Didn’t we have some discussions about some of this before Jazz? I swore we at least touched on some of the ideas…
Anyway, I’m glad you got to see it on the big screen with an audience since that can give a whole other experiential flavor to the movie. I also like the Adaptation comparison, even if the two films aren’t doing something exactly the same, there is some useful connections which can be made between the two I think. (Not that I am going to attempt that right now myself since I’m at work and that would require a little more focus than I could give.) How about sharing more of what you see as the links between the two films?
@Greg
I do recall having a conversation about the “Gotta Dance” sequence and I think you may have opposed my view that the scene wasn’t appropriate. (No surprise. :) I think I had this conversation with either you or Brad.
The “experiential flavor” was really wonderful. (Quite a bit of bit showed up, which was heartening in and of itself, but then they applauded before the film and after song-and-dance numbers. It was really great.)
As for other links between Adaptation, I think of the ending of the film, where we see the billboard of Singin in the Rain, with Don and Kathy (I believe Don and Kathy are listed, versus Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds). The film seems to be commenting on itself. The “Gotta Dance” number seems to be partly biographical of Don Lockwood, and it’s providing commentary about him, Hollywood and maybe some other things. (Do Cyd Charisse’s character and Lina Lamont represent the same thing—money, avarice, superficiality—things that oppose art, sincerity, goodness, etc.?)
I don’t know if there is any other examples of this self-referential quality. I’ll have to think about this more.
I don’t recall talking about the Gotta Dance sequence specifically, although I guess that could have happened, I was thinking we had discussed the movie as an example of an “entertainment” film which could be understood as doing something more than simply entertaining. I seem to recall making an argument for the structure of the film and the ending at the theater and how it worked to create a sort of “reading” of the audience when it came to the conflicting desires for truth and fantasy.
Anybody want to talk about Singin’ in the Rain v. The Artist? Same narrative, same end result, entirely different approaches to the same conclusion.
The Gotta Dance sequence is celebration of cinema itself. My roommate swears that Singin’ in the Rain is a much darker movie under the surface and points out the Gotta Dance sequence as evidence, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.
—PolarisDiB
The “Gotta Dance” sequence is essential for several reasons. First of all “Singin’ in the Rain” is “The Broadway Melody of 1952.” If you’ve seen the other “Broadway Melody” films you’ll know what I mean.
Second of all it’s a “catalogue musical.” This was an MGM speciality what with “Words and Music” (Rodgers and Hart), “Till the Clouds Roll By” (Jerome Kern) et. al.
The “catalogue” in this case consists of the songs Arthur Freed write with Nacio Herb Brown. Comden and Green had the bright idea of setting the story at the time these songs were written — the late 20’s just when sound was coming in. What makes “Singin’ in the Rain” so teriffic is that their “book” is so strong it could have worked as a comedy without any music. The music gives the picture enormous heft and additional charm.
The invariable complain about musicals is “I just can’t believe it when they burst into song.”
Well I just can’t believe it when they’ DON’T!
Movies are not reality. I get enough of that at home.
BTW, “Singin’ in the Rain” was the first movie I ever saw — at Radio City Music Hall in 1952. I was five years old. I thought ALL movies would be that good. Man was I ever wrong.
I saw Singin’ in the Rain in 1952 when I was nine. I thought it was not boring, colorful, funny (a woman jumping out of a cake was new to me), and interesting (I knew nothing about the transition to sound movies). For years afterward, I thought Jean Hagen and Donald O’Connor were the stars in the film; Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds didn’t make much of an impression on me. The film didn’t seem very popular at the time.
At the time the “Gotta Dance” sequence seemed out of place to me, but so did the sequences in An American in Paris and the Band Wagon. Somehow I got the idea that Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor were to be in that biographical sequence together, but that a contractual commitment forced O’Connor to leave and go to London before filming was started. Thus, the purpose of the sequence was changed and Cyd Charisse was brought in.
I have not perceived a dark subtext in the film.
