Welcome to 42nd Street, where everyone wants to either be or do Miss Margret Sawyer.

Peggy Sawyer (Ruby Keeler), a fresh new face to the industry, is nervous for her very first audition and is immediately bullied after the mean girls smell the fear radiating off of her.  This leads to an awkward encounter between Peggy and the up-and-coming male lead Billy Lawler (Dick Powell) where she barges into his dressing room while he was in his underwear.  Billy, sporting the biggest heart eyes, escorts her to the stage to point out the director.  Lorraine and Ann decide to take pity on Peggy and let this skittish woman under their wings.  After it has been confirmed by the men in the room that the women have excellent legs, the trio officially gets hired (with a special second endorsement by Billy).  After signing the contracts, the rigorous rehearsal process commences.

Much like Ruby’s character Peggy, this was Ruby Keeler’s first film, although she was not a stranger to the stage.  She was married to Al Jolson at the time she made this film – they met in Los Angeles when she was asked to help promote The Jazz Singer.  She was 19 at the time and he was 42 (although this article in The Reading Eagle said he was 45, which is only a few years younger than Ruby’s father, so that’s neat).  To make this even more icky, when asked about his third wife Al said, “Ruby Keeler is an adorable kid.  If there is a sweeter child in the world I haven’t met her.”  Cool.  Cool cool cool.  They starred opposite each other in Go Into Your Dance, and as much as I would love to watch that nightmare unfold, I’m just going to assume it’s just as creepy as watching Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby kiss and leave it alone.  They were married for about 12 years before she finally divorced him, remarried, and left show business.  Can’t imagine why she might not have been able to get a gig after divorcing a titan of the industry… Ahem.  Out of the constant spotlight, she started a family, opened a dance studio, and after her husband’s death in 1969 made her return to the stage in a Busby Berkeley “supervised” production of No, No, Nanette.

While she was making pictures Ruby mostly starred opposite of Dick Powell, with several of them also choreographed by Busby Berkeley, which only proves if it works once, Hollywood will beat the concept into the ground until nobody wants to see musical movies anymore.  One of her other famous co-stars, James Cagney, later went on to star as Ruby’s first boss George M. Cohan in Yankee Doodle Dandy.  She worked on one of Cohan’s shows, The Rise of Rosie O’Reilly, when she was only 13. 42nd Street is less focused on Ruby’s dancing, but instead allows Ruby’s acting to shine – at least the part of her range where she’s encouraging men to take her on dates.

While Billy is battling actual dancer Terry for Peggy’s attention, we discover that is not the only blooming romance behind the scenes.  Dotty has a secret lover, her former Vaudeville partner Pat Denning.  They have to hide their relationship from Big Abner so as not to jeopardize her starring position in the show, which leads to all kinds of creative ways to sneak around and meet in dark corners. 

In one particular instance, Pat is loitering outside the theater hoping to catch Dorothy on her way out the door when instead Peggy is dumped in his lap after she fainted during run-throughs and chucked outside by the crew to get some air.  With Miss Brock preoccupied with making her sugar daddy happy, Pat and Peggy go on a date since we need more people fawning over the ingénue.  After a series of unfortunate events that starts with Pat getting decked in the face and ends with Peggy getting evicted from her apartment, the two of them wander back to Pat’s bougie nest funded by his secret girlfriend.  Although there are a few amorous close calls, they keep their distance from one another and the next morning Pat decides he’d rather start off his career somewhere else instead of forever being forced to live in Dorothy’s shadow.  Dot takes the break up in stride since she only had herself to blame for the position they were in, and Pat heads to Philadelphia to strike it out on his own.

The closer “Pretty Lady” approaches its opening date, the more Dottie’s cracks start to show.  The first blow was discovering the show would be opening in Philadelphia, the new home of her ex lover, instead of Atlantic City.  The second is seeing said ex get into a car with chorus girl Peggy (although Dot’s unaware he’s escorting Peggy to a date with Terry).  During the pre-opening night party, Dot gets drunk and tells off Abner making it very clear she doesn’t want to touch his penis anymore.  Abner gets pissed and huffs himself off to the Director’s hotel room in an effort to get Dot removed from the show lest he withdraw his 70k worth of capital.  Julian talks him down on the promise Dot will apologize for her behavior that night.

