thoughts on ‘Singin’ In The Rain,’ the surrealism of musicals, and a brief review of the 70th anniversary 4K UHD Blu-Ray release
Some films are sacred on not just a cultural, but personal level. Others are the inverse. And then there are the special ones — the ones that everyone is touched by in some way, shape, or form. That we can all agree are special, unassailable. Pictures that leave imprints on the culture and inside of us.
Singin’ In The Rain‘s impact wasn’t predicted. The film was a modest hit at release, and fared well enough with critics, but it was far from exalted. My professors recalled periods in their critical circles, in fact, where it felt the film wasn’t regarded as more than the sum of its parts. Which – looking at it in 2024 – it certainly is. Bookended by a recent spree of musicals, it becomes quite clear just how different Singin’ In The Rain is from its contemporaries. Further, it’s a great deal smarter and more slippery than many Technicolor musicals that came after it.
From where I stand, that has everything to do with its self-awareness. Arthur Freed conceived this as a cinematic jukebox musical of sorts — he’d throw it back to Gershwin, Berlin, and many of the other songwriters behind 30s hits. (And his own, naturally!) It was to be a love letter to film – a love letter to music, centered around booming star Gene Kelly.
What we got is clearly very different, but the DNA remains. Observe the “You Were Meant For Me” sequence between Kelly and Reynolds, specifically the melody and physicality of the performers. (The song itself is from a 1929 show titled Broadway Melodies.)Then hop over to Top Hat or Follow The Fleet for similar sequences – a jauntier dynamic in “Isn’t It A Lovely Day,” or the same slower cadence in “Let’s Face The Music,” respectively. I’m sure there are other Astaire films that it’s nodding to that I’ve not seen, as well. Astaire even helped Reynolds learn to dance after Kelly berated her for not being on his level.
Point being – Singin’ In The Rain was always intended as reverence. Somewhere along the way, though, it developed into more and more of a satire. The film gleefully lampoons the transition to sound pictures, taking cheap potshots at the “sausage factory” production model of Poverty Row silent studios. Some jokes feel fairer than others – I certainly think there’s a smug reduction of the era going on here. Generally, though, it leans on absurdity and stoogery to sell the comedy. It’s hard to not chuckle when Lina doesn’t know how to speak into the microphone, for example, or when she and Kelly use the Dueling Cavalier’s silence to bicker. So much of the comedy feels strangely modern, which is something I notice each time I’ve watched it over 16 years. Perhaps a better word, then, is “timeless.”
But Singin’ In The Rain wouldn’t be so memorable if it was simple satire. After all, the box office was chockablock with Hollywood spoofs in the early ‘50s. What sets this particular film apart is its commitment to absurdity and flirations with surrealism. The former comes in the form of broad slapstick antics and madcap performances, with Kelly and O’Connor making for a terrific tag team. From their dippy opening number as traveling vaudeville stars to the exuburent pranks of “Moses Supposes,” the two leading men are a formidable comic duo. Not to be discounted is Reynolds, who not only learned to dance for this, but managed to match her co-star’s energy with a wide-eyed and very physical performance. She’s bright-eyed, brash, loud – a secret fan turned willful foil. “Good Morning” simply wouldn’t be the same without her as the galvanizing, central force around which Kelly and O’Connor gravitate.
Meanwhile, Kelly’s eye for excess rears its head during the indulgent, dreamic, divisive “Broadway Melodies” sequence. Interpretative imagery and deliberate artificiality elevate the mise en scene to a different level than previous sequences. Much of the film is built around showing the audience “how the magic happens,” as it were – showcasing behind-the-scenes trickery as gags and romantic setpieces alike. But here, the film yanks this comfort away from us. Now we – the audience – are in the thrawl of what Kelly and Donen can pelt us with in 1952. It’s still tremendous, and leaps to the side of where contemporary Hollywood musicals were going. Imagery here evokes Kelly’s work in An American in Paris, as it boasts a similar sort of ‘heightened reality’ – a space that’s definitely not reality, but is almost certainly our own world. It’s a type of surrealism we’d see in his later Hello, Dolly!, which is a sublime exercise in surrealism in the film musical. “Broadway Melodies” is sometimes subject to criticism for its excess, as is Dolly. For me, it’s a hallmark of Kelly’s zany, askew vision of the world that anchors his work and gives it meaning.
Singin’ In The Rain not only holds up as the expressive masterpiece it is, but it looks better than ever thanks to a lovely 4K transfer on the UHD Blu-Ray. If you were in film classes around 2008-2016, you likely experienced the twilight years of older film professors breaking out their VHS copies. These days, I doubt that’s the case – if not, I’d love to be corrected. All three professors who showed this film in high school and college used the same VHS release, and I associate that look with the film. It almost looked wrong on 4K – I noticed little edges around the seams I never had.
Yet by the end, I was enraptured. There’s nothing quite like being able to see one of your favorite films in perfect clarity for the first time. It’s also rare that we get 4K transfers of ‘50s musicals, which is a shame when excellent pictures like South Pacific exist. (There’s a deeper absence of musicals on 4K UHD that troubles me, but this isn’t the place for a soapbox.) I digress – Singin’ In The Rain more than benefits from the facelift, with bright, aggressive primaries that pop off the screen like a candy shop in Times Square. Seeing this makes me shiver with anticipation when I consider the possibility of Sound of Music.
The audio transfer, too, deserves mention. I watched it with the new 5.1 track, which is crisp and immersive – not too dense with foley, but spiced up with just enough to make it feel like an encompassing environment. However, Warner also thankfully included a faithful stereo version of the original’s mono track. Audiophiles will be happy about this choice, as it represents a future where Warner might be more willing to include these tracks as supplementary material. After all, 5.1 didn’t really exist in popular film until late 1992, with the release of Batman Returns; it’s nice to be able to hear the film as intended. All-in-all, this is a release with care and effort put into it – a top shelf production.
Warner – the part that manages these legacy films – deserves some props for both this and the Wizard of Oz UHD releases. Releases like this are how these films deserve to be seen, even as musicals are generally seen as “passe” and not particularly valued by our modern culture, it feels.
Singin’ In The Rain, though, is for just about everyone. It’s a “musical for people who don’t like musicals.” It’s a “movie for theater kids,” a “true Hollywood classic,” a “spoof,” anything, everything. Like the rain itself – multitinuous, inevitable, and all-encompassing – this is a film so large, so consumptive that many people have many different relationships to.
What a wonderful feeling, indeed. There’s nothing else like it.
Singin’ In The Rain is available on 4K UHD Blu-Ray from Warner Brothers and available to stream on MAX. For more about the technical specs of the disc, check out Blu Ray.com’s review!
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