I happened to watch this film last week, it was the third time I’d seen it.
It is just a plain fun movie. My favorite part might be the bit at the beginning where Kelly is discussing the way he came into stardom, at the same time we’re seeing clips of his rise to fame. “Dignity, always dignity”.
I felt the point of the ‘Gotta Dance’ sequence is that it was gratuitous. That’s why it works, because we’re aware of Kelly’s character’s self indulgent intent.
It’s interesting because the meta elements do comment on some of the darker aspects of Hollywood, namely the fictitious PR relationship between Lockwood and Lamont and Lamont’s attempts to enslave Kathy to prop up her own career, as well as the fickleness of taste and how actors must find a way to apply their skills to current taste or else outmode themselves. But I never got the impression that the film is addressing them as being dark, it’s always addressing them on the terms of the implication for the individual characters. In the film, these dark things about Hollywood are not dark, cynical things we regret to witness in reality, they’re just the magician’s secrets.
@Greg
I saw some of those comments in the original SITR thread (which I don’t think I participated in).
@DiB
I don’t mind mentioning The Artist, but I wouldn’t want to start talking about that more than SITR. (I didn’t realize the extent to which the lead tried to steal Kelly’s grin.)
My roommate swears that Singin’ in the Rain is a much darker movie under the surface and points out the Gotta Dance sequence as evidence, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Too bad. I would have liked to heard that reading.
@David
If you’ve seen the other “Broadway Melody” films you’ll know what I mean.
I don’t think I have. Can you explain what you mean?
The “catalogue” in this case consists of the songs Arthur Freed write with Nacio Herb Brown. Comden and Green had the bright idea of setting the story at the time these songs were written — the late 20’s just when sound was coming in. What makes “Singin’ in the Rain” so teriffic is that their “book” is so strong it could have worked as a comedy without any music. The music gives the picture enormous heft and additional charm.
The TCM intro talked about this. What’s more remarkable, imo, is the way they managed to make a unified and organic picture. I would guess concepts that come before the story don’t lead to very good pictures. But this is an exception.
@Harry
Thanks for sharing that. It must have been great to see the film on the big screen.
@Jirin
I felt the point of the ‘Gotta Dance’ sequence is that it was gratuitous. That’s why it works, because we’re aware of Kelly’s character’s self indulgent intent.
Can you expand on that? How was Don self-indulgent? (He was ambitious, but that’s not the same thing, imo.)
“Too bad. I would have liked to heard that reading.”
I’ll have to ask her again because I still don’t understand it. All I remember from the description was that she sees Gotta Dance as a breakdown/loss of logic moment (tying in loosely to what Jirin said about “gratuitous… Kelly’s character’s self indulgent intent.”) and the sort of abuse of Kathy, which she then gets into the real-world aspect of her feet bleeding from some of the dance sequences.
—PolarisDiB
The whole number abstracts Don Lockwood’s entire history. It was like how in Seinfeld, Jerry produced a show that had the exact same premise of the show. The number made himself, as an avatar for himself, a struggling genius who is the center of everyone’s attention. It’s also longer and intellectualized in a way that flattered his artistic inferiority complex that is explored the first time he meets Kathy. He needs to prove to his girl a movie actor is a real actor. Notice how the whole thing is staged like a theater production, which is exactly what Kathy was saying is superior to film.
That whole routine was about showing his manhood to Kathy.
@DiB
Well, if you ever get the low-down, let me know.
@Jirin
That’s an interesting reading. Several things:
1. The production is staged like a theater, but that may be referencing the “Broadway Melody” form that David mentioned;
2. Kathy associated “real” acting with drama in the theater, but the dance number is more of a Broadway number—not something Kathy had in mind. (Plus, there’s no dialogue, which is one of Kathy’s criticisms. If Don wanted to impress Kathy by proving his legitimacy as an actor, he would have been reciting dialogue from a serious playwright, or something along those lines.
