NR | 1h 33min | Musical | 1951
Show advertisements billed them as “New York’s favorite brother and sister,” but the singing-dancing fame of Tom (Fred Astaire) and Ellen (Jane Powell) Bowen stretches a little beyond America. Entertainment managers, the Klinger brothers, Irving (Keenan Wynn) and Edgar (also Wynn), persuade the performing duo to head across the ocean to ride the festive buzz surrounding England’s much anticipated Royal Wedding in 1947.
Irving in America and Edgar in England figure that the wedding offers global audiences, who are descending on London for the parade, a celebratory excuse to buy tickets to Bowen shows at the Mayfair Theater.
Tom’s struggling to get Ellen to rehearsals. Why? Her suitors are falling over themselves trying to get her attention. Then, Tom falls for dancer Anne Ashmond (Sarah Churchill), and Ellen, for Lord John Brindale (Peter Lawford).
Soon, the siblings are stealing time from rehearsals to be with their dates. Yet, upon reflection, they recoil at the prospect of getting married, even to someone they love. They wonder what’ll become of their independence as successful professionals, and their dependence on each other’s trust and warmth. Bells soon peal at Westminster Abbey. Is the royal parade ringing in something new for the Bowens?
Screenwriter-lyricist Alan Jay Lerner paints a subtle, if introspective, portrait of Astaire’s art in a scene where Tom and Anne quiz each other on their first date. Does he love dancing? He nods, “It’s hard work but it’s fun.” When did she first take to dancing? When she had her first crush; all she wanted to do was dance. She figured that if she danced whenever she was happy, she’d be happy, whenever she danced. That’s Lerner, saluting how Astaire had, for decades, used dance not only to express bliss but also to tide over the blues, not just for himself but for global audiences.
Dancing Partners, Dancing Props
Churchill and Lawford lend a royal touch to the film set. Churchill was daughter of then British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, and named after his ancestor, the Duchess of Marlborough. Lawford too hailed from the British aristocracy.
Powell’s soprano is on as many as six tracks. Watch how she swivels while walking with someone. Her entire torso, not just her face, tilts toward the person. Her smiling eyes make them feel special.
Donen’s saying that Astaire achieved such artistry that he could make any dancing partner look good. Frankly, it didn’t matter who—or what. In this film, his partner could be a hat-track, objects in a room, the room itself, or the heaving floor on a ship’s deck.
Astaire could tease classy new moves out of them, or himself. He’d stylishly find, playfully lose, then regain balance, all while playing hide-and-seek with gravity. Imagine for a moment, 1940s’ audiences unused to special effects, holding their breath in 1951, when a 52-year-old Astaire climbs up a sofa mid-song, slides up a wall, then glides up a ceiling, all while using the chair, carpet and, yes, even the chandelier as props.
Lerner inserts gentle bachelor-humor into Tom’s banter with a backstage colleague, breathless about the upcoming royal spectacle. Of course, Tom confesses, he likes weddings, as long as they’re not his.
The colleague persists. Hasn’t he ever considered marriage? Of course, Tom admits he did, but the lady changed her mind and he’s been indebted to her ever since. Wisecracks about the joys of perpetual bachelorhood aren’t digs at marriage; they’re nods at Astaire’s ability to take on any new dancing partner with such verve, she always felt she was his first.