Little does he know Dot, in a moment of weakness, called Pat and asked him to come over. Peggy, after blowing off Terry for being too handsy, witnesses Pat walk into Dot’s room with the producers discovering the same thing. She tries to warn Pat shit’s about to go down, but Dot, drunk and in a fit of jealousy, tries to come at Peg and trips and breaks her ankle. Now truly out of the show, Julian is left with a production that opens the next morning without funding and a leading lady.

Anytime Annie, noticing a hole where a sugar baby should be, cozies up to Abner and convinces him to continue to fund the show but with her as the lead. When they present the plan to Julian, Annie comes clean, admitting she doesn’t have star power, but she knows who does… Peggy Sawyer. He agrees to rapid-fire train Peggy since he has no other option, musing, “I’ll either have a live leading lady or a dead chorus girl.” After 5 hours Mr. Marsh deems Peggy “fine” as the show must go on.

Continuing the “Everything Goes Right for Peggy” streak, right before the show Billy admits his feelings for Peggy, and Dot gives her blessing as she bows out of show business and runs away to get married to Pat. With the fate of the entire company behind her, Peggy takes the stage in the first kitschy number, “Shuffle Off to Buffalo”.

This was a signature of Mr. Berkeley, and even if you don’t recognize his name, you’ll recognize his work as the prime example of Pre-Code Hollywood musicals.  Even a scene from Footlight Parade was included in “The Great Movie Ride” at Disney’s Hollywood Studios (before it was replaced by some Mickey & Minnie thing because every ride needs to be part of Disney’s vertical integration initiative, but I digress).  From The Muppets to Campbells and Burger King, inspiration from Busby’s work can be seen in the strangest places even today.  By all accounts his personal life was a mess and while working the dancers struggled to live up to his vision because it was expensive and uncompromisable.  But he did get results, however odd they may be.

The several minutes of forced laughter isn’t the only thing cringey about this film

Y’know, my friend has something called the Thumper Rule: If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.  And I try to abide by it, but most of the time I’m like Olympia Dukakis in Steel Magnolias.

I tried, I tried really hard to understand why Swing Time is so high on the list.  If we’re only considering the Fred and Ginger dance numbers, sure, you could make a case, because they’re amazing and at the top of their game.  The choreography in this movie is fire, and the repeating motif of them walking side by side together picks up emotional weight as the story progresses.  But literally everything else about this movie is annoying to me.  The “Fred and Ginger Formula” is now starting to lose its luster.

Fred Astaire’s character, Lucky, is a gambler/dancer, and he’s supposed to be getting married to an affluent women named Margaret immediately after he tap dances off the stage.  His friends, who for sure have grandkids who think that Saturdays Are For The Boys, have decided to sabotage this endeavor by telling Lucky his pants are so last season.  Lucky kills time waiting on them to be tailored by rolling some dice, and several hours later, when he figures out he’s been tricked, he shows up to his own wedding several hours late after all the guests have left.  While his fiancé and her father are initially furious with Lucky, he tells them he was out earning a dumb amount of money, and offers to buy Margaret for $25k.  They agree to this arrangement because they are terrible people.

Lucky flees to New York with his unscrupulous friend Pop to gamble his way into a wife.  He encounters Penny at the cigarette machine when he trades her his lucky quarter for a few dimes and a nickel.  Thirty seconds later, when he gets the money to trade it back, she refuses because she thinks he’s attempting to pick her up.  While she’s trying to rebuff Lucky’s advances, Pop steals the quarter from her purse, and she alerts a policeman because she thinks Lucky took it.  The policeman, being super on-brand, calls her a crazy broad and threatens to arrest her for disturbing the peace because Lucky is wearing a nice suit.  She leaves, Pop reveals to Lucky he actually did steal the quarter from Penny, and Lucky follows her into her place to business to return the money… again.

