Summer Stock

Summer Stock

1950

Director: Charles Walters

Starring: Gene Kelly, Judy Garland, Eddie Bracken, Phil Silvers

I make no secret of my love of musicals.  MGM musicals of the forties and fifties are like crack to me. They will always be there for me.  They will always make me happy.  I can watch them a hundred times (and I have) and they won’t get old.

So I thought writing about some of my favorite non-list musicals might not be a bad idea. 

I know that I alienated nearly all of my regular readers with the preceding paragraphs, but, well, I’ve had a really rough year and MGM musicals make me happy.  Consider yourself warned.

Jane Falbury (Garland) is the beleaguered Falbury sister who is stuck running the family farm while younger sister Abigail runs around chasing her dreams of being on the stage.  When Abigail, on a whim, brings an entire Off-Broadway show to the Falbury Farm with the idea of putting on the show on Jane’s premises, Jane balks at first, but Abigail’s boyfriend and show director Joe Ross (Kelly) convince her to allow the show biz folks to stay by providing Jane with necessary cheap farm labor in between rehearsals.  Sparks fly between Jane and Joe, but Jane’s fiancé Orville (Bracken) and the fact that Joe is somewhat engaged to Jane’s sister are pretty big barriers.  When Jane shows a hidden predilection for the stage, though, nothing can get in the way of true love.

Gene Kelly.  Gene Kelly.  Gene Kelly.  Judy Garland.  Gene Kelly AND Judy Garland.

Jesus Christ, I never stood a chance.

The plot of Summer Stock is not why one watches Summer Stock.  It’s simplistic at best and requires more than a little suspension of disbelief.  It’s one of the ultimate “let’s put on a show” musicals, a gag that was getting whiskers even in 1950.

But Gene Kelly.  And Judy Garland.  Falling hopelessly in love with each other.  While singing and dancing. 

Of all the gags in musicals, the “let’s put on a show” bit is not my favorite – even *I* admit it’s a bit silly – but… Gene Kelly is SO pretty.  Were it not for him (and Judy), I would undoubtedly not be speaking so fondly of Summer Stock.  For those keeping a record, he (along with Cary Grant) are in my Holy Trinity of Sexiest Classic Hollywood Actors.  My feelings for Gene Kelly run deep, and looking back at my childhood, I’m pretty sure he’s the first adult actor (by that I mean not a teen heartthrob) that I had a crush on.  My tag for him on tumblr is “eternal crush on Gene Kelly” because in the twenty-plus years I’ve been watching Gene Kelly movies, I have never not been in love with him. 

And my goodness, if you love Gene Kelly, you NEED to put this movie in your eyeballs as soon as possible.

Reasons why Gene Kelly was never sexier than as Joe Ross in Summer Stock:

1.  Quite literally, he spends the ENTIRE movie with either rolled up shirt sleeves or super tight short sleeves that show off his ridiculously sexy arms the ENTIRE TIME.  I wish men realized just how sexy rolled up shirt sleeves are.  Every time my husband comes home with rolled up shirt sleeves because it was hot at work, I want to jump his bones.  Men, listen up: no matter your body type, ROLLED UP SHIRT SLEEVES.  It works.  It’s a godsend.  And in this movie, ladies (and some gents, I’m sure), you get your fill of Gene in tight rolled up shirt sleeves.  Unnnnnnnnnf…

2.  Jeans.  He wears JEANS.  JEANS.  ROLLED UP JEANS WITH LOAFERS.  Gene Kelly was certainly known for being a bit more down-and-dirty than his cohort Fred Astaire, but still, he rarely wore jeans.  HE DOES HERE.  And if you don’t understand why I find that so ridiculously attractive, then I’m sorry, I can’t explain it to you.  BECAUSE JEANS.  ON GENE KELLY.  KILL ME NOW.

3. He does quite a lot of macking.  For the first half of the film, when his character is still pretty devoted to Abigail, every time they are in the same room, they greet one another by making out for as long as the Hays Code would allow.  And in the second half of the film, he finally gets to start macking on Judy Garland.  There is a LOT of kissing Gene Kelly in this flick.  GOD BLESS. 

