by Allan Fish
(USA 1939 102m) DVD1/2
Waiting for act Two
p Jack Cummings d Norman Taurog w Leon Gordon, George Oppenheimer story Jack MacGowran, Dore Schary ph Oliver T.Marsh, Joseph Ruttenberg ed Blanche Sewell md Alfred Newman m/ly Cole Porter art Cedric Gibbons
Fred Astaire (Johnny Brett), Eleanor Powell (Clare Bennett), George Murphy (King Shaw), Frank Morgan (Bob Casey), Ian Hunter (Bert C.Matthews), Florence Rice (Amy Blake), Ann Morriss (Pearl Delonge), Lynne Carver, Douglas McPhail,
Think if you will of Shakespeare in Love and the scene where Gwyneth Paltrow’s Viola de Lesseps, in the guise of Thomas Kent, is playing Romeo in the first production of ‘Romeo and Ethel, the Pirate’s Daughter’. He’s aching for the love of his life, Rosalind, and Will steps in and reprimands her/him. “You’re speaking about a baggage we never even meet…what will he do in Act Two, when he meets the love of his life?” Stunned, Viola sheepishly says “I’m sorry, sir; I have not seen Act Two.” “Of course you have not”, Will fires back, “I have not written it.” There but for the Grace of Gods…
Several hundred years later, or around sixty years earlier, depending on your point of view, George Murphy as King Shaw is auditioning to be the leading man of Broadway supernova Clare Bennett and is singing and dancing to ‘Between You and Me.” It’s a lovely number, a thoroughly expert duet that would be enough to make one think we’d witnessed something very special. And yet this is just Rosalind, and though we may see her, she’s keeping the polished floor warm for the real magic to arrive.
Let’s go back to the beginning. Johnny and King are part of a dance duet yet to be discovered and working as unpaid hoofers at a wedding parlour, where they take turns giving the bride away. One day they are spotted by Casey, of Casey and Matthews, out looking for talent but with a rather embarrassing record of finding duds. Due to a simple misunderstanding King gets offered the audition that should have gone to Johnny and Johnny helps him so that it’s a success. Their number is golden, and who would argue with that, were it not for the fact that Murphy’s partner was nothing so common as gold.
Eleanor Powell was a dancer and quite simply the greatest ever seen in front of a movie camera. Take Charisse, Rogers, Hayworth, Haney, Vera-Ellen, even Ann Miller, and Eleanor could dance all of them to a standstill. But while Fred had been at RKO making immortal gold dust with Ginger, Eleanor had been little more than a guest spot in the two previous Broadway Melodys. The plot never matters in these musicals, we know how it’ll turn out, and we just wait until Fred and Eleanor get to it. Their first dance is at a café for an impromptu breakfast, and watching them is like watching jazz musicians at a jam session, raising each other like poker players, as if they hadn’t a care in the world, changing the steps as they go, like a terpsichorean keep me up. It’s utterly, divinely magical, and yet still it isn’t enough, merely a side dish for the main course to come.
So cue Cole Porter’s most immortal ditty, ‘Begin the Beguine’, first sung by Lois Hodnott and then Fred and Eleanor come on to the highly polished mirror-like black floor. They dance, as if on impulse, and you’re left breathless. They go off, a chorus interrupts, and then they return, freshly changed into all white, and they go again. Never, in any film, has such perfection been seen and heard. You imagine all the other dancers before and since throwing white towels at the screen knowing they are in a delirious realm into which they cannot enter; a place beyond the Pantheon, beyond Olympus, defying gravity, dancing as if on air. It’s like Benny Goodman playing ‘Sing, Sing, Sing’, Judy Garland singing ‘Over the Rainbow’ or Deanna Durbin seemingly defying physics to sing ‘Nessun Dorma’. Recall that shot in Easter Parade when Fred is dancing ‘Stepping Out to my Baby’ and we get a quick shot of Judy Garland in the wings watching, clasping her hands to her heart, looking upwards. Her look then is us now, having watched them end the Beguine and stride off. David Thomson, Frank Sinatra (in That’s Entertainment!) and numerous others have waxed lyrical, but no words can do it justice. Sigh.
