The Movie Musical!
Jeanine Basinger
Alfred A. Knopf (November 2019)

The single best source for information and insights, “from then until now”

As Jeanine Basinger explains, she wrote this book in order to tell the story of a uniquely entertaining genre, the movie musical, from The Jazz Singer in 1927 until La La Land in 2016. You may not always agree with her opinions (I certainly do not) but I think you’ll agree that her narrative evokes countless memories of magical moments.

Others have noted errors that suggest careless research. I was not aware of them until they were called to my attention. Frankly, I had so much fun reconnecting with the great singers, dancers, composers, and directors that Basinger discusses that I was swept along with the flow of information and insights.

Much of value can be learned. For example, “musicals are all about structure. They have to accomplish a story presentation that combines musical and nonmusical elements in a seamless way. They are constantly challenged not only by the need for plot, believable characters, motivations, etc., but also by the need to find a reason for someone singing and dancing. They need to justify musical performance and find a way to transition in and out of the performance mode. Over time, audiences became accustomed to the transitions, and often accepted some very sophisticated variations of it without wondering where they were or what was happening.”

If great movie musicals have a secret sauce, it consists of seamless transitions that involve dialogue, song, and dance.  Consider “Make ‘Em Laugh” and then “Singin’ in the Rain” in one of my personal favorites. Tone and timing in that film are just right.

Here are brief excerpts that suggest the thrust and flavor of  Basinger’s prose:

“Films that were filmed silent with sound added, such as The Jazz Singer [1927], were called ‘part-talkies.’ Part-talkies were not always musicals…There is very little spoken dialogue in the film, and the only recorded back-and-forth conversation is between [Al] Jolson and his mother, but there is plenty of music in the film…The idea that movies could be ‘part-talkie’ — that is have some sound in them, but only where it seemed appropriate or necessary or interesting — might make it possible to think of all musicals as part-talkie…the other part being people not talking, but singing and dancing.” (Page 30)

Several structural issues are successfully addressed and resolved in Singin’ in the Rain (1952), “the musical for people who don’t like musicals. Love it or hate it (and few hate it), overrate it or underrate it, Singin’ in the Rain makes a perfect musical yardstick. For people who don’t like musicals,  it’s still a very funny comedy. For people who don’t want comedy, there’s a charming romance. For people who think that romance is sappy, there’s the history of the transition to sound in film treated with great humor. And for everyone who wants a musical, there are all kinds of different numbers, old tunes and new tunes and great performers to present them. It’s also a good way to see why [Arthur] Freed productions were hits. (439)

Note: Those hits include Singin’ in the Rain (1952), An American in Paris, (1951), Show Boat (1951), Annie Get Your Gun (1950), and On the Town (1949).

West Side Story (1961) “provided a possible way to resolve the tension between the real and the unreal linked to musical performance: act as if there’s no difference between them on a daily basis. Present a world in which people sing and dance as if that is what reality is. Music and plot were seamlessly integrated in  West Side Story. Music is what matters, and it provides everything: characterization, delineation of emotions, and direct communication among people. But it also reveals the way the genre is heading: to self-consciously making viewers aware of its devices as devices.” (514)

All That Jazz (1979) “is, let’s hope, the only musical that incorporated open heart surgery into the world (with an actual beating heart revealed), and also the only one that ends up with the protagonist in a body bag.

“Bob Fosse modernized the musical, whether anyone wanted it modernized or not. He upgraded it to contain sex, sin, and disaster. None of those elements were ever really absent in earlier musicals, but they were offstage, or briefly apparent, or buried in musical numbers. Fosse brought them on front and center.” (521)

Like Scrooge and the three ghosts, I was visited by Eddie Foy, Jr. insisting “I’ll Never Be Jealous Again” in Pajama Game, by Dick van Dyke urging a sad little girl to “Put On A Happy Face” in Bye Bye Birdie, and by Julie Andrews revealing “My Favorite Things” in The Sound of Music. I saw each perform with the original cast on Broadway. Fortunately, I can see these and other films again — and again and again — on film.

One final point. The less contrived and more natural a movie musical seems, the more enjoyable it is for me. I cannot think of Noel Coward singing “Ol’ Man RIver” nor can I think of anyone else singing “Mad Dogs and Englishmen.” Performers must be appropriate to the roles they portray. They must have the talent and energy as well as the personality required. Meanwhile, song and dance components must not disrupt the flow of the given story.

The errors in this book’s historical material are unfortunate but, for me, relatively insignificant. I am deeply grateful to Jeanine Basinger for two reasons: For learning what I did not previously know about movie musicals as an art form, and, for enabling so many “reunions” with my own favorite moments during the last forty years.