I had watched the entire movie Singin’ in the Rain at some point many years ago, and my memory of it was spotty. I remembered Gene Kelly’s description of his childhood and early career: “Dignity. Always dignity,” and of course the title song, and that the whole plot centered around the advent of talkies and the demise of silent movies. I also had this vague notion that the song had something to do with smiling in the face of adversity, sort of along the same lines as “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on my Head.” (Rabbit trail alert: Of course I had to look up “Raindrops” and watch the clip of its occurrence in the movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for Sundance to take the time for this little romantic bike-riding interlude with Etta Place, his schoolteacher girlfriend, since he and Butch are on the run from the law, but there it is. Maybe someone decided that the story had been going on too long without any fun stuff. The song itself doesn’t advance the plot directly, but the director wanted something to go with the scene, and Burt Bacharach, who was writing the score, apparently had the first line in his head and wanted to use it. You can shoehorn the lyrics into the plot of the story somewhat, but it takes effort. I will point out, by the way, that this scene includes no rain. Sheesh.) But back to “Singin’,” which isn’t about adversity at all. Gene Kelly’s character is simply in love. He’s just said goodnight to his new girlfriend Kathy, and he’s so happy that he’s perfectly willing to dance through the storm. No angst at all is involved.
Back to my original question of which came first, the song or the movie. If you’re a regular reader of my posts you know that I’m obsessed with the subject of origins. I want to know how things came about. Why was this piece written? Where did the idea come from? Etc. Sometimes these questions can be answered; often they can’t. But in this case the origins of the song are (supposedly) quite clear. Here goes:
The song was written way before the movie by Arthur Freed, who ended up being the head of the MGM musical division. Back in the 1920’s, though, he was running a sheet music shop in Seattle and one day he saw a man saturated with the rain dancing past his shop window. This image inspired the lyrics. That’s the story on one website, anyway. I don’t find any references to Freed’s living in Seattle anywhere else–he was born in Charleston SC and did a fair amount of work in Chicago before he moved to Hollywood. He even performed on the vaudeville circuit with the Marx Brothers! Anyway, Freed ended up being hired by MGM because of his songwriting talents, where he teamed up with the composer Nacio Herb Brown to write the music for the Hollywood Revue of 1929, MGM’s first-ever musical, as well as a number of other films. “Singin’ in the Rain” was included in Revue, which won Best Picture that year.
Freed was very ambitious, and his big step up came when MGM got hold of the rights to The Wizard of Oz. He worked hard behind the scenes as an uncredited assistant (whatever that may be) and the movie’s huge success gave him equally huge status at MGM. (See my post on “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”) He then worked on a string of very successful movies, but he had a longtime urge to make a musical out of his early hit songs, including “Singin’.” So in 1951 he proposed doing something with his backlog. I have to admit that I’m a little puzzled here. “Singin’” had already been featured in the 1929 movie; why did he want to use it again? I guess he just really, really liked it. Also, maybe he wanted better staging for it in the new film. After all:
“Singin’ in the Rain” . . . had first been sung by Ukulele Ike (later the voice of Jiminy Cricket) and the Brox Sisters in The Hollywood Revue of 1929 where it culminated in a bizarre sequence with a jolly, presumably doomed chorus dancing in front of Noah’s Ark. (from Limelight Magazine: “Raining Supreme: The Secret History of Singin’ in the Rain“–behind a paywall)
So very strange! You can watch the clip below and see for yourself. I often find the choreography in a musical to be totally inexplicable; see, for example, my take on “Get Happy.” Weird! You’ll notice, though, that the lyrics sung by Ike in the original version of the song really flesh out the whole idea that being in love makes you feel as if you can leap tall buildings in a single bound, or, as he sings: “Why is each new task a trifle to do?/Because I’m living a life full of you.” As work on Singin’ progressed, the writers in charge of the script did a lot of research, hunting down performers of Freed’s songs from the 1920’s and getting their take on things, then meeting with Freed. They realized that all of the songs would fit perfectly into a story about Hollywood from that same time period. Here’s how the process unwound:
The show came together scene by scene, each one read in turn to Freed, [director Stanley] Donen and his chosen co-director Gene Kelly for approval. According to Kelly, Freed wanted “Singin’ In The Rain” to be the title of the film from the outset: “He said, ‘Can you use that number?’ and I said, ‘Sure’. And he said, ‘What’ll you do with it,’ and I said ‘It’ll be raining and I’ll be singing.'” (Limelight, again,; note British punctuation.)
