In the midst of a gloomy and darkening year, it seemed like a good time to revel in an old-fashioned song from a bygone era, back when there was seemingly insatiable public demand for the sort of gentle, escapist fun to be had from the great MGM musicals. Singin’ in the Rain isn’t about anything more weighty or thought-provoking than boy-meets-girl, and sometimes the stitching of the big musical numbers into the narrative is a little forced (the idea is that they’re all part of the movie biz, so anything could be going on as they observe other films in production), besides which it’s often a little silly, but nothing can dim the brilliance of the big set-piece in which Gene Kelly sings and dances his way through the title song. Kelly’s balletic grace was rivalled only by the likes of Nureyev and Baryshnikov, and just like the great male ballet stars he oozed physical prowess and masculinity (to a much greater extent than his only possible peer in the business, Fred Astaire). Nobody could look at this performance and think that dancing is no sort of career for a man’s man.
It’s incredible that this whole scene was filmed indoors, on a sound stage, with sprinklers above supplying the rain (I’ve always wondered, what sort of drainage did they have to cooper together to deal with all that water?). It looks like one long continuous shot, but actually took three days to film, during which Kelly developed a fever that reached a very dangerous 103 degrees F. This didn’t do any more to slow him down than the progressive constriction of the wool suits the costume department kept giving him to wear, even though they shrank when they got soaked. Look, anybody can do a big, choreographed song and dance routine for the cameras when they’re perfectly dry and healthy; Gene Kelly came to play.
Look at him. When he’s not stomping his exuberant way through puddles, he just floats.
My favourite part comes at the very end, when Kelly is confronted by a beat cop who’s obviously wondering whether he’s got a loon fit for the straitjacket on his hands. The sheepish, yet good-humoured manner in which Gene explains in song that he’s just dancing and singing in the rain is utterly, disarmingly endearing. No problem here, officer. He smiles and walks away, handing his umbrella to a passer-by. What’s he need it for? Nothing can dampen this guy’s spirits. He just found out that the girl he loves might love him back.
the needlefish 