3. I believe he’s showing the scene to R.F. alone, not with Kathy. (Or am I wrong about that?)
The number made himself, as an avatar for himself, a struggling genius who is the center of everyone’s attention
I don’t know if the segment flatters Don as much as tell a common tale. Notice that at the end of the segment, Don sees another version of himself. Imo, the segment seems to be more of a reminder to filmmakers about making films out of joy or inspiration rather than money and fame (represented by Cyd Charisse).
Hmmm….it’s been a long time since I’ve SITR but I remember HATING the Gotta Dance number…..the movie (for me at that time) came to a crashing halt at that point. I just didn’t understand it’s insertion into this otherwise generally pleasing and entertaining musical. Perhaps I need to see the film again and re-evaluate it.
But……otherwise….and I don’t like musicals for the most part…….I thought SITR a great example of classic Hollywood style and panache. Loved Jean Hagen in it. Loved Donald O’ Connor in it. Liked Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds in it too but really thinking they were upstaged by the supporting cast a little bit…at least in the acting department.
I’m not sure if SITR has a deeper message than pure entertainment but if it does…..it’s most likely a diatribe on the artifice of Hollywood…..a wink wink to everyone about how absolutely fake everything we see on the screen is, hence, Debbie Reynolds mouthing Lina Lamont’s dialogue and singing and the fakeness of the PR created romance between Don Lockwood and Lina, two people who generally can’t stand each other in real life.
@Grimes
Hmmm….it’s been a long time since I’ve SITR but I remember HATING the Gotta Dance number…..the movie (for me at that time) came to a crashing halt at that point. I just didn’t understand it’s insertion into this otherwise generally pleasing and entertaining musical.
FWIW, that’s basically what I’ve felt since this most recent viewing. I think if we view the film as simply fluff—albeit terrific fluff—then the scene seems really out of place. Most of the song-and-dance numbers are light and fun or romantic. (“The Beautiful Girl” number is sort of lame and dated, though—and it does seem a little out of place like the “Gotta Dance” sequence.) But this time around I started thinking about the themes and ideas below the surface. I haven’t reall processed the film in this way, yet, but I have a feeling the scenes might be more meaningful. (Also, I just appreciated the ambition of the sequence—the desire to communicate through music and dance, becoming more abstract as the segment progessed, versus using dialogue and conventional scenes to communicate to the audience.)
Here’s a question to everyone: what is the film really about? Off the top of my head, I want to say the film is about Hollywood, but that’s way too vague and general. Maybe it’s a celebration of a Hollywood musical? At the same time
I’m not sure if SITR has a deeper message than pure entertainment but if it does…..it’s most likely a diatribe on the artifice of Hollywood…..a wink wink to everyone about how absolutely fake everything we see on the screen is, hence, Debbie Reynolds mouthing Lina Lamont’s dialogue and singing and the fakeness of the PR created romance between Don Lockwood and Lina, two people who generally can’t stand each other in real life.
Yeah, I think there’s something there—although “diatribe” seems a little too strong. The film seems to use a gentler approach, unless it’s more subversive and dark than I thought.
//Yeah, I think there’s something there—although “diatribe” seems a little too strong. The film seems to use a gentler approach, unless it’s more subversive and dark than I thought.
Reply To Topic//
Diatribe was too strong….don’t know why I used that word……SITR is definitely more gentle than that…..the pitfalls of posting late at night, I guess….LOL.
I’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain. Maybe I should check it out.
When people ask me what my favorite film of all time is, I usually end up answering Singin’ In The Rain. It’s the movie that made me become a dancer, and one of two movies that made me love movies (the other being Star Wars). While it presents itself as a great piece of entertainment, and succeeds at being great entertainment, there absolutely is something deeper there.
