Fred Astaire

  • Shall We Dance (1937)

    Shall We Dance (1937)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) As much as all Astaire/Rogers romantic comedies are to be treasured forever, not all of them are created equal, and Shall We Dance is definitely in the lower tier. The plot is just as typically irrelevant as in their other films, except that it’s convoluted and uninteresting. Worse, the musical numbers tend to be underwhelming and forgettable. Only a few—like the roller-skate sequence—stick in mind and few of them are anthology pieces. One interesting exception is the “Slap that Bass” sequence (never has a ship’s engine room has been so clean, nor so art deco!), which showcases Astaire’s ideal of racial integration in a way that’s more easily digestible than other attempts involving blackface.  The relationship between both lead characters also seems healthier than the norm for Astaire films—something probably motivated by the growing rapport between the two. Still, there are plenty of missed opportunities and underwhelming execution here: the pacing is slow, it takes a long time to see the two leads dancing, there isn’t much of a romantic duet, and the comedy is lacking. Shall We Dance is still worth a watch (1930s Astaire on an off day is still superhuman), but it does fall short compared to their other movies of the time.

  • Royal Wedding (1951)

    Royal Wedding (1951)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) For fans of classic films, it’s a bit of a generational shock to realize that the Royal Wedding in 1951’s Royal Wedding has to do with Queen Elizabeth II—another piece of evidence about her incredibly long reign. Otherwise, though, I suspect that most viewers will focus on the one thing in the film that hasn’t aged—Fred Astaire’s performance and he tap-dances and sings his way through this movie musical. Astaire was a practised professional at that time and the film sports most of the specific trademarks of his performances—the quirky solo number (this time dancing with a hatrack), the funny duet (as the ship’s deck rolls under them), the innovative special-effects dance number (the film’s most famous sequence, as Astaire dances on the walls and ceiling of the room, filmed from within a rotating set), a sequence coming from a show (with Jane Powell), a big ensemble song-and-dance finale (“I let my hat in Haiti”) and so on—the only notable omission being a romantic dance duet, somewhat explained by how the only dancing partner Astaire has here, Powell, plays his character’s sister. The other thing missing is a big finale: After the ensemble song-and-dance, Royal Wedding still has five minutes filled with stock footage of Elizabeth II’s ceremony and a perfunctory double wedding to wrap things up. In the pantheon of Astaire’s musical comedies, this is solidly middle-tier material even if two of the sequences (the hatrack and revolving-room sequences) are literally anthology pieces in the That’s Entertainment series. Compared to the average movie musical of the period, though, Royal Wedding is still very much worth a watch: Director Stanley Donnen and Astaire are old hands at what they do best here, and if Jane Powell is a bit bland here, she does fill the shoes required of an Astaire screen partner (although, significantly, she’s not featured very much in the dancing). I liked Royal Wedding quite a bit (it helps that Astaire’s caddish persona is toned down slightly, as is his no-means-try-later persistence) but I can definitely think of many better entry points to his filmography.

  • Flying Down to Rio (1933)

    Flying Down to Rio (1933)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) Everyone’s got to start somewhere, but for any viewer since 1934 it’s still a bit strange to see Fred Astaire in a supporting role in his first feature film Flying Down to Rio. It wasn’t his first feature film, but only by a technicality: A month earlier, Astaire showed up on screens for a single scene (playing himself) in Dancing Lady. Considering that there wasn’t anything to play in the earlier film, you can consider his supporting character role in Flying Down to Rio to be his first movie role as an actor—and more significantly, the first of his legendary pairings with Ginger Rogers. Any Astaire fan can clearly see that Hollywood didn’t know what to do with him yet—being relegated to a romantic subplot is something, but the way the camera captures his dancing (full frame but not full body, often obscured by others and relegated to the background, clearly not commanding the screen like he would in later films) is somewhat atypical for him. Still, Flying Down to Rio’s breezy fun still makes up for the less-than-reverent place given to Astaire: as a slightly naughty Pre-Code musical comedy that can escape to the exotic atmosphere of Rio de Janeiro, the film often feels significantly more risqué than the rest of Astaire’s career—the “Just a Gigolo” number is amusing, and his later films would most definitely not feature a dark-haired beauty lead actress in a two-piece bikini. One more thing distinguishes this early effort from Astaire’s later romantic-cad persona—his character shows up as a fiancé rather than going through the persistent-suitor routine… and I count this as an improvement of sorts. Aside from Astaire, Flying Down to Rio has a few other assets: the lead couple’s romantic adventures are entertaining, lead actress Dolores Del Rio is underused, Etta Moren is lovely as “the colored singer” (this is a direct quote from the credits) and the film ends on a very high note with an early special-effects showcase featuring a line of dancers on planes flying high above Rio. Still, the film’s most convincing asset here remains Astaire, who makes the most out of a secondary role and clearly shows his chemistry with Rogers. No wonder that by the following year, The Gay Divorcee would launch a long series of classic Astaire films, with or without Rogers at his side.