4.  Joe Ross is quite possibly the sweetest character Kelly ever played.  In most of his musicals, Kelly’s character usually has some slightly dark or even misogynistic streak.  In both On the Town and Anchors Aweigh, for example, he plays a sailor intent on getting as much booty as he possibly can until the right girl wins his heart.  Even in Singin’ in the Rain, his character is called out for being egotistical at the beginning of the film.  In nearly all the other films I’ve seen of his, Kelly’s character is one who starts out as brash/arrogant/egotistical until he meets The One Girl who wins his heart and changes his ways.  But not so in Summer Stock.  As Joe Ross, he starts as so ridiculously, endearingly honest and kind and caring that we know from the get go that silly, materialistic Abigail is NOT right for him, that only honest, kind, and caring Jane will do.  He’s so winning from the get go, he’s practically the epitome of Prince Charming.  Joe Ross, as a character, is basically a female wet dream written into one person.  He tells Jane that he won’t marry her sister unless he can guarantee their financial stability.  STAHP IT YOU’RE KILLING ME.  He is overcome with guilt by his feelings for Jane due to his obligation to Abigail and doesn’t want to hurt either lady.  DEAD I AM DEAD YOU DEADED ME.  It’s only when Jane effectively ends her “relationship” with Orville, and when Abigail runs away from the show and Joe (oh sorry, spoilers?  Eh, I don’t care, the movie is 65 years old) that Joe finally feels alright with making a move on Jane.  I adore a man with principle and holy crap, but Joe has principle.

Okay, so I have an undying obsession with Gene Kelly.  But believe it or not, he’s not the only reason to watch this movie (if you like musicals.  Because if you don’t like musicals, just give the whole thing a pass).

Oh dear lord the chest hair.

Judy Garland.

Yes, I love Gene Kelly, but I also love Judy Garland.  And not the Judy from The Wizard of Oz (which, ironically, is probably my least favorite Garland flick).  No, I love the Judy Garland from other movie musicals, the one who was allowed to be an adult and allowed to have breasts and play the breathy, shaky female lead love interest.  Judy Garland had such irrefutable star quality.  I once read a quote that said that she was the only dancing partner Gene Kelly ever had who drew your eyes to her more than to him (debatable, given my obsession with Kelly, but I get the gist of the argument and it’s a valid point).  In Summer Stock, Garland is just as luminous as always.  And yes, although she was going through personal hell off screen during the filming, it doesn’t show on the screen.  She is so pretty, so gorgeous, so loveable, I just want to take her and cuddle her and tell her it will be alright.  I could get lost in those big, beautiful brown eyes.

And shut up about pairing Judy with Gene.  Take a male actor I am desperately in love with and put him up against a female actress who brims with gorgeous geniality, and I’m a goner.  The internet even informs me that there’s a name for the pair of Judy Garland and Gene Kelly: Jugenea.  Apparently.  Well, whatever the name is, Judy is easily my favorite pairing for Gene Kelly, probably because she has such inherent star quality in her to provide a suitable pairing to his RIDICULOUS SEXINESS. 

The dancing is top-notch, but I wouldn’t expect any less from a Gene Kelly musical.  His first number, Dig for Your Dinner, is a Kelly solo, and god bless for that.  His dancing duet with Judy, Portland Fancy, at the local dance, is so ridiculously cute and sweet you’ll get tooth decay.  But the two show stoppers are later solo numbers.  The first is the obvious Get Happy, Garland’s defining moment in more ways than one, where Jane finally embraces her interest in the stage and performs in the production with all the gusto that we expect from Judy.  Judy Garland has never been sexier than she is in that number, wearing a smart costume of suit jacket and little else, letting her legs stretch on forever.  If Summer Stock is remembered for nothing else, it will be that number, and rightfully so.  It’s iconic.  The other show stopper is Kelly’s later solo, You, Beautiful You, a gorgeous empty-stage piece where Joe just can’t help but dance about his feeling after having first kissed Jane.  Kelly choreographed the piece and it shows the brilliance that was to come a few years later in Singin’ in the Rain.  Kelly needs only a creaky floorboard and a few sheets of newspaper to make an utterly beguiling dance number, one that even Steve at 1001plus likes!  Seriously, if you like musicals, Summer Stock delivers on the musical number side.

