Last night I decided to treat myself with something nice and positive - subconsciously, this might be the whole theme of my vacation as I decidedly avoid anything that might be oppressive, be it contacts, news or self-induced tasks. The point of vacation is to rest and recharge the batteries, so I am pleasantly lolling around and the only thing that I do is cook, talk to my dog and write this blog (I am even too lazy to read, imagine that!). Initially the choice of the movie for the night was some horror but I quickly changed my mind - why feeding my brain with something unpleasant before the sleep - and I decided to check out something that i knew it will be wonderful experience, one of the most beloved musicals from golden era of Hollywood.
Glittering Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer extravaganza, with romantic sets built completely in the studio, "An American in Paris" is a Hollywood love letter to the old world, in this case Paris as imagined and re-packaged for audiences who expect to see Eiffel Tower, banks of Seine and quaint, picturesque old neighbourhoods where charming, penniless artists fall for stylish Parisian girls. It is a crowning achievement in the genre supposed to be artificial and sophisticated in the first place - you don't look for realism and logic in musicals - the experience of watching something so intensely beautiful and magical is quite hypnotic, absolutely uplifting. Vincente Minnelli creates dream-like Paris where chic ladies stroll trough the elegant avenues and couples dine in chic bistros on the corner, the mundane matters of finances and even moral issues swept away quickly under the rug. There is a very thin story involving impoverished American expatriate, his fellow buddies, pretty Parisian girl and wealthy lady financier who has weakness for impoverished artists - this is all just a frame to show off glowing Gershwin music and breathtaking choreography.
Gene Kelly is a revelation - not only he is a magnetic screen presence, confident and capable of charming the socks of any old lady on the street but he brings athletic virility to a role of dancer. If Fred Astaire was a great, sophisticated gentleman of dance, Kelly was a strong, muscular sailor bursting with a life affirming joy, watching him dance up a storm is really a genuine thrill. We also understand that he is far more interested in pursuing innocent Leslie Caron than exploiting calculating, man-collecting Nina Foch who is quite ambiguous character - clearly, she wants much more from him than just helping his career but movie never analyse their relationship too deep. French singer Georges Guétary gets to sing a song or two (most notably "Stairway To Paradise") but our eyes are all on Kelly who always steal every scene. In fact, Kelly is so important that whenever he is off screen, movie suddenly sinks - hence completely unnecessary daydream music scene with Oscar Levant that technically perfect as it is, just stops the movie cold. The highlight of the movie is supposed to be final dance scene that I skipped because I am barbarian and at this point had enough of so much choreography - I enjoyed little touches like Kelly's tiny bachelor studio or walks on the Seine much more than extensive ballets, but than again, its a kind of movie that invites repeated viewings because there are really so many details worth savouring, so perhaps in the future I might be more patient. It is one of the prettiest musicals I have ever seen and works brilliantly as escapism.
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