Norma Taurog’s
Broadway Melody of 1940 is really a
finale of sorts. On the one hand, it marks the end of MGM's lucrative series that
began with the Oscar-winning Broadway
Melody (1929/30). On the other, it's the last of the big B&W movie
musical spectacles that - in mood, tone and production values - harks back to
its two predecessors (Broadway Melody of
1936/38) rather than looking toward the real golden age of the MGM musical
that would dominate the 1940s and, arguably, reach its zenith with Meet Me In St. Louis in 1944.
Coincidentally, Broadway Melody of 1940
is also the last truly memorable musical to feature MGM's 'tops in taps'
leading lady, Eleanor Powell. Although Powell would continue to trip the light
fantastic until the mid-1940s as a novelty act in films like Thousands Cheer, hers was a style - that
like the film itself - would pass its prime shortly thereafter.
But Broadway Melody of 1940 also marks a
first. It is the first movie Fred Astaire made after his separation from Ginger
Rogers at RKO (an absence with only one reprieve; their reunion in The Barkleys of Broadway 1949). Astaire
was hardly a stranger to MGM. He had made his debut there opposite Joan
Crawford in Dancing Lady (1933). His
tenure with Ginger notwithstanding, rarely has Astaire been so ideally paired
as with Powell - a powerhouse who could hold her own. Eleanor Powell - what a
gal: beautiful, talented, smart and funny - a total package who blazed a
lightning streak of peerless perfection in musicals throughout the 1930s. And it is saying much of Ms. Powell as an
actress too that despite the strange similarities in all of the Broadway
Melodies, she manages to retain some of that world-wise/wholesome faced
innocence and excitement that kept this series alive and vital. Powell is, of
course an alumni of all but the original film, cast in remarkably similar parts
that put little strain on her acting prowess, but gave her ample room to tap up
a storm.
Leon Gordon
and George Oppenheimer's screenplay for Broadway
Melody of 1940 won't win an awards for originality, but it's serviceable
and with plenty of opportunity for both Astaire and Powell to do what they so obviously
love doing best - dance. On this
occasion, Powell is Claire Bennett – a girl already in a show but also in
search of a partner to accompany her, step for step, across the Great White
Way. Claire’s new leading man is King Shaw (George Murphy) – a small time
operator working with Astaire who gets his big break, then makes the least of
it by slipping on the good life and into alcoholism. The wrinkle is, of course,
that producer Bob Casey (Frank Morgan at his best) has mistaken King for Johnny
Brett (Astaire). While Johnny flounders to support himself in mediocre dance
halls, King begins to realize that he's actually ruining Johnny's chances to
hit the big time. So King fakes another bout of alcoholism, forcing the company
to make a last minute substitute and thereby give Johnny his big break.
Gordon and
Oppenheimer use this rather trite and threadbare narrative as a springboard for
various comedic gems; as when Bob repeatedly makes overtures to young beauties,
each believing he is about to make her a star. Morgan, not Murphy, is the real
third star of this film; bumbling, caustic, easily befuddled and thoroughly
misguided - in short, Frank Morgan. One of the things I miss most in today's
movies is the absence of such 'character' actors like Frank Morgan or S.Z.
Sakall. One glimpse of Morgan and we know immediately that we're in for a very
funny good time. Apart from Morgan, Broadway Melody of 1940 would have very
little to recommend it if not for its mesmerizing dance sequences. Astaire does
'Please Don't Monkey With Broadway' a
featherweight pas deux with George Murphy, but is at his most brilliant with
Powell during 'The Jukebox Dance' - a competition dance, and later, in disguise
for 'I Concentrate on You'. If
nothing else, Broadway Melody of 1940
is justly famous for its spectacular finale to Cole Porter's evergreen, Begin The Beguine.
The song
begins with a sultry Latin rumba styled serenade sung by Charlotte Arren that
gives way to a Powell solo. Backed by a shadowy chorus line of lovelies and silhouetted
palms reflected in an impossible glossy mirror floor made of poured glass,
Powell bedazzles us with her glycerin movements. Astaire appears in waist coat,
joining Powell for her whirls and twirls before the pair momentarily spin off
backstage. This transition clears the way for a change of beat, from Spanish
rumba to pompous swing. The Music Maids break out with an infectious pop
version of Begin the Beguine. Astaire
and Powell re-emerging from the wings, this time dressed in contemporary
clothes. What follows is a hypnotic few moments of undiluted tap dancing magic.
At one point even the music falls silent so that we hear nothing except the
strong clear clickety-clack of Astaire and Powell’s magic feet striking their
rhythms on that poured glass floor. Each whirls around the other before both
come to a full stop in unison, Powell’s billowy skirt defying the moment with a
pirouette of its own around her lissome body. Broadway Melody of 1940 is fondly and justly remembered today for
this one flawless moment of peerless perfection and it remains a wonderment to
behold. The rest of the film pales by comparison, but the structure of the
narrative ensures that we leave the theater with nothing but Begin the Beguine fluttering about our
minds.
Warner Home
Video’s DVD suffers from an inconsistently rendered picture. The opening
credits are clear as a bell. So is the opening musical number Please Don't Monkey With Broadway. But
then we get scene upon scene of low contrast, flickering images with more than
a hint of edge enhancement and shimmering of fine details. Contrast levels are
particularly bad during Astaire's solo I've
Got My Eye On You as well as Murphy and Powell's pas deux, I Concentrate On You. Thankfully, the
image snaps back into shape for Begin the
Beguine; smooth, sharp and nicely contrasted. The audio is mono, but well
represented with minimal hiss and pop. Extras include a toss-away featurette
hosted by Ann Miller and a theatrical trailer.
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)
3.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
2.5
EXTRAS
1
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