And that’s just Gene and Judy.  Phil Silvers and especially Eddie Bracken are such superb comic relief in this film.  Eddie Bracken steals nearly every scene he’s in as Jane’s practical fiancé who is allergic to pretty much everything under the sun.  Phil Silvers is as goofy as always (if truth be told, more obnoxious than goofy), but I love him because he brings out Gene Kelly’s goofy side.  One of my favorite things about Gene Kelly is that he was never afraid to let himself look like a fool, and every time he’s paired with Phil Silvers, you know they’ll have at least one utterly ridiculous song together.  In fact, every time I get too wrapped up in my Gene Kelly fixation, my husband likes to show me a picture from Summer Stock of one of his duets with Phil Silvers to knock him off his sexy pedestal just a bit. 

Nope, still sexy.

If I may go off on a tangent (like I haven’t already), I showed this film to my good friend Angie (who shares my Gene Kelly obsession) and naturally, she immediately fell in love.  Like I said, if you love Gene Kelly, you need this movie.  Regardless, there is one scene where Eddie Bracken and Phil Silvers, both of whom wear glasses, bump into one another, knock off each other’s glasses, then put the wrong glasses on.  Angie, in all her fangirl awesomeness, immediately started talking about shipping them together.  And now that’s all I can think.  I love to imagine that Orville and Herb run off together and have very nebbish gay sex together at the end of this movie.  Thanks, Angie.  You did this to me.

Is this one of the best movies ever made?  No.  Is it one of my favorite movies?  Yes.  Do I recognize its shortcomings?  Yes, empirically I recognize that this is not Citizen Kane.  Do I care about its shortcomings?  Hell no.  Will this movie always make me happy regardless of my mood?  YES. 

Arbitrary Rating: I’m giving this a very personal 10/10.  It has flaws, for sure, but my love of it overrides the flaws.  Gene Kelly, get in my pants.

Singin' in the Rain

Singin’ in the Rain

1952

Director: Stanley Donen, Gene Kelly

Starring: Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, Donald O’Connor, Jean Hagen

Alright, ladies and gents.  This is a big one.  A BIG one.  When I think about “perfect movies,” only very few films come to mind, but Singin’ in the Rain… wow, this is definitely one of them.

1927 is a time of great change for Hollywood.  Successful screen couple Don Lockwood (Kelly) and Lina Lamont (Hagen) have chemistry onscreen and vicious hatred offscreen.  When sound comes roaring to Hollywood, Lockwood and Lamont have to find a way to adjust to the new technology.  While Don can sing and dance, most frequently with his best friend Cosmo (O’Connor), Lina is another story, having a voice akin to a dozen screeching raccoons.  Don and Cosmo devise a plan whereby newcomer Kathy Selden (Reynolds), who has the voice of an angel, records Lina’s lines.  Lina, though, is more than a bit of a snake in the grass and hopes to derail both Kathy’s budding career and Don and Kathy’s romance.

I mean… where to begin… so much… so awesome… so perfect…

I, like many others, am fascinated by movies about the movies, and Singin’ in the Rain is easily one of the best movies about Hollywood.  I have a feeling this is the film’s biggest draw to those people who aren’t huge fans of musicals.  The little hints, jabs, winks, and references that abound in Singin’ in the Rain make it a rich tableau for those who know ANYTHING about early Hollywood history.  Nearly every supporting character is a direct reference to an early Hollywood legend, including Arthur Freed, Clara Bow, Pola Negri, and even Erich von Stroheim.  I love all these fun little bits, but it’s much more than just the characters.  I love how Don’s career, pre-Dancing Cavalier, is nothing but the same melodramatic love story rehashed over and over and over again, because YES, that is precisely what early (and, well, current) Hollywood did when they found a successful formula for anything.  And then, once sound comes barreling onto the screen, how there’s an onslaught of loud, noisy, and superficial musicals that are little more than vapid showcases for the new technology.  I love the montage where Don and Cosmo walk through the sound stage and there are three or four different movies filming all at once – and they all look like crap.  Singin’ in the Rain is about as vicious as an MGM musical could get when it comes to calling out Hollywood on its mediocrity, mass production, and lack of originality.  Although it definitely has a happy ending and creativity wins out, I love all the jabs at Hollywood that Singin’ in the Rain takes, probably because the film manages to do it in the least bitter way possible.  There’s fun to be had at Hollywood’s expense, to be sure, but Singin’ in the Rain does it in a “Hollywood may be ridiculous, but by gum we love it, warts and all” kind of way. 