  • Broadway Melody of 1940 (1940)

    Broadway Melody of 1940 (1940)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2020) The Broadway Melody series goes out with a bang in the fourth and final instalment Broadway Melody of 1940. If you want to talk about individual films leaving a legacy, consider that this is the only on-screen pairing of two of the era’s greatest dancers at the height of their powers—Fred Astaire in fine youthful form, and the equally-impressive tap-dancing sensation Eleanor Russell. They share two dancing numbers, and they are both terrific: the first number is loose, flirty and fun, while the second is polished (musically and visually) and carefully controlled. Other delights abound; the film gets started on a strong note with a dual-tap dancing sequence featuring Astaire and George Murphy. Then there’s a fun ball-balancing act. The nautical stage number is a prowess of set design. The Broadway-themed plot shows up just enough to string along the dancer numbers, and that’s all we need. Movie musicals historians will tell you that this was Powell’s last major film, the first of Astaire’s second MGM contract, and the last big black-and-white musical from MGM. But what’s important is that Broadway Melody of 1940 captures some incredible performances and can still be watched with great interest eighty years later. Now that’s a legacy!

  • Holiday Inn (1942)

    Holiday Inn (1942)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2020) Most of Fred Astaire’s musicals are good, and almost all of his good ones are easy recommendation. Holiday Inn, while ranking high on musical and dancing value alone (I mean— it does have Bing Crosby as a co-star, and it introduced the holiday standard “White Christmas”) now comes with warnings—the film is structured around seasonal songs, and one musical number comes with blackface. Like—a lot of blackface, Bing Crosby in blackface, a grotesque blackface getup for the female lead and real black people singing a verse but segregated from the film’s stars. Oh, and all of that to celebrate Lincoln’s birthday. Like—whyyy? You can’t even rationalize it as a homage (like Astaire in Swing Time) or as thematically apropos: Practically nothing about the song would have changed had been done without blackface. Anyway— that’s why Holiday Inn shown on non-specialist channels often cut out this sequence. I disagree with the edit (films should reflect their production era, warts and all) but I can’t quite find fault with those who want to show the film as a holiday classic without getting deep in the discussion of what’s appropriate for all audiences. The catch is that once you excise that blackface sequence, the rest of Holiday Inn becomes far less controversial. Parts of it are even fun: Crosby and Astaire make for a good on-screen match, with Astaire playing the fiancée-stealing cad, getting drunk and dancing while Crosby’s singing. The premise (a hotel only opens for holidays, with big musical numbers taking on a seasonal flavour) barely makes sense but we’re not really here for verisimilitude. The blackface may be the lowlight, but the highlights include firecrackers to enhance Astaire’s tap-dancing, a first draft of “Easter Sunday” (later re-used in one of Astaire’s better movies) and a funny Washington’s Day skit mixing all kinds of music. For Astaire fans, Holiday Inn ends up toward the middle of his filmography—good production values, decent music from Irving Berlin, a few interesting set-pieces, but dragged down by a scene that you almost want to fast-forward through and can’t really recommend to anyone.