Before I go on to some further fun facts about the movie I’m going to express a totally unsolicited opinion: Isn’t Gene Kelly just the greatest guy? Doesn’t he, like, blow Fred Astaire out of the water? I mean to say, Astaire is a joy to watch on the dance floor, but I can never ever believe that Ginger is actually in love with him. He seems awfully bloodless to me. (Sort of like what’s-his-name who plays Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind.) No brickbats, please!
So, about the song’s performance in the 1952 film:
1. Gene Kelly was sick, running a 101-, 102- or maybe 103-degree temperature over the two days it took to film the scene. (The degree of fever depends on what source you consult.)
2. The rain was not a mixture of milk and water to make the rain show up in the shots as is sometimes said; it was all done with clever lighting.
Shooting the title number was just terrible for the photographer,” Kelly recalled. “He had to backlight all the rain and then he had to put frontlight on the performer. That was as tough a job as I’ve ever seen, because you can’t photograph in rain and see it. (Last Limelight reference, I promise. The article as a whole is fascinating, but, as noted above, it’s behind a paywall. I had a subscription at the time I accessed this material, and I’d say it’s probably worth the fee just to read this one article.)
3. The sounds of Kelly’s tap-dancing had to be dubbed in later.
And about the movie as a whole: (I’m over my self-imposed word limit of around 1,000 words, so you have my permission to skip this part and go directly to the videos.)
1. Did you ever wonder why Debbie Reynolds’ character doesn’t show up in the dream ballet sequence? Shouldn’t she be the one that Kelly is pursuing? Well, yes. You know why she isn’t in those scenes? Because she wasn’t actually a dancer. She had never done any dancing for the stage; she was a gymnast. And she was only 18 when she was cast. I haven’t actually tracked down the whole story of how she got the part in the first place, you’ll be astonished to know. But it was recognized that she just wasn’t up to the demands of this section. Leslie Caron wasn’t available but Cyd Charisse was, as she had had to get out of a previous contract because of a pregnancy. When the movie was filmed she was only 2-3 months out from childbirth. Man! (Some moves had to be cut from the famous green-dress dance because they were considered too suggestive; apparently if you’re really alert you can spot the splice.) I don’t get most “dream sequence” parts in musicals; the one in Oklahoma, for example, leaves me totally scratching my head. For the Singin’ sequence, somebody came up with the idea of Charisse’s character being a gangster’s moll, so that’s what she is. But then what’s going on in that whole scene with the big white veil thingy on the beach? Beats me. It’s sort of a dream sequence within a dream sequence.
2. Gene Kelly was a total workaholic; kind, charming, affable—until you said the word “no,” which apparently was not in his vocabulary.
3. Remember the stories about Ginger Rodgers’ having bleeding feet after some of her big dance numbers with Astaire? Well, that was also true about Debbie Reynolds after the “Good Morning” sequence. I have a hard enough time just standing through our concerts in heels! And, just so you know that I do admire Fred Astaire even if I don’t find him particularly, er, sexy, I’ll include an example of his niceness in that he found Reynolds crying under the piano after that scene and gave her some extra dance coaching.
Well, I’d better quit. Here, as promised, is a clip from the first film use of the song. You don’t get to see the backdrop rise to show the Ark; that was in a separate video that for some reason has been removed by YouTube.. And, although everyone’s seen it about a million times, I’m also including the Kelly clip and, since I went on and on about it, the dream sequence ballet. (Note that you have to pay to watch the entire movie; apparently the movie studios have wised up. But it’s totally worth $4.16, with tax!)
And a really nice choral arrangement:
© Debi Simons