So we’ve got the fun due to tongue-in-cheek Hollywood mocking in place.  Add on top of that the fun of some top-notch songs.  What’s so fantastic about the musical numbers in Singin’ in the Rain is that they all come from other shows or movies that were written right around the time the film is set.  (And don’t try to tell me “Make ‘Em Laugh” is an original song, not until you’ve heard “Be a Clown” from 1948.)  Long before someone had the cash cow idea of making a musical from ABBA songs, it was done in Singin’ in the Rain.  I like the idea of pulling from existing songs rather than using new ones because it adds to feeling of late twenties Hollywood. 

Has Technicolor ever looked more exquisite than when it was illuminating the GORGEOUS costumes and production design of Singin’ in the Rain?  No, I think not.  The costumes are beyond heavenly.  The silks, the lace, the satin, the colors… I could gaze at this film all day and never get tired of it.  The costume designer seemed like they had so much fun making all the costumes for this film; even a “throwaway” costume for Jean Hagen that she wears in one scene that gets less than 30 seconds of screen time is beyond fabulous.  And it’s not just the women who get the great costumes; Gene Kelly gets to flounce about in plus-fours, wearing an argyle sweater vest that matches his socks, for crying out loud.  Everything is illustration-perfect, everything.  This film is visually sumptuous. 

And how about funny!  I contend that Singin’ in the Rain is not just one of the best musicals ever made, but one of the best comedies ever made.  Barely a few lines go by without some sort of gag coming from somewhere.  Sometimes it’s lowbrow physical comedy, sometimes it’s some high culture reference, but crap it’s funny.  Leading the comedic aspect of this film is, without a doubt, Jean Hagen.  She goes to town as Lina Lamont, playing her as a full tilt idiotic evil genius (yes, I don’t know how she does it, but she’s the stupidest evil genius you’ve ever met).  O’Connor’s “Make ‘Em Laugh” always did when I was a kid, and was probably my single favorite musical number when I was growing up because it was so amazing and hysterical. 

The previous points are reasons that I believe the average, ambivalent-to-musicals viewer might enjoy Singin’ in the Rain.  But jesus, if you love musicals (like I do), then there’s even more to discuss.  Because this is the most hyper-musical musical to ever musical.  It’s brilliant.  The musical numbers are staged to perfection; this is Gene Kelly at the height of his creative genius.  His tap dance solo in the rain (performed while he was allegedly sick with a 100+ degree fever) is the stuff of Hollywood legend, the extended “Broadway Melody” ballet dream sequence is beyond heaven, but the other numbers are just as much fun.  Personally, I always like to call attention to some lesser-remembered musical numbers.  First is the “All I Do the Whole Night Through is Dream of You” song, when Kathy jumps out of the cake at R.F.’s party.  There’s something about the ridiculous sweetness and sassy twenties attitude of the girls as they sing the chorus that I find completely charming.  I adore the costumes with those perfectly pink caps.  Next up is the very first musical number in the film, “Fit as a Fiddle.”  I am so in love with this number and it gets constantly overlooked.  I love that Gene Kelly was all “screw that, the first number is gonna be a wham-bam tap dance duet where Donald and I impress the shit out of everyone.  That’ll wake them up.”  And given my love for “Fit as a Fiddle,” it should surprise no one that I MUST TALK ABOUT “MOSES SUPPOSES.”  “Moses Supposes” is… should I say it? Yes, I’m going to say it.  “Moses Supposes” is my favorite number in the whole movie.  And easily in my top five favorite musical numbers of all time.  I love love LOVE this song and routine.  It’s so high energy and so much fun and so ridiculously insane to watch.  I’ve said it before, but I love it when Gene Kelly (oh my heart, Gene Kelly) dances with other people in duets or trios, mostly because it’s then that you truly understand his brilliance.  Because try as he might to tone his level down to match that of the other dancer, he can’t help but be SO MUCH BETTER than whoever he’s dancing with.  Donald O’Connor was no hack.  Donald O’Connor was insanely talented.  But in both “Fit as a Fiddle” and “Moses Supposes,” when I compare him to Kelly, I see a bit of strain come through on his face, whereas Kelly makes it look thoroughly effortless.  The greatest geniuses make their craft seem ridiculously easy, and man if that isn’t the best description of Gene Kelly’s dancing I’ve ever heard.