The “Broadway Melody” sequence, which I absolutely loathed when I was younger (what with it bringing the film to a screeching halt, and having nothing to do with the plot whatsoever, and just being REALLY FREAKING LONG), I found a new appreciation for as I got older. For one thing, it sets up one of the all-time great jokes in the history of cinema, and for another, it’s kind of dark. It’s the centerpiece of the film, and it portrays, as a fantasy number, the story of a young innocent who comes to the big city to make it, becomes a star, and ends up getting approximately nothing that he wants. Then, the cycle repeats itself with another young innocent coming to town trying to make it big. And instead of telling the kid it’s not worth it, our hero and the kid end up encouraging each other. Add to that, the cinematography and other technical elements are just stunning.
The film does have a lot of dark undertones (Don’s depression, Lina’s not-at-all-idle threats to take over the studio, the pitfalls of being a contract player as emphasized by Kathy’s subplot, the cyclical, dog-eat-dog world of Hollywood actors/actresses, the gullibility of the press/public, and the lies, which abound in this film as in no other musical), but because of the consummate skill and likability of the performers, the whole thing feels light as air.
My favorite parts of the film are the meta aspects. I love the varied reactions to the “talking picture” demo reel (“It’s VULGAR!”), the sequence with the different microphone placements for Lina, the scene where they’re walking through the studio as about five different pictures of completely different styles are shooting, and Kathy’s deconstruction of silent film acting. But my favorite of all these is the scene where Don proclaims his love to Kathy in the abandoned studio, setting it up like a love scene from the movies. It doesn’t just show the artifice of movies, and not only how stuck in the world of the movies Don is, but how the movies inform our lives – how they teach us about how to act, especially when it comes to love. And it also goes a bit into the technical elements as well – if you wanted to learn about how to make a movie, you could do a whole lot worse (and spend a ton more money) than just watching Singin’ In The Rain, partly because of how it shows the technical aspects of actually making a film, but mostly because its own technical elements are truly superb (and seeing it on the big screen really shows this). In fact, it’s probably the ultimate movie about making movies for these reasons.
There were FOUR Broadway Melody films
1929
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0019729/
1936
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0026144/
1938
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0028665/
and 1940
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0032284/
The climax of each of them involves the singing of the title song — whcih is the song Gene Kelly sings in what people in here are callig the “Gotta Dance” number.
That’s why I call Singin’ in the Rain The Broadway Melody of 1952
“For one thing, (the Broadway Ballet) sets up one of the all-time great jokes in the history of cinema”
What joke is that?
Roscoe,
After the “Broadway Melody” number finishes in all its glory, we come back to the scene where Don is describing the number to R.F., who says (something along the lines of) “I don’t know; I can’t quite visualize it.”
Works on every level.
Oh. Ok.
I liked The Gotta Dance number a lot. It added something like an icing on the cake to an already great movie. I would say that Singing In The Rain is my favorite musical chiefly because of such scenes as the abstract Gotta Dance number, how Hollywood at the time operated, and of course, the great main musical number with Gene Kelley dancing around the streets while it’s raining. I don’t know if someone mentioned this in a previous thread or not, but somewhere I heard that that particular scene Gene Kelley had a fever of over a 100 degrees and so the rain could be seen better on camera, milk was used with the water.
@Jazz
That’s the point though, he made his own story of frustration tragically grandiose. He was trying to prove to himself, the world and Kathy that the sort of theater he was good at could be just as artistic as Shakespearean theater, and as a result produced something overblown and forced. This is the definition of artistic self-indulgence.
“Now you could study Shakespeare and be quite elite
And you can charm the critics and have nothin’ to eat
Just slip on a banana peel
The world’s at your feet”
He wanted to be quite elite, charm the critics, and slip on a banana peel in the same movie.
@Dan
Nice post.
…and it portrays, as a fantasy number, the story of a young innocent who comes to the big city to make it, becomes a star, and ends up getting approximately nothing that he wants.
Wait, how did you come to that conclusion? When he’s in the casino and he sees Charisse, I assumed he had “made it.” Or is this wrong? Is he some flunky in a casino?
