Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor and Debbie Reynolds Gain Everlasting Fame in Singin’ in the Rain

The rare classic movie that remains fresh regardless of passing years and repeat viewings, 1952’s Singin’ in the Rain made no pretense as a work of art upon its release (ala the previous year’s Oscar-winning An American in Paris), but over the decades it has rightfully come to be regarded as possibly the greatest cinematic musical ever and, for many, one of the best films period. Although co-directors Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen, working with a witty, ingenious script by Betty Comden and Adolph Green, set out to make a lighthearted follow-up to their more ambitious On the Town, Singin’ provided one of the scarce film instances wherein every element, starting with that ace screenplay and a perfect cast, blended seamlessly to create a singular work of entertainment carrying its own unique, inimitable magic and sense of fun that assured the movie would linger and rise in stature while other more highly-touted offerings aged indelicately.

From the opening sequence at a grand 1920’s Hollywood premiere to the lively finale, Kelly and Donen keep the film’s pacing over 102 minutes remarkably spontaneous and diverting, with Comden and Green doing a fantastic job of blending era-evoking musical standards by producer Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown (along with a couple newer songs) into a storyline that recounts, in hilarious fashion, many of the problems filmmakers faced in the transitional period from silent to sound pictures, making Singin’, in addition to its remarkable entertainment value, a now-important document of a critical period in the history of movies. Centering around the top romantic pair in silent pictures, Don Lockwood (Kelly) and Lina Lamont (the unsurpassable Jean Hagen) and the problems Lamont’s shrieking vocal quality and Lockwood’s perchance for ham-fisted emoting causes their home studio, Monumental Pictures, as it attempts to re-shoot their latest (but immediately passé in the wake of The Jazz Singer) epic, The Dueling Cavalier, the plot moves from strength to strength, with Kelly and Donen expertly staging one terrific musical number after another, while the story becomes richer and funnier as the film progresses.

                After starting his film career at the top with first-rate work opposite (and great chemistry with) Judy Garland in 1942’s For Me and My Gal, Gene Kelly had firmly established himself in film, gaining an Oscar nomination for zestful, charming work in Anchors Aweigh, which included his famous dance with Jerry the Mouse, then gaining his place as the top figure in musicals after the critical and commercial successes of On the Town and An American in Paris, which won a surprise Best Picture Oscar and a special Academy Award for Kelly. Singin’ would represent his peak and also the last successful musical (in terms of both box-office and critical appeal) of his career, although 1955’s edgy and inventive It’s Always Fair Weather and Kelly’s labor of love, Invitation to the Dance, were yet to come. With his forthright delivery style, effortlessly cheerful disposition and megawatt smile, Kelly was a perfect fit for the egocentric-but-amiable Don Lockwood, and he gives one of his most charismatic and assured performances, while putting over several classic numbers with his typical skill and athletic verve, including his (and maybe filmdom’s) most famous musical moment, the romantic, joyful rendition of the title number, which in the space of a few minutes sums up the Gene Kelly persona on screen, while he lifts the spirits of every audience member, making viewers want to be up there with him dancing up a (and through the) storm.

                For costar Donald O’Connor, Singin’ represented a huge career boost and also his peak. As Cosmo Brown, O’Connor performs with an impish glee and quick wit rarely seen, showcased unforgettably in one of the film’s highlights, his all-out solo offering ”Make ‘Em Laugh,” wherein O’Connor offers some gravity-defying moves among the awesome hilarity he displays throughout the number. O’Connor’s amazingly agile dancing skills provide the robust Kelly with the perfect partner, and their work in tandem on “Fit as a Fiddle” and “Moses Supposes” feature both at their lively best, and therefore represent two of the most buoyant examples of hoofing in screen history. A true pro, O’Connor started in films as a pre-teen (1939’s Beau Geste marks his top undertaking during this period) before moving on to prance his way through a series of B musicals during the 1940’s. Mainstream stardom came via 1950’s Francis and its sequels, and after the success of Singin’ O’Connor was seen to fine advantage in two more big musicals of the period, 1953’s Call Me Madam (wherein he is wonderfully paired with the lovely, nimble Vera Ellen in the dance numbers and puts over the show’s signature tune, “You’re Just in Love” with charm and verve alongside powerhouse Ethel Merman) and There’s No Business Like Show Business, wherein he teams with Mitzi Gaynor and Marilyn Monroe for one of the film’s more memorable moments, the drolly staged “Lazy.” Although his post-1950’s screen output was limited, Singin’ assures O’Connor of his rightful place as one of the most talented, dynamic performers ever to appear onscreen.