Oh, and did I mention that I’m madly, passionately, and eternally in love with Gene Kelly?  Because I am.  Utterly and completely.  Forever and always.  And I’m sorry, but wow is he sexy in Singin’ in the Rain.  I love how he’s always clad in tight-fitting tweeds, how his hair is always coiffed with that middle part of the twenties, and especially how he embraces every opportunity to roll up his shirt sleeves.  ROLLED UP SHIRT SLEEVES.  I just… no.  Done.  Gene Kelly is sex on a stick and always will be.  I will always love him with the passion of a thousand fires, and YES, please, SHOW THE SCAR.  THE SCAR MAKES HIM EVEN SEXIER.

Stop it, Gene.  Gene.  Cut it out.  My ovaries cannot handle that expression.

Excuse me, I'm dying from the rolled up shirtsleeves.

I had the chance to see this on the big screen at the Dryden a few years ago.  Now, Singin’ in the Rain has long been one of my favorite movies, ever since I was old enough and interested enough in films to compile such a list.  In fact, it (and a few others) holds the distinction of being one of my favorite movies both before and after my epic 1001 Movies journey.  So when I walked into the Dryden screening, I knew what I was going to see.

Except that I didn’t.

I don’t through around the word “transcendent” all that often, but watching Singin’ in the Rain on the big screen with a packed and appreciative audience was a transcendent experience.  It was like I was seeing it for the very first time.  I never stopped smiling, not once.  The seven year old boy sitting next to me kept singing along with the numbers, a fact which made me smile even more (to his parents: you’re doing it right).  I was brimming with joy from the minute the movie started to when it ended, and I was on a Singin’ in the Rain high for the rest of the evening.  It was, simply put, one of the most amazing theatrical experiences I’ve ever had, and it was with a movie I’ve seen easily fifty times.

It’s remarkable that a movie that was my favorite as an eight year old child is still my favorite as a thirtysomething adult.  But that is Singin’ in the Rain.  That’s why it’s as epic as it is. 

Always and forever, Singin’ in the Rain.

Arbitrary Rating: 10/10.  Funny side story: my sister and I, growing up in the late eighties and nineties, requested my parents to rent this movie so often from the video store that this was one of the first films my family bought – because my parents realized it would be cheaper in the long run than renting it every weekend.

An American in Paris

An American in Paris

1951

Director: Vincent Minnelli

Starring: Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron, Oscar Levant, Nina Foch, Georges Guetary

Right off the bat, I will say that An American in Paris doesn’t hold a candle to Singin’ in the Rain.  Of course it doesn’t.  Nothing does.  And even I, an avowed fan of movie musicals, admit that An American in Paris is not even close to my favorite movie musical, nor do I think it deserved to win the Best Picture Oscar for 1951 over A Place in the Sun or especially over A Streetcar Named Desire.  And, when considering Gene Kelly musicals, it’s an absolute travesty that THIS film was recognized by the Academy when Singin’ in the Rain didn’t even garner a single nomination the following year.  Basically, An American in Paris suffers from being a pretty decent musical that, frankly, got more praise than it deserves.

