Singin' in the Rain - I've a Smile on my Face



Quick note: This piece was written on the assumption the reader has seen or is familiar with “Singin’ in the Rain,” as various plot elements and characters are discussed along with what could be considered spoilers. For those unfamiliar with the film, I’ve lifted the following brief description of the Gene Kelly/Stanley Donen directed film from IMDB: “A silent film production company and cast make a difficult transition to sound.” There’s much more to it, but I truly believe this movie needs to be experienced to be appreciated, and a full plot synopsis just won’t suffice.



The story of the era of silent films converting to “talkies” is a fascinating one, with many stories from Hollywood about the challenges many silent actors faced; not just in their voices (Thank you, Jean Hagen and your most wonderful, over-the-top squeakiness that had me in stitches from the moment you said “What’s the big idea?!?!?), but also in their overly exaggerated physical deliveries and dialogue (Kelly’s Don Lockwood was not immune with “I love you, I love you, I love you!!!). That Singin’ in the Rain shone a light on this subject in such a funny, memorable, and endearing way was just one of the many reasons this film immediately made it into my list of top-five movies. 

Beyond the central plot of the film, there are just so many moments within “Singin’ in the Rain” that have engrained themselves into my memory. A few of those said memories (in no particular order):



“Moses” – Cosmo Brown (O’Connor) and Don Lockwood (Kelly) take Lockwood’s speech and diction lessons up a level with this amazingly timed song and dance number. While Lina Lamont (Hagen) was struggling to say “I cayyyyyan’t stan-‘em,” Don’s time was filled with Cosmo joining in to fluster the diction coach and remind us all that “Moses supposes erroneously.” The ending “AAAAA!” always makes me smile, even sing along, and I’m ever grateful that Cosmo and Don wore tap shoes to the lesson that day.



Their diction was wonderful, but their leaps were out of this world!

Speaking of Cosmo Brown… “Make ‘em Laugh” is the benchmark for comedic musical numbers that may never be matched. Walking into, running up, and through, walls, flirting and losing in a wrestling match to a mannequin, pratfalls and leaps abounding, Donald O’ Connor put his physicality to the test in this song. It’s no wonder that this song manages to evoke laughter from children of all ages. Though “Make ‘em Laugh” sounds suspiciously similar to Cole Porter’s “Be a Clown” (Previously used in the Kelly/Judy Garland musical “The Pirate” – both movies were produced by Arthur Freed), the fact that O’Connor is making us laugh by being a clown makes it work wonderfully.



My dad said "Be an actor, my son - But be a comical one!"





Jean Hagen: Any time Lina Lamont opens her mouth, the shrill, nasal voice invites laughter, especially with great lines such as “People? I ain’t people!” and “I make more money than - than - than Calvin Coolidge! Put together!” Research of the film reveals that Kathy Selden’s (Debbie Reynolds) dubbing voice was actually dubbed BY Hagen to produce a richer tone, showing what a gift Hagen’s portrayal (and voice) of Lina truly was.



Ms. Hagen, you brought a little joy into your humdrum lives, it makes us feel as if your hard work ain't been in vain for nothing!



“You Are My Lucky Star” – the cut version. Not seen in the film, this charming addition of Debbie Reynolds’ Kathy singing to a billboard of Don Lockwood is not only a lovely number, but also reveals that Kathy was, what? The president of Don Lockwood’s fan club?!? This certainly explains why, after the cold-shouldered initial meeting (of course, a Hollywood film star jumping into one’s moving vehicle COULD induce shock), the chemistry quickly picked up and developed into a lovely studio number of “You Were Meant For Me.”



Debbie Reynolds in a truly beautiful missing number.



“Broadway Melody” - This sweeping interlude is a story unto itself, of a young man’s rise on Broadway as well as the love (Cyd Charisse, who appears only in this sequence for a beautiful dance with Kelly) he searches for, and ultimately loses. This entire tale is pitched to studio head R.F. Simpson (Millard Mitchell) as an interlude in “The Singing Cavalier” (The new musical being made to replace the disastrous “Dueling Cavalier”) to include as a modern dance number. After the entire segment, which the audience sees in vibrant color, song, and dance, R.F. simply replies with, “I can’t quite visualize it. I’d have to see it on film,” making for a great meta joke for the viewing audience. (The line itself seemed to be attributed to producer Freed, who was known for saying just that.)



