Mind-Blowing Musicals and Spontaneous Combustion

I am not a fan of musicals.

This is the niggling thought I grappled with while preparing my genre notes for discussion groups. I could almost hear the students roll their eyes and noisily make an exit (or not show up at all) during the two weeks worth of lectures on the Musical genre. I needed a plan to keep as many bums in seats and eyes awake as possible.

How could I put an interesting spin on the Musical? What little song-and-dance number could I concoct?

I sighed in relief when I saw that Singin’ in the Rain (1952) was first on the screening bill. Surely the wily antics of Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor would loosen everyone up. If nothing else, Jean Hagen’s annoying baby-doll character voice would get a few laughs. Plus, who isn’t drawn to those self-conscious cracks about the transition from silent cinema to sound cinema? And that ‘backstage musical’ appeal?

Okay, I’m kidding myself if I think that everyone will be won over by the Musical genre. But if Gene Kelly can win me over, he’s sure to do the same for others. As far as Classical Hollywood musicals go, this was definitely the least painful way to start the unit.

I beat some murmured responses from students about Richard Dyer’s notion of utopian sensibility, or as I like to call it, the experience of the “happy-dancing-smiley-people”, thinking all the while that it was this exact sentiment that made me roll my eyes whenever I was confronted by spontaneous performances in musicals. I am not looking for realism, but I have a hard time connecting with characters that can burst into perfectly choreographed song-and-dance routines just to communicate how good their diction is, or to express their undying love for one another.

I dragged some enthusiasm out of the students by explaining conventions, and then comparing contemporary uses of classical musical performances, where new contexts affect a different utopian meaning: the title song of Singin’ in the Rain (remember Alex’s brutal rendition as he gets his jollies a-beatin’ and a-rapin’ in A Clockwork Orange?), and the familiar ditty, “Good Mornin’”, which is now a commercial staple for the wholesomeness of Tropicana Orange Juice, and the less wholesome, joyful temporary bliss of Viagra. Even TV’s Family Guy has adopted the song, with the main male cast members reenacting the number in the comfort of their living room.

By the end of the class, I still found myself asking the group: “Are you getting anything out of this presentation?”

A few dumbfounded looks and a nod of a head or two later, I turned the question on myself, and decided I needed to try something else for the next class.

A week went by, and fewer students filed into the room. Not a good sign. We were considering the antithesis of the musical with Godard’s Une Femme est Une Femme (1961). A quick poll of the class revealed a range of responses to the film:

“I hated it.”

“I loved it!”

“Was that movie in French?”

Clearly, some of these students needed to consult their textbooks (probably for the first time), but at least they showed up to class. After comparing Dyer’s utopia to this week’s discussion of Bordwell’s la condition humaine, I managed to drill into their heads the dystopian sensibility that is also apparent in musicals.

  

Then came the day’s cinematic song and dance routine – these kids would be dazzled with intertextuality.

Pas de bourrée! Look how miserable these singing loonies are in Les Parapluies de Cherbourg (1964), a film that musically laments the anguish of forlorn love for a solid ninety-one minutes.

Twirl! Watch as the Buffy universe breaks into ridiculously cheesy numbers about getting the mustard stains out of a shirt, or of the marital woes of a soon-to-be-newlywed human-and-demon couple. In the sixth season, seventh episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, “Once More, With Feeling” promises to be the last thing you’ll ever do, as those who spontaneously sing and dance are also cursed to spontaneously sing and die, by suddenly bursting into flames.

  

Leap! See how street gang violence in West Side Story (1961) is really just a bunch of flips, kicks, hops, and snaps? What if we throw a repo-man into the mix, one who’ll hunt you down if you’ve failed to pay up for your life-saving organs? On screen, we see a nice, gory slit across the neck while a choir of disembodied voices resonates in the background in Repo! The Genetic Opera (2009). Just try to resist this Rock Opera about the horrors of a dystopian future of vanity, where ‘shallow’ is also the depth from whence loaned organs are ripped out.

As the lights come up, I spy a few mortified faces still recovering from the last clip. Perfect. Next week we start discussions on the Horror film. I pack up for the day and am pleased to find that my own perspective on the genre has changed. Maybe musicals aren’t so cheesy and ridiculous after all.

Consider your minds blown, kiddies. I know mine is.

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