But Gene Kelly.  Gene Kelly with rolled up sleeves.  Gene Kelly speaking French.  Gene Kelly cures a great number of my ills.  And it’s an MGM musical, with some pretty darn staggering set pieces.  So you know what, I still like An American in Paris.

Jerry Mulligan (Kelly) is a struggling street artist living the poor bohemian life in post-WWII Paris with friend and struggling pianist Adam (Levant).  Enter rich heiress Milo (Foch) who takes an interest in both Jerry’s art and Jerry himself, and makes an offer to Jerry to be a kept man.  Jerry’s hard up for money, and seriously considers it – after all, Milo’s not too bad.  Problem is, Jerry also just met Lise (Caron), a young ingénue who completely swept him off his feet.  But Lise isn’t exactly unattached; in fact, she’s engaged to one of Jerry’s good friends, Henri (Guetary), Jerry just doesn’t know that yet.  How on earth will this complicated entanglement of love and lovers ever possibly resolve itself?

My biggest problem with An American in Paris lies not with the fact that it garnered more awards than it probably should have, or that it indirectly lead to Singin’ in the Rain being shut out come nomination time.  No, my big problem with An American in Paris is in its story.  It’s a bit sordid, a bit seedy, and it never quite gels.  Do I need my musicals to have perfect or completely moral stories?  No, I don’t (Cabaret is pretty awesome and certainly not G-rated), but in An American in Paris, it’s as if the film cannot decide which way it wants to swing with regard to its characters.  Is Jerry a wholesome do-gooder or is he a desperate playboy?  Is Milo a cunning cougar or honestly in love?  I wind up feeling sympathy for characters that the film tells me I shouldn’t like, and I dislike the characters who are clearly meant to be the heroes.  In other films, I embrace this sort of role reversal because it was obviously intended, but in An American in Paris, this is more down to poor character development than any sort of intended moral ambiguity.  I just can’t sympathize as much as the film tells me I’m supposed to with Jerry’s plight – wealth and riches or honest love? – especially when it comes at the expense of peripheral characters who I rather like.  Even when I first watched An American in Paris when I was a wee child who absolutely adored MGM musicals, this one never sat well for me and I seldom, if ever, asked my parents to rent it again.  I liked the lovely dancing and the gorgeous setpieces, but the plot never worked the way it thinks it does.

Now, having said all of that, I still like An American in Paris, and that’s because 1) Gene Kelly 2) Gene Kelly dancing 3) incredibly colorful dance sequences 4) Gene Kelly 5) an amazing ballet finale and 6) Gene Kelly speaking French. 

Yeah, I have a thing for Gene Kelly. 

No, not a thing.  A full on, hardcore crush that has been raging for years and will continue to burn with the heat of a thousand flames for the rest of my life.  We’re talking number one or number two in my all-time crush list.  All time.  Top Two.  The man simply does things to my ovaries.  Like exploding them all over the nice wallpaper.

And man, is he on form in An American in Paris.

We first get the lovely little opening scene where he opens and closes trick contraptions in his tiny little Parisian studio apartment, indirectly showing off his keen sense of choreography and physicality.  Then we get Gene Kelly being goofy and silly with Oscar Levant.  Then we get Gene Kelly singing “I Got Rhythm” with a group of French children, and I honestly don’t think I can handle how utterly adorable he is.  Then he pulls out his classic “falling hopelessly in love” bit and I melt.  I utterly melt. 

Stop it.  Just stop it.  You're killing me.

He’s just. 

I mean. 

So handsome. 

I can’t.

Added for obvious reasons.

When Gene Kelly dances, the world stops spinning to wait until he’s done.  I am entranced, utterly fascinated, with the way he can make his body do things with what appears to be little to no effort.  He’s so smooth and despite the athleticism that he is rightly remembered for, it’s the grace he has that makes him my favorite performer from the era of movie musicals.  Yes, he does all this absolutely staggering choreography, but he makes it seem so easy.  One of my favorite parts of any Gene Kelly musical is when he dances with a partner, because it is here that his talent is most evident.  A dance partner, any dance partner, really shows me how amazing he is, because despite his best efforts to make the dance a true partnership, Kelly always manages to shine.  I can’t take my eyes off him, not for a second, and he just puts everyone he dances with to shame.  If it’s a tap dance sequence, Kelly is smoother, less stilted with his movements.  If it’s a slow dance, a romance, Kelly is more effortless.  If it’s a wild and crazy dance, Kelly commits more.  His talent was so immense, there was simply no containing it, even when he tried.  I can’t tear my eyes away from him when he dances.  This is true star quality. 