Even if he’s a flunky, that might suggest that he got side-tracked (assuming that he became a flunky because of his first encounter with Charisse in the bar. There he learns that money (represented by the diamond brooch) gets you the girl. So, perhaps he abandons his dreams as a dancer and becomes a gambler or works as flunky in a casino?
If this reading is accurate, when he sees the young hoofer, it reminds him why he came. That’s not a dark message, but a reminder to remember what is important, which is a positive and hopeful message, imo.
The film does have a lot of dark undertones (Don’s depression, Lina’s not-at-all-idle threats to take over the studio, the pitfalls of being a contract player as emphasized by Kathy’s subplot, the cyclical, dog-eat-dog world of Hollywood actors/actresses, the gullibility of the press/public, and the lies, which abound in this film as in no other musical), but because of the consummate skill and likability of the performers, the whole thing feels light as air.
But is that lightness a good or bad thing, I wonder? One could argue that it makes “light” of the darker issues you mention. (I’m not sure how I feel about this, but I’m just throwing this out there.)
But my favorite of all these is the scene where Don proclaims his love to Kathy in the abandoned studio, setting it up like a love scene from the movies. It doesn’t just show the artifice of movies, and not only how stuck in the world of the movies Don is, but how the movies inform our lives – how they teach us about how to act, especially when it comes to love.
Yeah, I felt something similar. In another thread (can’t remember which one), a bunch of talked about the way art is a mediated experience and the way we’ve become so dependent on technology that our mediated experiences are more real than the “real” ones. I think the scene speaks to that to some degree.
I also like the meta-quality of the film. Do you agree that this meta-quality is much different from recent post-modern films (like Adaptation). There isn’t the self-consciousness and ironic-hipster vibe, which is something I like.
_After the “Broadway Melody” number finishes in all its glory, we come back to the scene where Don is describing the number to R.F., who says (something along the lines of) “I don’t know; I can’t quite visualize it.”
Works on every level.
One of the greatest jokes of all time seems to being going a bit too far, though. Let’s look at the different levels of the joke:
1. R.F. just literally saw a visualization of the idea;
2. Studio executives don’t know anything about good films.
Others?
@Hal
But you didn’t feel like the “Gotta Dance” segment felt out of place?
@Jirin
That’s the point though, he made his own story of frustration tragically grandiose. He was trying to prove to himself, the world and Kathy that the sort of theater he was good at could be just as artistic as Shakespearean theater, and as a result produced something overblown and forced. This is the definition of artistic self-indulgence.
I don’t know, this reading seems like a bit of stretch to me. Plus, the desire to prove his artistry doesn’t make him self-indulgent—especially if you believe that Hollywood musicals can be considered Art (which I do).
Also, I’m not sure if the segment is overblown and forced. I mean, you could argue it is in relation to the film, SITR, but not necessarily independent of that (if that makes any sense). Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen are more guilty of self-indulgence more than Don.
Now you could study Shakespeare and be quite elite
And you can charm the critics and have nothin’ to eat
Just slip on a banana peel
The world’s at your feet”
This isn’t Don’s making. This occurs in the “Beautiful Girls” segment. And it’s from another movie that Don, R.F., and some others come across and watch. Again, your accusation seems to apply more to Kelly/Donen then Kelly’s character.
@Jazz No, not really. You know, I haven’t seen it in a while, but I think that’s one of the reasons why I like the film so much. And that is because it takes it to another level. I like films that reach far or escalate or get bigger. I know it’s not Fight Club, which happens to be one of my favorite films, but it doesn’t stay in the same place as it started with which is just the fighting to an international or national terrorist organization blowing up skyscrapers. Then again, Knife In The Water, might not escalate in that sense, but it leaves you with questions afterward. Another example, perhaps more relevant to Singing In The Rain would be Dumbo with the pink elephant scene. It is so drastically different from the rest of the film that it makes the film even better than it already is. Or there’s another one I was just thinking of and I can’t remember the title, but when I do, I’ll try and post it up here as an additional example.
