Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly’s musical makes the arrival of sound in Hollywood funny, troublesome and a reason to dance. The romance is slight, but the comic timing and pleasure of the performances make this an easy recommendation.
Singin’ in the Rain is generous entertainment with a useful comic suspicion of the people who make it. Directors Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly turn Hollywood’s move to sound into a succession of practical difficulties, giving talented people equipment that does not care how famous they are. We recommend it without requiring any fondness for old Hollywood: the jokes make sense the moment somebody has to work with the new machinery. Betty Comden and Adolph Green’s screenplay gives the singing and dancing room while keeping the business of making a film in view.
Jean Hagen, as Lina Lamont, is the chief reason the comedy stays so sharp. We laughed aloud at Lina’s trouble with the microphone. Hagen gives her indignation such conviction that we can enjoy the absurdity without dismissing the performer. She makes the difficulties of recording a voice funny through timing and temperament, and the scene has no need of a song to keep it moving.
Kelly’s Don Lockwood gives the film its assurance, and Cosmo Brown supplies a welcome unruliness. Kelly never seems to be counting steps, while O’Connor lets us feel the effort of a physical joke. Debbie Reynolds, as Kathy Selden, holds her place alongside them without seeming like an accessory to their act. The romance is thinly written, though Reynolds gives Kathy enough presence to keep it from feeling like a pause between routines.
Harold Rosson’s photography gives the dancers space, allowing us to follow their movements clearly. Adrienne Fazan’s editing preserves that pleasure while allowing the comic performances their pauses, particularly when Hagen has something to object to. The production design makes the studio surroundings enjoyable to look at without stealing attention from the people at work in them. Walter Plunkett’s costumes contribute to the bright colour and keep the period visible even when the dancing takes over.
Cosmo Brown’s music has the directness this kind of comedy needs: tunes that make an immediate impression and still leave room for a performer to play. The title number is a good measure of the film’s confidence, trusting Kelly’s dancing in the rain to hold our attention. It made us happier than we expected; his pleasure in moving is so clear that the sequence does not need a further joke to justify itself.
The film is less curious about anyone who might be left behind by the change to sound. Comden and Green find plenty of comedy in professional panic, but their sympathy has limits when somebody cannot adapt. That keeps things light, though it also makes the studio business seem kinder than some of the jokes suggest. The attention stays chiefly with people who can keep entertaining us, leaving the less fortunate outside the picture.
At 103 minutes, it gives its performers time without making us impatient for the story to resume. It passes the musical’s basic test of making another song welcome, even when the comedy would be enough to keep us watching. If musicals usually test your patience, we would try this one before giving up on them.
