Singin’ in the Rain

Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, and Donald O'Connor in Singin' in the Rain (1952)

★ ★★★★


I dare you not to smile while watching Singin’ in the Rain. The musical is a genre that Hollywood has always identified with. Singin’ in the Rain has been always been heralded as the genre’s king, and rightfully so. I was anticipating revisiting this film because I fell in love with it the first time I saw it. I actually had the movie poster on my wall in my first apartment when I moved out to the Dallas/Fort Worth area on my own as a young adult. Fall break was the perfect time to watch this on a lazy afternoon and I was a little anxious to ask Hallie (my oldest daughter) to watch it with me. She loves musicals and is an active member of our local theater, but I was afraid it would be too dated for her. I was relieved to find that not only did she stick with it, but she also seemed to genuinely enjoy it. Parent win!

Besides the outstanding musical numbers, part of the reason this movie has to be so high on the AFI list is that Hollywood loves movies about making movies. Charismatic, silent film star Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) is forced to navigate a newfound romance with a chorus girl (Debbie Reynolds) with his lesser-talented screen partner (Jean Hagen) as they transition to the new world of talkies in 1920s Hollywood. With his partner and collaborator in tow (Donald O’Connor), Lockwood does his best to work the studio system through song and dance to keep his standing as a leading star and replace the girl he has been forcefully partnered with.

I adore musicals but my wife has always given me a hard time for not being a big fan of tap dancing. It’s a fair statement by her, but she inquired why I liked this movie so much since it had so much tap in it. My answer to this question sums up why the musical numbers are so great. When there is a full musical number with straight-up tap in another movie, I lose interest. Not because I don’t appreciate the talent, but it’s a style that I have a hard time artistically buying into. The musical sequences in Singin’ in the Rain contain multiple styles in each song and each one of them has a joyous spirit. As soon as you feel like you are impressed by one thing, a different move or prop is incorporated to add another depth to the choreography. The dances are jaw-dropping. I tend to remember musicals for their songs, but this is one where I remember the movements more. I forced the rest of the family to watch the staircase descent on the super catchy “Good Morning” and how can you not be blown away by O’Connor as he flings his body all over the set in “Make ‘Em Laugh.” And of course, there is “Singin’ in the Rain” which is the ultimate earworm of all earworms. The way Kelly scales the light pole has always been iconic, but it also contains one of the most famous crane shots ever, which subsequently has been shown off in every montage ever shown at the Oscars.

As a lover of movies, I adore how this story serves as a history lesson to one of the biggest transitions that the industry ever had to deal with. Lina Lamont is the perfect foil to this bubbly set of characters and their ambitions. Her whiny and utterly annoying voice is hilarious and the whole hidden microphone scene is pitch-perfect, especially if you ever had to deal with audio issues during a production. Even though this story is obviously a heightened, positive exaggeration of how the industry dealt with the new advent of sound, it’s fun to see how a movie about movies interprets the transition. Kelly, Reynolds and O’Connor have undeniable chemistry and it’s such fun to champion them through this journey, though it’s obvious what the outcome will be.

Singin’ in the Rain has its rightful place on the throne. It’s the perfect movie to showcase to someone who refuses to see films older than a modern decade. You can say with ease, “See, this is why older musicals are so good!” It has amazing songs, a super-talented cast, amazing camera work and solid jokes. What’s not to love?

I give Singin’ in the Rain five out of five curtain calls. 

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