"That's the Broadway Melody!!!!!"



“Good Morning” – This is the moment where all three title leads have the opportunity to shine together: Debbie Reynolds singing with her distinctive slight southern twang, Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor hamming it up, and all three dancing up a storm inside as it does the same outside. Beyond it being a wonderful, fun, smile-inducing song-and-dance number, who doesn’t want to walk onto a sofa, turn it to its back, and crash down laughing? As is the case in much of this movie, these wonderful moments were due in large part to the masterful choreography and imagination of Gene Kelly.



Again, it just looked so easy!



Of course, I would be beyond remiss without mentioning the signature number and dance of "Singin' in the Rain." When Don leaves Kathy’s doorstep after kissing her good morning, what follows is pure jubilation. Now, there is absolutely NOTHING easy about the musical journey through the rain Gene Kelly takes us on, but oh my Lord, did he make it look effortless and graceful. This song and dance is more thank just a fun number – it encapsulates pure joy. “Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face!” For just a moment, this clumsy guy with two left feet sees Gene dance, and inwardly becomes him. We ARE Don Lockwood, in pure blissful glee, letting the rain fall as it may, and loving every minute of it. (Fun fact and side note: Myth would have you believe the rain in this scene looks so glorious and visible due to the fact that the “rain” was actually milk mixed into the water. This is most definitely myth. As stated by Patricia Ward Kelly, the wife of the late Mr. Kelly: “You see the raindrops because of a thing called “back lighting.” Imagine you are at an outdoor sports event and it starts to rain. If you look at the playing field, you don’t see the raindrops, but if you tilt your head up you see the drops back lit by the stadium lights. The challenge in this scene was to backlight the rain and not show the equipment reflected in the glass windows. The production records in the Arthur Freed Collection at USC reveal that several takes had to be redone because they could see the equipment. As Gene said, the real credit in this goes to the amazing cinematographers, camera operators, and lighting technicians. Not to milk!”)  To read about Mr. Kelly laboring through this while running a fever, working so hard to make it look easy when it was anything but, is a testament to the genius of Gene Kelly.



Let's be honest - most of us have seen a light pole and have been inspired to recreate this exact moment, rain or shine!

Before Singin’ in the Rain, I knew very little about Mr. Kelly. I knew that he was a dancer – there was Gene Kelly, there was Fred Astsaire. (Yes, at the time, my pop culture knowledge was limited.) I knew that he had once danced with Jerry the Mouse in “Anchors Aweigh” thanks to a brief clip my dad had pointed out to me. But beyond that, the artist that he was had yet to be discovered by myself. After watching “Singin’ in the Rain,” that was not the case. A new world opened up to me. Performances in the aforementioned “Anchors Aweigh,” “For Me and My Gal.” and “An American in Paris” are just a few gems that I discovered. Gene was a true artist, dedicated to his craft. He made movies, yes. But beyond that, beyond the song, beyond the dance, he made art. He made experiences. Whether a ballet at the end of “An American in Paris,” roller skating through the streets in “It’s Always Fair Weather,” or accidentally splashing a police officer while jumping in puddles, he poured his all into everything he did. He left an indelible fingerprint on everything he was involved in – choreography, directing, acting, singing, dance – he was truly a renaissance man. And he became one of my all-time heroes in the process.
  
There’s much more I could say about “Singin’ In the Rain.” The undeniably wonderful cast. The memorable numbers (“Singin’ In the Rain” is a staple around our house – lately in the form of the wonderfully fun mashup by Sutton Foster of that and Guys & Dolls’ “If I Were a Bell”). The dialogue – it’s an incredibly quotable film that has stood the test of time. The all-around good feeling the movie evokes. And, of course, the sheer brilliance of Gene Kelly and the hand he had in the making of all of it.

However, I leave you with a suggestion instead. Watch this movie again. If you saw it last week, last year, or have never seen it, watch it. Share it with your friends, your family. Allow yourself to smile.



 Walk down the lane with a happy refrain, and if you can, sing and dance in the rain.