The Red Shoes

Most movies try to make you believe that you’re watching reality.  The Red Shoes tries to make you believe that you’re watching a stage production.  The sets obviously look like sets.  Players wear so much powder on their faces that we can actually see the line where makeup ends and flesh begins.  Things seem heightened, theatrical.  And that’s before the music starts and the dancing begins.

Here’s the setup:  it’s Europe, in something approximating the ‘20s.  The Ballet Lermontov has just hired a new composer who’s a genius.  Now, it needs a new prima ballerina because the previous one got married.  I guess that’s just how they rolled in the ‘20s.  The composer (Marius Goring) belongs in front of an orchestra.  The new prima (Moira Shearer) belongs onstage.  They belong together.

Here’s the execution: heightened, dramatic, delirious with aestheticism and creativity, The Red Shoes doesn’t care if you suspend your disbelief.  It just wants to blow you away.

It succeeds, through an audacious combination of dance, theatricality, set design, and special effects.  It doesn’t just show you what a ballet looks like, it shows you what’s happening inside the minds of the creators, the performers, and the audience.  Its music is extraordinary, its dancing is fantastic, and I found myself swept away even though I knew I was watching a show.

What a movie.

Shall We Dance

Here are a few direct quotes from my recent viewing of SHALL WE DANCE on TCM:

"Oh, my God. Look at that. This is what human beings are capable of."

"The pyramids, the moon landing, and this. Thank God for the medium of film to preserve this ... this ... beauty."

"When the aliens come and ask why they shouldn't eliminate mankind, I'm going to show them the 'Let's Call the Whole Thing Off' sequence."

"OK, those masks are creepy. Nothing's perfect."

Now, that's a movie.