  • Ziegfeld Follies (1945)

    Ziegfeld Follies (1945)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, August 2019) For fans of golden-age Hollywood musicals, it’s easy to get excited about Ziegfeld Follies from the get-go, as the names pile up the opening credits: Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Judy Garland, Cyd Charisse, Lena Horne, Lucille Ball in the same movie? Well, yes, but don’t expect a full narrative: As the opening number makes clear (featuring William Powell reprising his titular role in the Oscar-winning The Great Ziegfeld, looking down from paradise and wishing he could assemble another revue), this is a series of unconnected musical numbers and comic sketches featuring some of the era’s biggest stars. First number “Here’s to the Girls/Bring on the Wonderful Men” gets going with a bang, with Fred Astaire introducing Cyd Charisse leading to Lucille Ball in full grandiose Ziegfeld choreography, with a cute and very funny spoof from the deadpan Virginia O’Brien to wrap it up. The comedy numbers that follow have nearly all aged poorly—the comic style is broad, repetitive and laid on far too thick. The exception is the half-comedy, half-musical number “The Great Lady Has an Interview” in which a great-looking Judy Garland sings and charms her way through a satire of interviews—the number concludes with an extended comedy/dance/song tour de force from Garland. Still, there’s a lot more: Astaire features in three other numbers in the film, all of them quite different. “This Heart of Mine” starts on a conventional note with Astaire as a gentleman thief sneaking his way in a jewelry-heavy ball, where he dances with Lucille Bremer—but then the floor under them becomes a pair of treadmills and then a giant turntable and we see Astaire’s gift for innovative dance choreography take flight, leading to a cute conclusion. “Limehouse Blues” is something different, billed as a “dramatic pantomime” with a tragic storyline that takes Astaire (in yellowface, alas) through a vividly imagined Asian-inspired dance. But the kicker is “The Babbitt and The Bromide,” the sole golden-era joint performance by Astaire and Gene Kelly: the number plays up both the sincere admiration and the playful audience-imposed rivalry between the two screen legends. It’s everything such a joint performance between the two should be. For fans of more classical dancing/singing numbers, Esther Williams, Lena Horne and Kathryn Grayson all get standard numbers showing both their beauty and talent. A few other numbers and sketches round the film, perhaps the only other highlight being a half-funny comic sketch featuring Fanny Brice (one of Ziegfeld’s original 1910s girls) with Hume Cronyn (an actor still remembered in the 2010s for roles in 1980s films)—an astonishing duo. Disconnected, uneven but very impressive at times, Ziegfeld Follies is a real treat for golden Hollywood musical fans.

  • Silk Stockings (1957)

    Silk Stockings (1957)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Sadly, I’m counting down the last few Freed-unit MGM musicals on my list—I can see why they were hailed as the best in the business, and there aren’t that many left for me to watch. I would expect a downward quality trend in getting to the less famous movies, but Silk Stockings is a strong entry in the musical corpus. It’s a decent musical adaptation of 1939’s Ninotchka, with Cyd Charisse stepping into the Garbo role in a movie at the measure of her legs—her solo number “Satin and Silk” is both funny and sexy, within a role that takes advantage of both her dancing abilities as well as her ice-queen acting range. The film has Fred Astaire as a movie executive trying to put together a project in Paris, which requires convincing Russian artists to work for the capitalistic west. Charisse plays a humourless Soviet operative gradually seduced by the leading man and Paris’s considerable attractions. The West-versus-East element of the original 1939 film plays far better in the middle of the Cold War, and this mid-1950s film also captures other obsessions of the era—most notably the decade’s obsession in distinguishing movies from TV through colour cinematography, widescreen framing and “Stereophonic Sound.” (It’s, by far, my favourite number of the film despite a dodgy cadence.)  Another highlight is “Red Blues,” as the gentle poking at Soviet rigidity finally makes its way over the Iron Curtain. There’s plenty to like in the acting, as long as you accept Astaire once again being in Paris with a much younger partner (as in the same year’s Funny Face)—if it helps stomach the 22-year age difference between them, keep in mind that few actresses, no matter their age, could keep up with Astaire’s dancing. This being said, Astaire is up to his usual very high standards (he keeps the best for last with an iconic final “The Ritz Roll and Rock”), but Charisse has the tougher role as the rigid accented Nina, slowly transforming over the course of the film. Their duet is quite good as well, perhaps echoing their comfort together after working on The Band Wagon four years earlier. Peter Lorre also has a funny small role. While Hollywood history is rife with disastrous musical remakes of earlier works, this certainly isn’t the case with Silk Stockings. Much like the quasi-contemporary High Society, it takes a good film and delivers something equally good in a slightly different way. It’s one of the essential musicals of the 1950s.

