In Memoriam: Stanley Donen 1924-2019

Donen's show biz beginnings includes a stint as a chorus dancer in Rodgers and Hart's 1940 Broadway musical Pal Joey, where he first met the man who played the show's title character, Gene Kelly. The two were united in another show, Best Foot Forward, in which Kelly not just starred but also did the choreography, and asked that Donen be his assistant (that's a little like God summoning Moses.)  Pal Joey and Best Foot Forward were both hits, and Kelly got the call from Hollywood. It's not clear whether Donen specifically got the call as well, but he eventually moved out west himself, did well at an audition, and signed a one-year dance contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, not a bad way to start out a film career. He also reunited with another Metro contract player, Kelly, who was doing well but not yet the star he was on Broadway. Which brings us to one of the more ironic developments in the history of popular culture. The two men who would come to be seen as architects of  the postwar movie musical, and who were on the payroll of the leading architectural firm of the postwar movie musical, the aforementioned MGM, were loaned out without nary a thought to Columbia Pictures, at the time a studio more interested in copying other firms architecture than coming up with anything original on their own. Except for now. On the movie to which he was assigned, Kelly was allowed to do something he wasn't allowed to do at MGM, choreograph (and basically direct) his own dance numbers, and he again used Donen as an assistant. The film, 1944's Cover Girl, was a bigger hit than anything else Kelly had done in motion pictures up to that date. He was finally a star, and Donen's co-choreography didn't look too shabby either. Back at Metro, Kelly and Donen co-choreographed Anchors Away, and Living in a Big Way. Both hits, and the two were given a chance to co-direct the postwar film version of a Broadway wartime hit On the Town. After that they co-directed Singing in the Rain (more about that in a moment), and, finally, in 1955, It's Always Fair Weather, a box-office flop. The two never worked together again. In fact, they're believed never to have spoken to each other again.

                                                                   

So what happened? Should one flop movie really end a friendship? Well, it likely wasn't just that. Some say the breakup was over a personal matter. Donen and Kelly took turns marrying dancer and actress Jeanne Coyne. However, the nuptials were over a decade apart, and Kelly's only after he Donen called it quits. What really ended the friendship more a professional clash of egos than any extended romantic triangle. Collaborating as they did led to confusion as to exactly who did what, who should take credit for what, who should be recognized for what. Obviously, if Kelly is dancing in front of the camera, it's his feet an no one else's. But before the camera is turned on? Who came up with what dance innovation? What camera trick? Partisans for Kelly argue that Donen rode in on the Broadway/Hollywood star's coat tails (or sport shirts, his favorite onscreen attire), while Donen's partisans argue that the assistant choreographer/director was a musical muse for Kelly, and without him the latter would have been merely a freckles-less Van Johnson. I like both Kelly and Donen and rather not take sides in this debate. I will say that I've seen Donen give several interviews over the years, and he always seemed to be his own man. Also, he directed 25 movies without any help from Kelly, including the critically acclaimed and/or commercially successful films Royal Wedding, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Funny Face, and the non-musicals Indiscreet, Charade, Arabesque, Two for the Road, and Bedazzled (the Dudley Moore-Peter Cook version.)

As far as the musicals go, film historians these days believe Donen's principle achievement, both by himself and in concert with Kelly, was the total integration of dance and film. What that basically means is that a movie musical can be something more than merely a Broadway show  that had a camera placed in front of it. Actually, a number of years before Donen, Busby Berkeley had created cinematic dance numbers that in no way would have been possible on the Broadway stage (even when the movie had "Broadway" in the title.) But he was more a choreographic Cecil B. DeMille, his films extravaganzas with a cast of fishnet stocking thousands. Donen took a much more intimate approach. A man dances with his reflection, a man dances on the ceiling, a man dances in a torrential downpour, a man dances with a cartoon mouse. Every so often when the mood struck him and the prospect didn't utterly bore him, Donen even had a man dance with another human being.

In a 1997 speech he made when accepting an honorary Oscar, Donen explained his technique:

    

Love that soft shoe! And did you catch Donen say the word "titanic"? That's because this was the same year the movie about the sinkable unsinkable ship smashed its way through the Academy Awards like an iceberg.

 Before I go any further, I should explain that I've decided to do these "In Memorial" posts a little differently than I have in the past. I used to do an all-encompassing review of a person's life and career with every photo and video I could find. The problem with that is, one, it can take an all-encompassing amount of time. Famous people don't always die when my schedule is free. A couple of years ago it took me a whole month and a half to do an obituary on Mary Tyler Moore (and I never did find the time to fit in Ordinary People.) Two, by revealing everything there is to reveal, I have nothing left for the future, when I might want to revisit that person. It's like I buried, or killed, him or her twice. I don't want that on my conscience!  So, what does that mean for Mr. Donen? Only that I'm not going to show you every single clip from every single film he was involved in. I'm just going to show you three. Which three? Well, what I've done is gone back and listened to Donen's Oscar speech (where he comes across as more lighthearted than in some interviews I've seen him do.) He mentions three kinds of people that a director needs in order to make a good movie, or at least a  good movie musical. Let's see who they are:

 We'll start with the screenwriter, in this case Peter Stone, with whom Donen worked with on this movie:

  
 Charade (1963) a comedy-thriller that for many brought to mind Hitchcock, a comparison that Donen found annoying, but was nonetheless meant as a compliment

 And for a musical, Donen said you need a good songwriter. Well, here's two, Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown, whose songbook was turned into this musical:

The aforementioned Arthur Freed didn't just provide the songs for Singin' in the Rain (1952) but actually willed it into being. A mildly talented lyricist whose success in that field really depended on what melodies his words were put to, he made the switch in midlife to phenomenally successful movie producer. The Freed Unit, as his roster of composers, directors, dancers, singers, actors and set designers were known, is today synonymous with the MGM musical in all its alternative reality glory, responsible for not just advancing the careers of Donen and Kelly but also Judy Garland, Vincente Minnelli, Cyd Charisse, Lena Horne, Ann Miller Esther Williams, Howard Keel, June Allyson, Jane Powell, Vera-Ellen, and Kathryn Grayson. So Freed can be excused for looking for some way to advance the legacy of his own former career as a songwriter. And what an advancement it turned out to be! Singin' in the Rain is today considered by many to be the greatest movie musical of all time, not just because of the Brown-Freed songs but even more for the inventive dance numbers and riotous satire of 1920s Hollywood that Donen, Kelly, and screenwriters Adolph Green and Betty Comden wrap around those songs.

(I should point out that since Freed's death in 1973 a disturbing casting couch story has emerged that, if true, would mean that however great his contribution to motion picture history, it was matched, even exceeded, by an exceptionally sordid contribution to Hollywood's long history of sexual harassment. But keep in mind that he wasn't around to defend himself.)   

Let's quickly get back to Donen's Oscar acceptance speech:

Finally, Donen needs an actor. Here's one, Fred Astaire, who, like Gene Kelly, also danced a little. In fact, he both acted and danced in this:

Royal Wedding (1951) has as its backdrop the real-life UK wedding of then-Princess Elizabeth to Prince Philip Mountbatten. In case you're wondering, the Sarah Churchill mentioned in the above trailer was indeed related to the famed World War II Prime Minister. His daughter, in fact.

Well, those people made the films, and Stanley Donen, by his own admission, just showed up and took the credit. But I suspect he more than deserved it.