, combined with the singing and the background sound effects, enforces our sharing of his emotions.

Another amazing choreography is showcased in O'Connor's solo number, "Make 'Em Laugh." In it, O'Connor contorts, bounces, and flings himself around in a manner reserved exclusively for stunt performers in the modern era. Even more awe-inspiring, the vast majority of the scene is performed in single, uninterrupted takes. No camera cuts to hide transitions from one leap to the next: All are completed in sequence, in real time. The sheer energy of these performances, Kelly climbing onto the roof of a trolley car before leaping off into a convertible; the leading trio simultaneously walking across a couch and tipping it onto its back; O'Connor running up a wall and flipping over backwards, inspires comparisons with other great physical performers, from silent comedians Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd to modern day action stars like Jackie Chan.

This goes beyond ordinary dancing, just as Buster Keaton's antics go beyond ordinary acting and Jackie Chan's stunts go beyond ordinary martial arts. And, like Keaton and Chan, Kelly and company incorporate props and objects around them into their performances: a lamp-post, an umbrella, a dummy, curtains, a plank being carried by workmen, whatever comes to hand. It's a robust, energetic mode of dancing; and Kelly, with his square jaw and muscular build, gave dancing a more virile, macho face than debonair Fred Astaire.

What makes this movie work so well is a magical combination of factors that Hollywood never managed to bring together again in any other musical. Most musicals are stagey, artificial affairs, with actors breaking into show-stopping numbers that are only thinly tied together by perfunctory, even annoying plots. Characters are often one-dimensional, and can behave with jarring shifts in mood or motivation as required by the song lyrics, supposedly falling in love with other characters that they know as little as we know them.

Singin' in the Rain is so different. First of all, its song-and-dance numbers are worked with some plausibility into the story, which is entertaining enough to be worth watching for its own sake, even if there were no singing or dancing. And yet it is full of such joy that it demands singing and dancing; the musical elements aren not just tacked on. The characters are vivid and delightful, and the romance that develops (amid much bantering and posturing) between Don and Kathy is completely engaging. The film shines with the joy of performance; everyone involved is obviously having enormous fun and it is infectious.

What constituted the decline of the traditional musicals? I believe the traditional musicals have simply evolved into another kind of films, martial arts films. There are many similarities between the two. One is the interrelation between the choreographical conception and the camera. The framing and the editing are fundamental for the perception and the efficiency of the spectacle. We can also note that the framing will be tighter on the character to capture small details, but the editing should not destroy the initial movement. The secret is the continuity, especially when the main object of representation is movement, like dancing or fighting. The director, choreographer and editor determine the mise-en-scene when the fidelity of movement is absolutely necessary to a good representation. While the older musicals and modern martial arts films tend to favor continuity, Hollywood movies nowadays, whether actions or musicals, tend to have a different representation.

In musical movies, like in martial arts cinema, the best films have been made by the people who know the object being represented, whether it is dance or martial arts. These people often become choreographers or directors and they understand perfectly how to use the frame to emphasize their art. Moreover, most of them have their say in the editing. Gene Kelly was involved in many aspects of filmmaking.

The genre of movie musical has mini revival in recent years with the success of Moulin Rouge and Chicago. The newer films are more stylized but at the same time the actors' performance is minimized and other cinematic techniques compensate for that. The rapid cutting, the constant camera movement, and dramatic music and sound effects must labor to generate an excitement that is not primed by the concrete event taking place before the lens. In Singin' in the Rain, almost all the dance scenes are made up of just a few long takes, thanks to the actual dancing abilities of the lead actors. By doing so, it allows the movement of the bodies to take over the story telling, therefore choreography dominates over other filmmaking techniques.
Singin' in the Rain is not only the best of the genre, it is one of the best films of all time. It is almost flawless in every department, with every dance sequence transports us to a world of dreams. It is the kind of film that you can watch over and over again and still have a smile on your face.

SINGIN' IN THE RAIN, screen play and story by Adolph Green and Betty Comden; directed by Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen; produced by Arthur Freed. Running Time: 1 hour 59 minutes. Don Lockwood . . . . . Gene Kelly Cosmo Brown . . . . . Donald O'Connor Kathy Selden . . . . . Debbie Reynolds Lina Lamont . . . . . Jean Hagen R. F. Simpson . . . . . Millard Mitchell Guest Artist . . . . . Cyd Charisse Zelda Zanders . . . . . Rita Moreno Roscoe Dexter . . . . . Douglas Fowley Dora Bailey . . . . . Madge Blake