  • The Band Wagon (1953)

    The Band Wagon (1953)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) As a seasoned cinephile with thousands of reviews filed on this very web site, I’m far too jaded to start saying things such as “an instant personal favourite!” … but The Band Wagon is something different. Sometimes billed as “everyone’s second-favourite movie musical after Singin’ in the Rain,” it lives up to the hype: filled with striking numbers, bolstered by a cast headlined by Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse, directed by Vincente Minnelli and produced by Arthur Freed, this is as good and as fun as musicals ever got. Astaire anchors the film in a role that smirks at his own personal situation at the time—coming out of retirement to play an entertainer looking for a comeback picture. Opposite him is Charisse, and romantic dance duets don’t get any better than their “Dancing in the Dark” with two of the greatest-of-all-time dancers playing together. But that’s a rare serious/romantic moment in an otherwise comedy-filled picture. “That’s Entertainment” is a pure earworm classic with plenty of sight gags, while “Triplets” is a darkly funny number that will surprise a few and “Shine on Your Shoes” gets Astaire dancing up a solo storm. Still, my favourite number has to be “Girl Hunt Ballet” which mixes two of my favourite movie genres—musicals and film noir—into an incredible, consciously over-the-top result. The theatrical setting of the story (in which a Broadway troupe rallies together to rescue a failing show) allows for plenty of show-business in-jokes and commentary, in keeping with the best musicals of the time. I’m not so happy at the 23-year age difference between Astaire and Charisse, but which fifty-something actor/dancer could hope to keep up with a talent as singular as Astaire? It’s a small blemish on an otherwise incredibly compelling picture—I’ve already watched The Band Wagon twice before writing this review, and—indeed—I’m placing it right under Singin’ in the Rain as one of my favourite musicals.

  • That’s Entertainment! III (1994)

    That’s Entertainment! III (1994)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Third instalment in the now-classic anthology series, That’s Entertainment! III is farther away from its 1950ish source material than its predecessors and consequently much less reverential. It innovates by featuring behind-the-scenes footage, cut numbers (some of them better than those that replaced them), a focus on lesser-known stars (such as my favourites Ann Miller and Cyd Charisse—who looks amazing in her sixties as she presents a segment of the film) and some attention to non-white performers (with Lena Horne even acknowledging that Hollywood wasn’t ready for them). Under this new focus, there are plenty of things to wow about: Eleanor Powell’s dancing remains as astonishing at the techniques used to film it, a wonderful ditty sung by Horne in a bathtub, and a split-screen comparison of a Fred Astaire routine performed several weeks apart shows the amazing control that he had over his performances. On the other hand, I’m not a big fan of the stupidly racist Judy Garland bit “I’m an Indian Too,” which should have stayed buried in the vaults. As with the other films of the series, That’s Entertainment! III can be revisited at several stages in a classic movie cinephile’s evolution: As an introduction to some terrific movies and performers, as an exploration of a few familiar favourites, or as delightful complements to one’s existing knowledge of the era. No matter how you choose to see it, it’s a great anthology movie, and it’s well-worth watching alongside the others.

  • That’s Entertainment, Part II (1976)

    That’s Entertainment, Part II (1976)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) As amazing as the first That’s Entertainment movie musical compilation film can be, there’s a good argument to be made that That’s Entertainment, Part II is equally impressive, albeit in slightly different ways. Directed by dance legend Gene Kelly, it features Kelly and Fred Astaire in their second (and last) dance sequence together—which doubled as Astaire’s last dance number as well. Both of them get to present clips (Kelly even showing up in Paris), which are one bundle of joy after another. This follow-up is a more deliberate affair than the first, with a conscious intention to go beyond MGM musicals to encompass comedy skits (including the Marx Brothers’ famous stateroom sequence) and tributes to non-musical stars and a retrospective about Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Still, the foundations of the film are the musical clips, and the MGM catalogue is so deep that the result is still well worth a look even when it’s missing the most classic numbers already featured in the first film. That’s Entertainment, Part II can work both for neophytes and jaded fans of the musical genre: By introducing the highlights for newcomers, and by reminding connoisseurs of what they’ve seen: There’s a mixture of discovery and appreciation throughout. Being somewhere between the two extremes at the moment, I had fun identifying films I had already seen and performers I already knew, all the while taking notes of movies that I had to see next. One warning: The title song “That’s Entertainment” attains earworm status at some point during the course of the film. It’s a very small price to pay (if it’s even one) for a great retrospective.