                As independent, spirited ingénue Kathy Seldon, Debbie Reynolds caught her star-making break after moving to the forefront of MGM starlets via 1950’s Two Weeks with Love, wherein she performed a rousing version of “Aba Daba Honeymoon,” that caught the attention of moviegoers and off screen would provide her with the first of two major hit records. Although Reynolds was largely untried as a dancer prior to Singin’, she energetically keeps up with her co-stars during the challenging, elaborately staged “Good Morning” number and this, combined with a natural vivacity and keen, intuitive comic sense seldom seen in a newcomer (Reynolds screen test from 1948 makes it evident she had a rare, incredible presence and spirit from the get-go), make her the ideal ingénue for the general tone of jubilance witnessed throughout the film. Following Singin’ Reynolds would go on to become one of the bigger names in movies during the 1950’s-1960’s, with the success of 1957’s Tammy and the Bachelor giving her that second major record via the #1 “Tammy,” one of the signature late-1950’s tunes, and an Oscar nomination for her vigorous work in The Unsinkable Molly Brown providing two highlights during her primary years as a top star. After leaving the screen for over twenty years for the lights of Broadway (via Irene), Vegas and elsewhere following excellent dramatic work in What’s the Matter with Helen?, Reynolds made a triumph return to films in 1996 with stellar work as the title character in the exceptional Albert Brooks comedy Mother, then would continue to thrive in theater and films up to her passing in 2018. Although her rich career offers many great moments, Singin’ is perhaps the movie that best captures Reynolds’ talent, with all its youthful exuberance on full display.

                As Don’s dim-yet-shrewd, egomaniacal costar Lila Lamont, who possesses a tin ear and voice to match, Jean Hagen displays ace comic timing and a verve for all-out performing to match her ebullient on-screen colleagues. Hagen first showed a knack for low-brow comedy in her film debut as the other woman in Adam’s Rib (the origins for Lamont’s shrieking delivery style can be found here) before scoring dramatically as the moll in John Huston’s classic noir, The Asphalt Jungle. Hagen’s flair for mixing colorful emoting with more realistic aspects of a character is clearly on view throughout Singin’, with Lina often made the ridiculous butt of jokes, but also showing plenty of mettle as she schemes her way to greater glory; with Hagen in the role, you believe Lina can be both idiotic and imposing. After her success in Singin’, Hagen would gain a large measure of fame on television in Make Room for Daddy, then work less frequently after abruptly leaving the series, with the 1959 Disney smash The Shaggy Dog offering Hagen her highest-profile film work thereafter.

                Without a word, Cyd Charisse announced herself as a phenomenally sensual screen presence as the slinky temptress who diverts Kelly in the big “Broadway Melody” production number. Prior to Singin’, Charisse had spent a decade in films with limited success, occasionally popping up as support as a sweet, graceful young ingénue in a big MGM Technicolor opus such as Ziegfeld Follies, The Harvey Girls, or Words and Music, but making little impact in more standard fare. However, with her entrance in Singin’ via the most spectacular gams imaginable, she immediately marked herself as one of the most unforgettable dancers and femme fatales in film history, masterfully holding the screen while staying in perfect synch with Kelly throughout the lengthy “Melody.” After her breakthrough in Singin’ Charisse would thrive alongside Fred Astaire in The Bandwagon and Silk Stockings and reunite with Kelly for Brigadoon and the terrific Fair Weather, wherein Charisse oddly doesn’t dance with Kelly, instead showcasing her terpsichorean brilliance in an awesome number in a gym with a group of rambunctious fighters. After solidifying herself as the screen’s chief female dancer in the 1950’s, with the downturn in popularity for screen musicals Charisse found her screen output dwindle, with a guest appearance in 1966’s The Silencers, wherein she still dazzled with those legs and her own unique sensual flair, being a later career highlight, while her strong MGM output assured Charisse would be prominently featured via the That’s Entertainment series of films, and fondly remembered to this day as, in Astaire’s words, “beautiful dynamite” on the screen.

                Among the rest of the top-grade cast, Millard Mitchell finds the right stoic-yet-comical tone as Monumental’s often-befuddled studio chief, R.F., and gets to share in one of the movie’s funniest moments with Kelly and O’Connor during the finale. As specific Hollywood types, Rita Moreno is a game stand-in for a Clara Bow flapper, and Dora Blake uses her sing-song, fluttery vocal delivery to perfection as Dora Bailey, the excited gossip columnist who announces the arrival of Don and Lina, then interviews them at the film premiere seen at the outset of Singin’. Finally, Kathleen Freeman provides one of her many brief-but-memorable, amusing turns as Phobe Dinsmore, Lina’s understandably exasperated diction coach.

                Upon release, Singin’ in the Rain scored nicely at the box-office (with rentals of $3,300,000, according to Variety, allowing the film to place among the top ten hits of the year), established Reynolds and Charisse, and received critical acclaim, with O’Connor ultimately taking home a richly-deserved Best Actor Musical/Comedy Golden Globe and Hagen Oscar-nominated for their stellar efforts, and Comden and Green winning a Writer’s Guild of America Award for Best Written Musical. Although in 1952 the film wasn’t held in as high regard as Paris, On the Town or other seemingly bigger musicals of the period, during the passing decades Singin’ has diminished not a whit in regards to the appeal and entertainment the movie provides with its peerless numbers, screenplay and a cast for the ages, growing in stature exponentially over the impending years, to the point where today the film often ranks high on lists and polls pertaining to the greatest films ever, while continuing to chase away the blues and put a smile on the faces of fans, old and new, as they view the wonders to be found in one of the cinema’s peerless musical masterpieces.

                As a p.s., I recently created a video tribute to the work of Gene Kelly, which can be viewed here. I also have a tribute video to Debbie Reynolds, which can be viewed here.