by Chris Marshall:
Seven years ago (in Oscar Project time), I made the comment
that Going My Way was a kinda sorta
musical in that Bing Crosby sang a couple of songs, but it still didn’t feel
like what I think of as a musical; I said similar things about The Broadway Melody and The Great Ziegfeld as well. Well, 1951’s
An American in Paris fits all the
criteria of a “real musical.” In fact, there was almost nothing but songs and
dance numbers.
When I think about dancers in the movies, Gene Kelly and
Fred Astaire are always the first names I think of. Kelly’s Singin’ in the Rain is usually
considered the greatest example of this genre, but An American in Paris was the one that won the big prize. From what
I understand, it was quite revolutionary; people had really never seen anything
like it before.
But did I like it? I’d be hard pressed to say that I did. I
appreciated the dancing (and some of the singing), but most of the time it was
difficult to figure out what the dance numbers had to do with anything. Then
again, I suppose the plot in these movies will always be of secondary
importance; Marshall McLuhan famously said “the medium is the message,” but
here the music is the message. People don’t watch this kind of movie for the
story.