  • Top Hat (1935)

    Top Hat (1935)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) From 1933 to 1945, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made nine movies together, revolutionizing the movie musical along the way. While I think that The Gay Divorcee is the funniest of those movies and Swing Time the best from a dancing standpoint, Top Hat is usually mentioned as the most successful of those nine pictures. It certainly gets a lot of mileage out of the classic “Cheek to Cheek” number, but perhaps the best thing about it is how it distills the Astaire/Rogers formula to its purest: A romantic comedy, with catchy music and terrific numbers spanning the gamut from funny to classy. There’s a solo tap-dancing showcase for Astaire, there are gorgeous costumes (wow, that feather dress!), there’s screwball comedy of mistaken identities, there’s an astonishing multi-storey set meant to present a fantasy version of Venice and, of course, there’s the idealized couple dancing away. With that formula, it’s a guaranteed fun time. The comedy is formulaic to the point of having miscommunication naturally escalates to good-natured slapping, which is in-keeping with mid-1930s comedy. If the Astaire/Ginger partnership worked so well compared to some other Astaire partners, it’s because the age difference between the two was a “mere” 12 years, but also because Rogers could keep up with him better than others. (If you’re paying attention to the other perennial issue in Astaire movies, that of consent in romantic pursuits, it’s still here but not as blatant as in other films.) Top Hat may not be all that substantial, but it remains exhilarating entertainment in the classic Hollywood glamour tradition. Since seeing the film, I managed to find a DVD copy—just so that I can watch it at any time.

  • Funny Face (1957)

    Funny Face (1957)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2019) On paper, Funny Face looks like a perfect combination: A musical comedy with Fred Astaire, Audrey Hepburn and Paris. Thankfully, the film lives up to expectations: Fred Astaire dances as well as he can, and while Hepburn isn’t quite as much of a dancer as some of Astaire’s other screen partners, she did have dancing (and singing!) chops and couldn’t possibly be cuter as an intellectual bookseller—even Hollywood’s idea of an intellectual bookseller. Paris and Hepburn were a regular item (“Bonjour, Paris !”), but they look great together and the film doesn’t miss a chance to use a French stereotype when it can. (I had to laugh at the spat between two bohemian Parisians: “Salaud ! Dégueulasse ! *Slap* *Kiss*”) Unlike some musicals, Funny Face does have strong comic elements: The look at a fashion magazine—Astaire plays a fashion photographer—is amusing, and seeing both Astaire and Hepburn as black-clad undercover beatniks is hilarious especially as they skewer the philosophical excesses of Left-Bank thinkers. (Alas, Funny Face does have an anti-intellectual bent, but so it goes in musicals.) The romantic ending is more conventional and not as interesting, but as usual the fun is getting there. Less fortunately, you do have to get over the usual Astaire romantic issues in liking the film: His characters are often written as having revolting ideas about consent in the face of romantic persistence (“No” usually means “try again later with more charm” in his movies) and there’s a thirty-year difference between Astaire and Hepburn. That last item used to infuriate me, but then I recently realized that very few people could keep up with Astaire as a dancer—younger actresses at least had a chance to move as quickly and gracefully as he did. (It’s not much of an excuse, but it’s the one I cling to.) If you can manage to get past that, Funny Face is a perfectly charming and enjoyable musical, somewhere between a classic and a strong representative entry in the genre. (While technically a Paramount production, a number of key crewmembers such as director Stanley Donen were from MGM’s legendary Freed unit.) Plus, of course, it’s an essential piece of Hepburn’s filmography by showcasing her at her best.

  • That’s Entertainment! (1974)

    That’s Entertainment! (1974)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, December 2018) In the running for the title of the greatest clip show ever made, That’s Entertainment! does have the advantage of great source material to draw from: nothing less than the heydays of MGM musicals, featuring greats such as Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly and so many others that it would be exhausting to list them all. Various stars such as James Stewart, Bing Crosby and Elizabeth Taylor introduce some of the archival segments. Helmed by writer/director Jack Haley Jr. from MGM’s library extensive library, the film is a pure celebration of musicals as an art form, and of MGM as a powerhouse studio. Ironically, the film also acts as a tombstone for the classical MGM—filmed on the studio’s backlot, That’s Entertainment! presents the MGM studios right after they were sold off to finance the studio’s debts. As a result, the backdrop behind the presenters is decrepit, rusted, faded, overgrown with weeds, showing Hollywood’s past grandeur in a documentary fashion. The contrast between that and the clip shows is astounding, as we get a quick greatest hits of MGM’s most memorable numbers and fascinating segments about Astaire, Kelly, Esther Williams and Judy Garland. That’s Entertainment! is an absolutely fascinating film, and it deserves its enduring popularity—TCM even used it, along with its sequels, as a perfect lead in to the New Year’s Eve celebrations. Now, I want a good affordable copy of it on Blu-Ray.