And then there’s the final ballet sequence.

I will say, right here, right now, that if movie musical ain’t yo thang, that final ballet sequence must be rather interminable to sit through.  Sixteen uninterrupted minutes of film that doesn’t speak to you in any way doesn’t sound like fun to me either.

Thing is, though, that ballet sequence IS my thing.  To me, it’s the highlight of the entire film.  It’s an extraordinary capper to a film whose story fails to completely captivate me; the extended dance sequence ends the experience on an incredible high note.

The film fantasy to end all film fantasies, the sets, costumes, and choreography are all astounding.  When it is combined with Leonard Bernstein’s incredible score, you have filmmaking that wins all around for Siobhan.  I adore how clever the different styles represent different French painters.  It’s art, plain and simple, art put to film.  (and there are worse things in life than Gene Kelly in a skin tight dance costume during the Toulouse Lautrec sequence.)  And has Technicolor ever gotten a better workout than in this sequence?  It’s simply extraordinary.  To me, it is easily the highlight of the entire film (and even those who don’t enjoy must admit that it gave Gene Kelly a chance to contemplate how to set up the amazing ballet sequence in next year’s Singin’ in the Rain).

I would never count An American in Paris amongst my favorite film musicals, but it’s not a bad musical either.  Gene Kelly is definitely on his game here, in full on ovary-‘sploding mode, and the dance sequences are fantastic.  The story is weak, but the production value is strong.  Whenever I feel the need for a Gene Kelly fix (which is pretty darn often), there are far worse options I can reach for (Summer Stock, anybody?  Which I still rather like) than An American in Paris.

Arbitrary Rating: 8/10.  Because Gene Kelly reasons. 

Hill 24 Doesn't Answer

Hill 24 Doesn’t Answer

1955

Director: Thorold Dickinson

Starring: Edward Mulhare, Michael Wager, Arik Lavie, Margalit Oved, Michael Shillo

Of all the films I’ve yet to see from 1001 Movies, this is undoubtedly the film I’ve been searching for longest.  This is not a readily accessible movie, and I have a feeling I wouldn’t have seen it at all save for Chip’s from Tips from Chip resourcefulness in somehow tracking down a copy.  It was released on DVD for the briefest of moments, but only as part of a Jewish cinema special set, and that was fairly cost prohibitive before disappearing entirely.  So frankly, I’m glad I just got a chance to see this one, full stop, because it’s been so hard to find.

  

But funnily enough, by the time I finished watching it, I was glad I’d seen it because, well, it’s actually rather good.  (If I sound surprised by that, it’s because I’ve learned that the films that are hardest to track down are usually unavailable for a REASON.)

Set during the fighting between the Arabs and the Israelis in 1947, the movie starts with the information that a United Nations dictated cease-fire will take effect at 5:45am.  Four patrol soldiers fighting for the Israeli cause are given the orders to try to take Hill 24, a strategically advantageous position, before that time so that when the border between Israel and Palestine is finally decided, Hill 24 will be Israeli.  We meet these four soldiers as they flashback to events that lead them to their current position.  There is Jim Finnegan (Mulhare), a British government worker originally stationed in Israel as part of the British guard who ended up staying because he fell in love with an Israeli woman.  There is Allan Goodman (Wager), a Brooklyn tourist who came to Israel to see the sights but stayed because of an emotional connection to fight the good fight with his people.  There is Esther Hadassi (Oved), a young Israeli woman who is raring to fight and will not let her gender keep her down.  Finally, there is David Airam (Lavie), a multilingual Israeli who has the most combat experience out of all of them and has seen some pretty horrible things.  