Jazz,
Wait, how did you come to that conclusion? When he’s in the casino and he sees Charisse, I assumed he had “made it.” Or is this wrong? Is he some flunky in a casino?
You got me a bit confused here… Yes, when he’s in the casino/bar/parlor/whatever, he’s become a star, but as soon as he sees Charisse (the greatest dancer the screen has ever seen) all he wants is her. And he doesn’t get her. And then, somehow, all his working and striving has been for naught. And the gangsters throw him out on his ass. He has lost the girl he might have loved, and his status, and his original love (dance). Then he sees the young hoofer, is reminded of his younger self, cries out “Gotta dance!” and starts dancing again. Then, everyone sings the last line of the song, “That’s the Broadway melody!” which implies to me that this is a never-ending cycle; note that Kelly never really stops the kid or gives him any advice or even really dances with him. So yes, it’s an ostensibly happy ending, but that dark undercurrent is still there.
And I do think the lightness is a good thing, making for many different levels on which to enjoy the film, and more firmly grounding it in the traditions of the big studio musicals.
One of the greatest jokes of all time seems to being going a bit too far, though. Let’s look at the different levels of the joke
Okay, yeah, a bit of hyperbole there on my part, but you’re missing one key part of the joke: ONLY the audience of Singin’ In The Rain has actually seen the number. In the film, Don is describing it to R.F. It’s funny because we’ve just seen it, and it’s also a commentary on films, and pitches for films, etc.
It’s one more meta moment of the film, something else on which I agree with you. I love how the meta-ness of Singin’ isn’t arch or ironic or even the least bit snarky.
@Hal
So you’re suggesting that the “Gotta Dance” sequence elevates SITR by introducing and dealing with another theme or tone? I can understand that. Of course, a scene that is different from the rest of the film could be inappropriate, too, right? I’m not more to the possibility that the scene does fit with the rest of the film, but I’d like to hear some arguments for that.
@Dan
And the gangsters throw him out on his ass. He has lost the girl he might have loved, and his status, and his original love (dance).
He doesn’t get the girl, but does he lose his star status?
For me, I thought of the girl not as a serious love-interest, but a symbol for fame and money—more the more materialistic rewards for artistic success. So when he doesn’t get the girl and sees the young version of himself, the message was a reminder of what was important—namely, the love of his art. The scene doesn’t imply that the cycle will be repeat itself—i.e., the young hoofer will eventually fall, if he ever gets to the top. Kelly’s character smiles when he sees the younger version—so the message is to not forget your passion, which is what the Kelly character forgot.
ONLY the audience of Singin’ In The Rain has actually seen the number. In the film, Don is describing it to R.F. It’s funny because we’ve just seen it, and it’s also a commentary on films, and pitches for films, etc.
Hmm, my memory is hazy. I guess Don is standing there talking, but I thought there’s a clip they’re watching, which ends. (That would have made R.F.‘s line funnier, imo—although I’d be a little surprised if the studios let that go.)
@Hey Jazz Thanks for the response. I hope I’m answering your question when I add to what I have already said that some of these extra scenes we see in movies like Singing In The Rain or the pink elephant hallucination that Dumbo and the mouse are having in Dumbo may not relate to the film at all and therefore cannot articulate a reason as to why they are within the film. I think the other example I was thinking of was Eraserhead. A certain amount or maybe a large amount of that film makes no rational sense at all. It’s just these beautiful and eerie images. And then there’s 2001 where we are not told what is happening at the last twenty to thirty minutes of the film. We can conjecture, but it’s all up to the individual’s mind. In fact, Lynch and Kubrick did not want to pose an interpretation on those films and wanted the viewer to fill in the blanks. This I say would be the case for the Gotta Dance number in Singing In The Rain. I don’t know if Gene Kelley and Stanley Donen had a particular reason for why they did what they did, but they possibly could have. I don’t know myself. Especially in a movie that is a musical and relies upon music which is more abstract to a certain degree than film in that, (and I love to listen to music), that when you get right down to it music is a series of sounds joined together. I don’t know the origin of who came up with the quote, but it goes “There are only two types of music: good music and bad music.” And the Gotta Dance number itself is not as related to the rest of the story of the film, but it adds an extra layer to the film, which, as I said before, is the icing to the cake. So, maybe it’s adding to what the Gene Kelley character is thinking in his mind which makes the film greater. You have to excuse me a little. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the film, but I remember the Gotta Dance part somewhat and I particularly loved that part as well as the title number in the rain and I guess other numbers like Good Morning and Make ‘Em Laugh. I hope I’ve answered your question. I don’t know if I could expand on that or take it any further. Is that what you wanted to know?