  • Easter Parade (1948)

    Easter Parade (1948)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, December 2018) A good musical comedy is timeless, and Easter Parade is better than most. Here we have Fred Astaire as a Broadway singer pairing up with a young singing sensation played by Judy Garland in an effort to make his ex-partner (on-and-off-stage) jealous. That’s really an excuse to string along musical numbers, of course, and Easter Parade plays that game well. Astaire is in fine form, MGM’s Freed unit was near the top of its game and few expenses were spared along the way. I’d like it a lot better if Judy Garland and Ann Miller (who plays the ex-partner) switched roles, but I seem to be in the minority in my overall lack of enthusiasm for Garland. Still, Miller gets at least one good solo number (“Shaking the Blues Away”) and it’s fun to see her as the romantic antagonist. The film’s by-the-numbers plotting lets the musical numbers shine through: the highlights include the Astaire/Garland comedic “We’re a Couple of Swells”, but especially the Astaire number “Steppin’ Out with My Baby”, which mixed optical trickery to show Astaire’s dance moves in slow motion. The early-1910s Manhattan atmosphere is convincing, with all the stops pulled out for the title end number. Astaire, like in most of his movies, is too old for his co-star, but then again which woman, no matter her age, could keep up with his dance moves? Worth watching at any time of the year, Easter Parade is among the best of the MGM musicals, and remains a minor landmark in Astaire, Garland or Miller’s careers.

  • Finian’s Rainbow (1968)

    Finian’s Rainbow (1968)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, December 2018) Being right doesn’t mean much when you’re late, and unfortunately that’s the first conclusion I get from watching Finian’s Rainbow, an old-fashioned musical that has the right moral values about racism but the rotten luck of making it to theatres one year after movies such as In the Heat of the Night and Guess who’s Coming to Dinner completely changed the Hollywood conversation about racial injustice in the United States. As New Hollywood was remaking the film industry in a far different image, Finian’s Rainbow was torn between new issues and old-fashioned style, featuring no less than Fred Astaire singing and dancing about racial injustice while dealing with a meddlesome leprechaun trying to get its gold back. Yeah… I’m not making this up. It’s a musical in the purest tradition of the form, but it would have been so much better had it been made ten years earlier. Astaire isn’t bad, but he looks truly old here—I mean: he never looked young even when he was, but here age has visibly caught up to him, and his great dance routines look almost dangerous. Petunia Clark is fine as his daughter, but much of the comedy and remarkable performances come from other players (including Tommy Steele as a hyper-caffeinated leprechaun) in this bizarre southern state/Irish-mythology mash-up. The film’s message against racial discrimination goes through an incredibly racist character being magically transformed into a black person (hello blackface) in time to travel with a small group of singers—the song is great (“The Begat”), but everything leading to it has issues of some sort. Plus, it’s directed by none other than Francis Ford Coppola. Finian’s Rainbow, as you can guess, is a strange blend—sometimes great, sometimes endearing, sometimes dumbfounding and sometimes uncomfortable. It’s certainly interesting, but I’m going to stop myself from calling it a must-watch.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, March 2021) In retrospect, I’ve been too harsh on Finian’s Rainbow. Most of what struck me on a first viewing is still applicable to a second, but they don’t bother me nearly as much. Astaire looks old, but he does what he can and even the accumulating wrinkles can’t quite stop him from being an entertainer – and the film doesn’t focus nearly as much on him as it would have in earlier years. After all, he actually plays a father here. I’m also not quite as bothered by the film’s comic treatment of racism – it’s meant to be ridiculous, and the film does have its heart in the right place in mocking racists even when it’s recreating clichés along the way. I still don’t care all that much about the leprechaun and his gold, but some of the musical sequence staging (helmed by a young Francis Ford Coppola, once again worth highlighting) is vigorous and eye-catching. I still think Finian’s Rainbow has plenty of flaws, but they don’t annoy me as badly this second time around.