Words and Music

"Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Rodgers and Hart Songbook" is the soundtrack of heaven. I discovered it in the CD collection of a girl I was dating in 1989. I married the girl and, twenty years later, we still have the CD. So when I heard that there was a Rodgers and Hart biopic and that it was pretty doggone good, into the queue it went. I wanted to learn about these guys and their music.

I learned that the music is good, but it’s really the performer who makes it live.

WORDS AND MUSIC follows the Rodgers and Hart career arc, but it's more a retrospective, with moments of story serving mostly to segue between performances by distinguished artists of the day. But here's the problem: in the hands of wrong people, R&H's music goes from smart and sly classics to dated pop. Lena Horne is great and all, but her rendition of “Lady is a Tramp” in the film just can’t stand up to Ella’s on disc. June Allyson’s “Thou Swell” is a wet noodle compared to Nat King Cole’s in “Live at the Sands.” And don’t even get me started on comparisons with Sinatra.

Don’t get me wrong: the movie’s ok, particularly if you’re interested in even a fictionalized biopic of Rodgers and Hart. It’s just that nearly every time someone sang, I found myself comparing the performance with that of a better artist. All things considered, I prefer to remember Rodgers and Hart with the help of Fitzgerald and Cole and Sinatra, not the folks behind this picture.

Xanadu

Sometimes, a guy's just gotta groove to some ELO-influenced roller disco entertainment.

XANADU is that, of course, but it's also more: it's the pinnacle of the roller disco genre. It's tacky, it's loud, it's far too bright, and it raises more questions than it answers. It also features Gene Kelly's last dance performance in a feature film, clever switches between animation and live action, and more raucous, self-delighted performance than you can shake a skate at. This is the kind of movie that features tightrope walkers because - why the hell not? It's the kind of movie that gives you nine muses, none of whom look remotely Greek. It's the kind of movie that thinks going over the top isn't going far enough.

Yeah, there's a plot about an artist who is in danger of losing his inspiration and an old-timer in danger of forgetting his. They're saved through the twin powers of Olivia Newton-John and roller disco, a potent combination if ever there was one. But that's not the reason to see the movie. The reason to see the movie, or at least to fast forward through the dialogue so you can get to the production numbers, is to watch an aging Gene Kelly demonstrate that he has more rhythm in his little finger than Olivia Newton-John has in her entire body. It's such a pleasure to watch this guy do his thing, even if he isn't as acrobatic as he once was, that you can't possibly regret sitting down with this picture for at least twenty minutes. What's more, there are zoot-suit dancers, carhop dancers, and even early breakdancers.

All that, plus ELO. Plus roller disco. What's not to love?

The Three Musketeers

The 1948 "Three Musketeers" is big time, Golden Age Hollywood filmmaking at its best. With big stars, lavish costumes, great sets, and lots of practical stuntwork, this Technicolor gem is as much fun today as it was the day it first screened.

Gene Kelly stars as D'Artagnan in this adaptation, and it's a terrific casting choice. Since filmed swordplay is basically dancing, putting an accomplished dancer in the role allows the fight choreographer to have some fun with his sequences. Kelly leaps, flips, thrusts, and parries with aplomb, convincing us that he is a hell of a swordsman. Combine this with his everyman attitude, and we believe in him as a rube just in from the country. His new comrades (Van Heflin, Gig Young, and Robert Coote) appear to be having a wonderful time, lending the proceedings precisely the devil-may-care attitude they need to capture Dumas's tone.

But you can't have heroes without villains. With Lana Turner as the Lady De Winter and Vincent Price as Cardinal Richelieu, our heroes are up against the very best. It's a pleasure to watch them all do their work.

It doesn't end there, however. Check out the undercard: June Allyson as Constance, Angela Lansbury as Queen Anne, Frank Morgan as King Louis the XIII, and Keenan Wynn as Planchett. Was there anyone sitting in the MGM cafeteria who didn't get roped into this thing?

All those names aren't enough for you, eh? Well, you can always enjoy the pretty pictures. MGM's costumers put some velvet wholesaler's kid through college with this one, with one lavish getup after another. It's wonderful, in that Golden Age way. Similarly, its set designers went to the trouble of getting every little detail just right, even if the location worked screamed "California." (An aside: the Musketeers are riding down a beach along the English Channel. Observed my 8-yr-old, "Hey, isn't that the beach from 'Planet of the Apes'?" That's my boy!)

But the fight scenes are what really sell this movie. I love practical stuntwork, and "The Three Musketeers" features some impressive stunts. You have the standard jumping on and off of horses, which we're used to, by now. But there are a number of multilevel falls that look challenging and authentic, and the swordplay is uniformly terrific.

In other words, the 1948 "The Three Musketeers" is great fun. Thanks again, TCM, for another wonderful presentation.

Inherit the Wind

Here's what I like about INHERIT THE WIND: it's a courtroom drama that doesn't waste too much time with the setup. It introduces the players and the case and -bam- before you know it, Spencer Tracy and Frederick March are objecting, counterarguing, and acting their butts off for the entertainment of one and all. INHERIT THE WIND is pugnacious; it's agressive; it's funny; and it works. From supporting actors like Dick York, Norman Fell, and Harry Morgan to the surprise (for me) costar Gene Kelly, from the most perceptive observation to the most overblown speech, this is big-time Hollywood Issue-Moviemaking at its best.

INHERIT THE WIND fictionalizes the Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925. Tracy is a fictional analogue of Darrow, March of Bryan, and Kelly of H.L. Mencken, the Baltimore reporter who brought Darrow onboard to argue the case. While its arguments seem superficial and some of its characterizations rather broad, one can't deny the film's earnestness, competence, and ability to entertain.

I laughed, I thought, and I thanked God I don't live in Kansas. INHERIT THE WIND may not be quite as deep as it thinks it is, but it's deep enough to make for a pleasant Sunday evening's viewing.

Take Me Out to The Ball Game

Busby Berkeley's TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALL GAME, starring Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Esther Williams, is utterly, atrociously, horribly bad.

Kelly, Sinatra, Williams, and the supporting cast don't act - they merely mark time between uninspired musical numbers. The story, your basic love triangle, isn't interesting because there's no real sense that any of these people even like one another. The comedy falls flat, Kelly's dancing is tied down by his costars, and not even the pool number can do much more than put a check in a box.

Here's the setup: Kelly and Sinatra are, basically, Ruth and Gherig, a couple of ballplayers on the vaudeville circuit between seasons. Gher-, er, Sinatra is all smiles and enthusiasm, while Kelly's all about the money and has fallen out of love with baseball. When these guys finally show up to spring training, there's bad news: the team's owner has died, leaving it to his stripper wife, who ... oh, wait, that's from a better movie. This movie's bad news is that the owner had died and left the team to his niece, a woman who, dontcha know it, has a talent for and knowledge of baseball. You can fill in the rest of the dots from here, but why bother? It's the middle of summer - why not just go to a ball game, instead?

Gene Kelly: Anatomy of a Dancer

GENE KELLY: ANATOMY OF A DANCER is your standard biographical documentary, interweaving clips and talking heads to give us an overview of its subject's life. While the film's structure lacks inspiration, it benefits from the plethora of great clips from which it draws.

GKAD didn't teach me anything, but it did entertain the heck out of me. With the lamentable exception of a clip from XANADU, this documentary has it all. I'd label it a must-see for Kelly fans.