Screen Savers Movies » Musicals

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

Jon Hansen, Publisher — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 04:01:43 +0000

The one common thread between The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and most of the Hollywood musicals of the 60s is its use of dubbed vocals for its principal players. There’s no musical star here, no Astaire to wow us, but Umbrellas of Cherbourg oddly doesn’t really require one. The piece is so intimate that none of the cast is asked to “perform” in the energized manner we associate with musicals; there’s no trace of showbiz anywhere. The dubbed voices are good but rightly unspectacular, believably matched to the actors and their ordinary characters. The lip-synching is so impeccably achieved that the singing seems as organic as speech. No one breaks into song in this film because they never do anything but sing. With all the dialogue sung, there are no “numbers” to speak of; the film is sustained musicalized storytelling, a cinematic chamber opera. As you become absorbed into this world, you almost forget that everyone, including the postman and bartenders, is singing rather than talking. There is no dancing except for social dancing, and the plot being served is essentially a soap opera. How could the result have been anything but a travesty? Two key reasons for the film’s success are Michel Legrand’s rapturously beautiful and haunting music and Demy’s enchanting and voluptuous color palette, yet neither fully explains the unique magic at work here. What makes The Umbrellas of Cherbourg a wonder rather than a vulgarity is its utter simplicity. People may be singing, and they may live in a world of fervent color, but the story is acted and directed cleanly, naturally, and personally. The slightest overacting would destroy the illusion; the actors just had to be. This is an unusually interior musical, one in which emotional resonance springs from romantic clichés. Demy’s visual style may not be realistic, but his artifice enhances the simply human story being told, an acknowledgment of the intensity of ordinary lives. (Cherbourg residents allowed him to paint their buildings to suit his vision.) The color, the music, the singing, and the buoyant camerawork enrich the feelings expressed naturalistically by the cast, and the purity of the performances grounds the film’s fanciful trappings. The all-singing structure carries the advantage of obliterating those potentially awkward talking-into-singing transitions in musicals that can provoke titters.

excerpted from John DiLeo’s
Screen Savers: 40 Remarkable Movies Awaiting Rediscovery
© 2008 Hansen Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved.

Learn more about The Umbrellas of Cherbourg

Cover Girl (1944)

John DiLeo — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 04:01:07 +0000

With this picture, the forties musical seemed to have found a forward-looking identity. In its freshness, Cover Girl also sowed the seeds for the sublime exuberance of the genre’s best works of the 1950s. It’s not a great musical, sometimes it’s not even a good one, but when it works, and it works often, it has a kind of dream-factory vitality that can still gets hearts racing. Its impact would be felt throughout Kelly’s career, and it’s easy to spot its influence on specific works of his. It must be said that much about Cover Girl is conventional, even for 1944: the turn-of-the-century flashbacks, the backstage showbiz tribulations (even “Pop” at the stage door), the love-conquers-all notions. Yet, it’s what’s new about it that dominates: Kelly’s virile dancing; Hayworth’s emergence as a screen goddess; a terrific Jerome Kern-Ira Gershwin score; the stylized use of color; and the razzle-dazzle camerawork and editing.

Learn more about Cover Girl

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954)

Jon Hansen, Publisher — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 04:01:55 +0000

Unlike the other masterful MGM musicals of its day—Singin’ in the Rain (1952) and The Band Wagon (1953)—Seven Brides doesn’t have the satiric bite of a Betty Comden-Adolph Green screenplay, nor does it tell a glamorous showbiz tale; it’s a celebration of homespun values set in the Oregon Territory of 1850. Anyone who’s seen it undoubtedly remembers its magnificent barn-raising dance, one of the screen’s all-time greatest dance sequences, yet Seven Brides is every bit as winning for its story and characters as it is for its songs and dances. People fell in love with this movie because of its emotional pull, its character transitions, and the strength of the relationships forged. The smile on your face at the end of it comes primarily from the satisfaction of having seen its undomesticated “brothers” mature into good men. Those who find Seven Brides dated, and its sexual politics offensive, aren’t looking very closely; they’re dwelling on the bad behavior and missing the life lessons learned.

excerpted from John DiLeo’s
Screen Savers: 40 Remarkable Movies Awaiting Rediscovery
© 2008 Hansen Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved.

Learn more about Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

The Harvey Girls (1946)

Jon Hansen, Publisher — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 04:01:21 +0000

Instead of Meet Me in St. Louis’s 1903 Midwest, The Harvey Girls occupies a late nineteenth-century Southwest. This is a western musical, based on the real-life Fred Harvey restaurants that helped tame the territory, and the impact of the recent Broadway sensation Oklahoma! (1943) is evident. You can’t quite describe The Harvey Girls as a full-fledged, Oklahoma!-style integrated musical—one in which the songs advance the plot—yet it still makes some small strides in the genre’s progress, notably in its memorable “On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe” production number.

excerpted from John DiLeo’s
Screen Savers: 40 Remarkable Movies Awaiting Rediscovery
© 2008 Hansen Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved.