Jazz,
Enh, it’s just my interpretation. Since it’s a kind of “dream ballet” it’s impressionistic and my reading of it certainly isn’t the only/correct reading. BUT, I see his being tossed out of the club and his despondency as symbolic of him losing his star status.
As a dramaturg, I place a lot of importance on the text, so to me it’s important that they sing that last line of the song at the end of the number. In my reading of the number, this is indicative of the story they’re telling being the “Broadway Melody”, which implies that this is an oft-told tale which happens over and over again. But again, that’s just my reading.
And no, there isn’t a clip they show to R.F. The number is set up as a pitch that Don is making. He says something along the lines of there only being one number left to shoot, the opening number, and then goes on to describe it.
@Hal
I don’t think I agree with Eraserhead or 2001 example. These films allow for interpretation, but that’s different from containing scenes that don’t fit, imo. (I don’t think there are any scenes from either film that seem really out of place. Some may call the ending of 2001 bizarre, but I think it fits with the film as a whole.) However, I do agree that the filmmakers present the “Gotta Dance” sequence as something for the viewer to interpret. But it seems to clash with the other scenes that seem fun and light, while this one is artier.
@Dan
BUT, I see his being tossed out of the club and his despondency as symbolic of him losing his star status.
Couldn’t his not getting the girl explain his despondency? When he sees the young version of himself, his mood changes because he remembers the reason for being there—i.e., dancing—not fame, women, money.
(I should re-watch the scene, especially the singing of the song at the end.)
And no, there isn’t a clip they show to R.F. The number is set up as a pitch that Don is making. He says something along the lines of there only being one number left to shoot, the opening number, and then goes on to describe it.
Ah, OK.
Jazzaloha
I had a blast seeing this on the big screen (even if the sound and picture quality wasn’t the greatest). I wanted to discuss too aspect of the film. Before I get into that, I wanted to say that I’ve never really taken the time to analyze the film—beyond its surface. What is on the surface—the story, the romance, dancing and singing, etc.—have always been more than enough for me. I never tried to really interpret the film or find a deeper meaning or subtext. But watching the film, again, made me think more about what the films is really about, and I wondered if there is a deeper “message” (or at least ideas running through the film). In this thread, I’d like to explore the underlining themes and ideas in the film.
Here are some comments off the top of my head:
1. I would characterize the film as post-modern; strangely, the quality of the film reminded me a little of Charlie Kaufman’s Adaptation, the snake biting its tale dynamic. Is there a lot of that going on in the film? Btw, the TCM introduction made me think of this because Robert Osbourne mentioned that the songwriters wanted to make a movie with a lot of their music. This seems to tie in with the plot-line of converting the bad talkie into a musical.
2. What is the film about? Is it about Hollywood? Is it About Art and the tension between art and Hollywood? Something else?
3. I also wanted to say that I’ve changed my mind (at least partially) on the “Gotta Dance” number, including the more abstract dance piece. Initially, I thought it was gratuitous, but I don’t think I feel that way (although this will depend on what I think the film is about). I also appreciated the ambition of the number—using dance (ironically, without dialogue) to communicate, and the way this becomes more abstract. (I hope we can discuss some interpretations of this scene.