An American in Paris

George Gershwin's estate should get some serious royalties. Since the genius composer's untimely death in 1937, his songs have popped up in countless "new" Gershwin musicals, on screen, and most recently, on Broadway, in "Crazy For You" which played about ten years ago. Such Gershwin standards like "I Got Rythym", "Nice Work If You Can Get It", "Embraceable You", and "S'Wonderful" were simply too great to be stored away in some studio vault, and thus appeared and re-appeared in countless studio films throughout the golden days of Hollywood. Arguably their greatest reincarnation is Vicente Minnelli's 1951 Best Picture winning "An American in Paris". Viewed in retrospect as an "unworthy" winner, besting more dramatic fare such as "A Streetcar Named Desire" and "A Place in the Sun", a distinction made even more unfortunate by the fact that Gene Kelly's superior musical "Singin' in the Rain" would be released only the following year and not win Best Picture. While it may be a frothy choice for Best Picture, there is no denying the film's entertainment value, as well as the superb MGM production values. Despite initially being slated to film on location in Paris, the film was ultimately shot in Hollywood, but I feel that this only adds to its kitsch appeal. The magic of the movies in those days meant transforming a soundstage in southern California into anywhere in the world. Thus the extravagent sets presented in "An American in Paris", which stands as one of Arthur Freed's finest products from his assembly line at MGM.

After making it through pre-production, during which time MGM nearly balked at pouring in so much money on a "dancing picture" (umm, what? MGM's bread and butter were musicals), its leading lady, Cyd Charisse, had to be replaced because she became pregnant (I swear, she and Judy Garland just shuttled back and forth between every MGM musical from the mid 1940's to mid 1950's) the film was completed with relatively little incident, until the signature 20 minute American in Paris ballet number was nearly cut (saved by Louis B. Mayer, in a rare instance of a mogul thinking artistically and not financially). What lies in between, from when the cameras rolled to when it first screened in the fall of 1951, is where the magic happens. Gene Kelly is Jerry Mulligan, a happy-go-lucky ("fill in the blank here" occupation) ex-G.I. come painter, living in the City of Light after World War II. Jerry lives the idyllic bohemian life, selling his paintings on a quiet little street, with inspiration around every corner. He is not successful, but his life seems happy enough, spent painting and squabbling with his concert pianist friend Adam. Jerry's life changes when he meets two women, virtually on the same day. Older woman Milo Roberts (recipient of the film's best line; when she initially attempts speaking French to Jerry, he tells her "can it sister. I'm from Perth Amboy, New Jersey.") who takes a liking to Jerry's paintings and a little too great an interest in his life, and Lise Bouvier, a beautiful young girl who happens to be involved with Henri Baurel, a song and dance man, and friend of Jerry's, all unbeknownst to him of course.

Jerry's flirtation with Lise is first met with scorn, but gradually she warms to him, only to be faced with the dilemma of how to tell Jerry she is leaving for America with her fiancee so soon after they share a romantic evening along the Siene. Jerry is devastated, and his last chance to see Lise, at a black and white costume party, segues into an extended dream sequence featuring Gershwin's bombastic "American in Paris" suite, which Vicente Minnelli brilliantly fills with dazzling colors, lights, mist, costumes and dancing. The ballet, which is equal parts metaphor and plot filler essentially is the third act of the movie, because when the audience emerges from the dream haze Lise has decided to leave Henri and stay in Paris with Jerry, whom she realizes she truly loves. Henri, in true "only in the movies" magnanimity, wishes the new couple the best and then promptly heads to America, sans Lise. While all of this might not seem like fodder for Best Picture, especially in a year featuring some dramatic heavyweights, that does not make "An American in Paris" any less enjoyable, which is what a musical should be most concerned with, especially one from the Freed Unit at MGM. And enjoy and entertain it does, just as much today as it did 50 years ago when it shocked the Academy.