  

The film is divided into three mostly even sections as we learn about Jim Finnegan, Allan Goodman, and David Airam in turn.  Esther’s story is mostly tied in with that of Allan.  You’ve seen this structure of a film before, as each character in turn flashes back and tells “their story.”  While not exactly my favorite narrative technique of all time, such a device serves to move the film along by automatically sectioning it into three distinct acts.  As each character has a (mostly) fully formed story to tell, we have three beginnings, three middles, and three ends, all of which are bookended by the film as a whole.  Frankly, it works here.

And a big reason why I feel it works is that I thought the film kept getting better with every successive story.  Jim’s tale, the one we kick off with, feels like I’ve seen it before.  There’s nothing wrong with it, per se, but it felt like a fairly rote romance between two opposites.  Just as I was beginning to tire of Jim, though, we switch over to Allan.  Allan’s tale is very different; he goes to Jerusalem for a guided tour of the Old City and wants thrills and excitement.  Somehow joining up with the freedom fighters along the way, he finds himself caught in a firefight at night between the Arabs and the Israelis, and oh so quickly, his dreams of thrills disappear as he encounters firsthand the horrors of war.  Winding up injured and in the makeshift hospital, he has a crisis of faith with a rabbi and his desperation only grows.  Whereas Jim simply fell in love with an Israeli girl, Allan goes through a much more interesting emotional rollercoaster.  Yes, it starts to feel a bit like propaganda (this was the first film fully produced in the new country of Israel), but that’s to be expected, and I was still invested in Allan’s transformation.

  

And then we tote out the brief, but easily most potent, story of David.  David’s flashback, unfortunately the shortest back story of the lot, was gripping.  He recalls a previous encounter in battle in Israel when he found himself rescuing an enemy soldier who turns out to be German.  This segment was absolutely riveting, and when the film transitions smoothly from David’s powerful tale to the more nationalistic yet still powerful finale of the film as a whole, Hill 24 Doesn’t Answer definitely ends on a high note.  Rare is the film that I feel gradually improves as it goes; if it starts rather slow, usually it ends rather slow.  But no, Hill 24 Doesn’t Answer crescendos up to a very strong ending.  And I’ll add here that I should have expected it, as the film opens with a wicked punch to the gut.  The film makes absolutely no bones from the get-go about delivering a fairly bleak and powerful tale, but managed to lull me into complacency with Jim’s rather predictable flashback.  

  

I couldn’t help but be reminded of several other films while watching Hill 24 Doesn’t Answer, the two most significant of which were made prior to Hill 24.  I really can’t help wondering if Thorold Dickinson was heavily influenced by The Third Man and All Quiet on the Western Front, or if the similarities are honest coincidences.  The Third Man’s influence is most notable in Jim’s flashback.  In it, we see that while the British have some sort of control on the turmoil-ridden city of Haifa, there are rebel fighters at every turn.  There is so much rubble and confusion and a sense of barely-withheld anarchy that one could easily transplant Jim’s Haifa for Harry Lime’s Vienna.  All Quiet on the Western Front, on the other hand, shows a very heavy influence in both Allan’s story, as his transition from thrill-seeking naïve tourist to war-hardened, disillusioned soldier is played out in very similar terms to that of Lew Ayres’ Paul.  And in the final segment of Hill 24, where David tells his story, all I could think of, ALL I COULD THINK OF, was the scene in All Quiet on the Western Front where Paul is trapped in a bomb crater with a wounded French soldier, the enemy.  There are imprints of All Quiet on the Western Front all over this film.  I don’t necessarily think that a bad thing – All Quiet on the Western Front is an amazing film – but derivative is still derivative.

Really, if I’m being honest with myself, I expected something far worse from Hill 24 Doesn’t Answer.  I expected this film to be in the book for the sole reason that it’s the first Israeli film, and not on the benefit of the film itself.  But I was wrong.  Hill 24 packs a punch.  Not a huge punch, sure, but it’s there.  It’s a bit of a shame this film is so hard to find.

Arbitrary Rating: 7/10.  Oh, and did I mention that the print SUCKS?  It’s hard to watch – not because of the film itself, but the graininess is almost too much and definitely detracts from the viewing experience.