“Eleanor Powell was a dancer and quite simply the greatest ever seen in front of a movie camera. Take Charisse, Rogers, Hayworth, Haney, Vera-Ellen, even Ann Miller, and Eleanor could dance all of them to a standstill…”
Hmmm…What an interesting review there Allan…Unfortunately, I’m not familiar with this woman, but at least she is looking “The Mister” in the eyes. [and not counting while looking at his feet!]
Hands down actress Ann Miller is the best dancer in my “humble opinion…my very humble opinion.”
Hmmm…I wonder why is Rogers’ name second? Shouldn’t her name be after Vera-Ellen or Haney, whoever she is?!?
“So cue Cole Porter’s most immortal ditty, ‘Begin the Beguine’, first sung by Lois Hodnott and then Fred and Eleanor come on to the highly polished mirror-like black floor. They dance, as if on impulse, and you’re left breathless. They go off, a chorus interrupts, and then they return, freshly changed into all white, and they go again. Never, in any film, has such perfection been seen and heard…”
[postscript: If you tap the Grease poster you can watch the scene(s) mentioned above with "The Mister" dancing with this woman. lol
Well...I wasn't left "breathless," but just the same it was re-freshingly different and unique.
Great foot-work too!]
Thanks,
deedee
With Ann Miller you see the effort, like with Gene Kelly. With Powell, like with Astaire, it’s lighter than air. No comparison. Ann Miller was merely brilliant. There is no adjective for Powell.
Oh and Haney is Carol Haney, for shame!!! Your penance is to watch The Pajama Game six times.
Yes Allan your assertions of Eleanor Powell being the greatest dancer I do not doubt. But her utter lack of personality or acting talent makes me not care. I’ll take Fred and Ginger anyday.
“So cue Cole Porter’s most immortal ditty, ‘Begin the Beguine’, first sung by Lois Hodnott and then Fred and Eleanor come on to the highly polished mirror-like black floor.”
Indeed Allan. It’s one of music’s most electrifying compositions.
That “Begin the Beguine” number wtih Astaire and Powell is one of my favorite dance numbers in movies. I have only dim memories of the rest of the film, but I love that scene.
Now, back to your regularly, schedule programme…If you “tap” the poster you can watch Travolta and John sing “Summer Nights” from the musical “Grease.”
From the divine to the far from divine.
(to finish the poem)
But it’s 69? (Despite that line?)
or 67. But that doesn’t rhyme.
I’m a fan of this movie and liked this piece very much, Allan. I had a similar reaction to the George Murphy/Eleanor Powell number to the one you describe – it is so impressive that on first viewing you have to wonder how Fred and Eleanor will be able to outdo George and Eleanor. But, of course, they do, triumphantly. I feel slightly sorry for George, though, since in reality he must have been the one in the position of Fred in the movie, watching hungrily from the wings and waiting for his turn. I’m glad to see you paying tribute to Powell’s brilliance, because sadly she often seems to be put down and she really was wonderful. Jeanine Basinger has a great chapter about her in her book ‘The Star Machine’, where she describes how she had to record all her own taps after each number because nobody else could re-create the moves.
Your “waiting for act two” idea reminds me that my grandmother told me about seeing the young Olivier on stage in ‘Romeo and Juliet’, and she said “As soon as you saw him, you knew that he was in love and that he’d never get over it.” But, of course, he was only in love with Rosaline then and he did get over it a few minutes later. It also reminds me of an anecdote from Dickens that I’ve seen quoted somewhere, about how as a young man he went into a shop and saw somebody trying to buy the next month’s number of one of his novels, which he hadn’t finished writing yet. He said he suddenly felt frightened that he might not be able to do it.
Yes indeed, Judy. Powell wasn’t an actress as Jon says, but I’d equally say I don’t care. I she danced like that, nothing else matters.
Yeah I do think Powell was a great dancer though I don’t know if I’d really say she’s hands down better than Ann Miller (I’d say Ann is hotter however, a slightly different argument).
However, Powell was hardly a bit part player before this film. She had starred in the 1936 Melody with Robert Taylor and Jack Benny (who plays a role I swear had to be meant for Lee Tracy), and she was back with Taylor in the 1938 version as well. She was also in Born to Dance with a young Jimmy Stewart (who sings in that one), as well as Rosalie with Nelson Eddy.
Powell was an okay actress but there’s just nothing about her you remember afterwards. Ginger was a fun comedic actress that worked well with Astaire and a lot of others and could also dance, maybe not to Powell’s level but certainly well enough to get by.