Learn more about The Harvey Girls

Lady for a Day (1933)

Jon Hansen, Publisher — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 04:01:05 +0000

Lady for a Day is based on Damon Runyon’s short story Madame La Gimp. Capra and Runyon are an ideal match, with their knack for balancing sentiment with humor and in their affection for underdogs. Runyon’s surefire tale is prime fodder for Capra, and the meeting of material and director produces a disarming work full of feel-good schmaltz and well-tossed wisecracks. It’s unquestionably the best film ever made from a Runyon piece. Call it Capra-corn if you like, but it was made long before the uplift in the director’s movies became mechanically obvious and more than a little smug (as in his State of the Union of 1948). Lady for a Day’s plot is a reworking of Pygmalion, that is if Eliza were a decrepit geriatric and a drunk. It’s a “makeover” movie, made long before that concept became a cultural staple.

excerpted from John DiLeo’s
Screen Savers: 40 Remarkable Movies Awaiting Rediscovery
© 2008 Hansen Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved

Learn more about Lady for a Day

Love Me Tonight (1932)

Jon Hansen, Publisher — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 04:01:11 +0000

Despite its predecessors, Love Me Tonight is one of the best first movie musicals. The inter-class love between Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald blossoms before audiences to the soundtrack of Rodgers and Hart’s original score, providing the perfect mix of familiar and fresh. And thanks to the expertise of director Rouben Mamoulian, the most essential part of this film–the sound–was able to reach audiences with clarity, novelty, and its own impressive cinematic prowess.

Learn more about Love Me Tonight

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964): The Rule Breaker from Abroad

John DiLeo — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 04:34:38 +0000

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954): Reclaiming a Classic

John DiLeo — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 04:20:45 +0000

For those of you puzzled by my inclusion of such an obvious musical classic as Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in a book about overlooked movies, I have news: the reputation of Seven Brides isn’t what it was back in 1954, when it was an unexpected box-office smash and nominated for the Best Picture Oscar. Though even its detractors recognize the dynamism of its choreography and dancing, Seven Brides has been unfairly victimized by political correctness. Unlike the other masterful MGM musicals of its day—Singin’ in the Rain (1952) and The Band Wagon (1953)—Seven Brides doesn’t have the satiric bite of a Betty Comden-Adolph Green screenplay, nor does it tell a glamorous showbiz tale; it’s a celebration of homespun values set in the Oregon Territory of 1850. Anyone who’s seen it undoubtedly remembers its magnificent barn-raising dance, one of the screen’s all-time greatest dance sequences, yet Seven Brides is every bit as winning for its story and characters as it is for its songs and dances. People fell in love with this movie because of its emotional pull, its character transitions, and the strength of the relationships forged. The smile on your face at the end of it comes primarily from the satisfaction of having seen its undomesticated “brothers” mature into good men. Those who find Seven Brides dated, and its sexual politics offensive, aren’t looking very closely; they’re dwelling on the bad behavior and missing the life lessons learned.

The Harvey Girls (1946): MGM’s Answer to Oklahoma!

John DiLeo — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 04:10:22 +0000

The Harvey Girls was Garland’s first vehicle in response to Meet Me in St. Louis, a movie hoping to emulate the earlier picture’s scrupulous skill in establishing a sense of place, character, and theme through music. It’s a boisterous, action-packed, picturesque, funny musical, and, though it is uneven, Garland holds it together with her unassailable dramatic and comic instincts, her soulful presence, and her immense likeability. Instead of Meet Me in St. Louis’s 1903 Midwest, The Harvey Girls occupies a late nineteenth-century Southwest. This is a western musical, based on the real-life Fred Harvey restaurants that helped tame the territory, and the impact of the recent Broadway sensation Oklahoma! (1943) is evident. You can’t quite describe The Harvey Girls as a full-fledged, Oklahoma!-style integrated musical—one in which the songs advance the plot—yet it still makes some small strides in the genre’s progress, notably in its memorable “On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe” production number.

Cover Girl (1944): Gene Kelly, Rita Hayworth and the New Breed of Musical

John DiLeo — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 03:52:28 +0000

It was also in 1942 that Broadway song-and-dance man Gene Kelly made his screen debut opposite Judy Garland in MGM’s For Me and My Gal, which shared Yankee Doodle’s black-and-white nostalgia for the previous war’s era (plus another trunkful of oldies with which audiences could sing along). It’s not a good movie, but it was a huge hit, establishing Garland as an adult star and setting up Kelly as a threat to Astaire. MGM didn’t seize the moment, dumping Kelly into a supporting role in the inane DuBarry Was a Lady and a starring role in the lumpy Thousands Cheer, plus a few low-budget war dramas. While Kelly was trying to find his way at Metro, the studio machinery at Columbia was putting all its weight behind a dancing beauty named Rita Hayworth. She had become a star in 1941 on loan to Warners for The Strawberry Blonde and to Fox for Blood and Sand, then back home to Columbia for You’ll Never Get Rich opposite Astaire. In 1942, she starred in Fox’s My Gal Sal, a Technicolor period musical in the Betty Grable mold, and was then reteamed with Astaire for You Were Never Lovelier, a pleasing, modest musical with divine Jerome Kern-Johnny Mercer tunes. As with Kelly, it was time for Hayworth to get a vehicle that maximized her potential and raised her position to the superstar level. It came for Kelly and Hayworth in the same package: Columbia’s Cover Girl (Kelly was borrowed from MGM). With this picture, the forties musical seemed to have found a forward-looking identity. In its freshness, Cover Girl also sowed the seeds for the sublime exuberance of the genre’s best works of the 1950s. It’s not a great musical, sometimes it’s not even a good one, but when it works, and it works often, it has a kind of dream-factory vitality that can still gets hearts racing. Its impact would be felt throughout Kelly’s career, and it’s easy to spot its influence on specific works of his. It must be said that much about Cover Girl is conventional, even for 1944: the turn-of-the-century flashbacks, the backstage showbiz tribulations (even “Pop” at the stage door), the love-conquers-all notions. Yet, it’s what’s new about it that dominates: Kelly’s virile dancing; Hayworth’s emergence as a screen goddess; a terrific Jerome Kern-Ira Gershwin score; the stylized use of color; and the razzle-dazzle camerawork and editing.