If this sounds super convoluted, it is.  This is, by far, the dumbest meet-cute I’ve ever encountered, and I’ve lived through and been forced to watch nearly all the terrible early 2000s romantic comedies.

To Lucky’s absolute luck, Penny works at a dance studio, so Lucky pulls a Cady Heron and pretends he doesn’t know how to dance in order procure some lessons.  Penny is pleased as punch to see him, and doesn’t slug him on site because she wants to keep her job.  Once Lucky finally admits that he’s a premium dancer, Penny’s boss books the two of them a gig at the Silver Sandal, as long as Lucky can show up in a tuxedo.

Lucky, of course, only has a stolen quarter to his name, so Pop runs out to try and scam a drunk guy into betting his dapper clothes.  Penny walks in on her new friends playing strip poker with a guy 3 sheets to the wind and storms off, furious she’s going to miss her new gig because the guy who accosted her in the street turned out to not be on the up and up.

A week later is enough time for Lucky to bankroll a new wardrobe, a room at the inn, and a new audition at the Silver Sandal.  Penny’s refusal to forgive Lucky for blowing their first chance at stardom results in Lucky picketing outside her door.

When that doesn’t work to turn her favor, he decides to serenade her with the most famous song of this movie, “The Way You Look Tonight”.  I have heard Frank’s showy, bouncy version of this song about a million times, but I do enjoy Fred’s version as it sounds more tender and sincere.

This is enough to make Penny swoon, and they head to The Silver Sandal together.  Lucky discovers that the band leader, Ricky, is not only handsome, but has proposed to Penny several times.  Lucky has the nerve to act jealous even though, if you remember, he’s already engaged to Margaret back home.  Ricardo also views Lucky as a threat and refuses to play a song for Penny and Lucky’s audition so they cannot dance together.  Lucky decides to use his gambling super powers to win the band’s contract from a club owner and force Ricky’s orchestra to play.  Penny is somehow charmed by this because his gambling addiction has now directly benefitted her.

They ace the audition and Penny and Lucky book the gig.  Lucky negotiates down the terms of his payment so he doesn’t make over $25k and have to return to his hometown to purchase/marry his fiancé.  Conversely, he is trying his best not to be left alone with Penny as he’s now fallen in love with her.  Penny, unfortunately, feels the same way about him, and decides to make a bunch of unreciprocated moves that just give her blue balls.  When Lucky finally decides that cheating on his fiancé sounds like a good idea, Pop intervenes and tells Penny that Lucky’s engaged and she rightfully turns cold toward him.  This only lasts about 3 minutes, and soon she’s making awkward advances before making out with him in their dressing room.

Right as my exasperation in this back and forth romance hit its peak, Fred distracted me by walking over to his dressing table and smearing black paint on his face.  Oh.  Oh no. 

Oh nooooooooooo.  I thought after The Jazz Singer I was in the clear for shit like this on the list, but nope, turns out one of the most famous dancers in the world decided that blackface was a great idea.

This is um…  This is straight up offensive.  No amount of shuffling around is going to make me defend a number that starts with comparing the skin color of black people to the bottom of shoes.  I found a great article by Katrina Richardson that elaborates why this number, even in 1936, was in very, very poor taste.

Bill “Bojangles” Robinson is the man Fred is “paying tribute to” in this number.  My grandmother loved Shirley Temple and bought me The Little Colonel when I was a kid, which I watched once and unceremoniously stored in our VHS cabinet because I had no interest in a precocious seven-year-old that pretends not to know how to read, or a movie about The South™.  But I remember this scene because I was simultaneously fascinated by his dancing and afraid he was going to fall down the stairs.  Honestly, spending several hours on youtube watching Mr. Robinson dance was the only redeeming part of being forced to watch Swing Time.

Anyway… Directly after the number, Lucky gambles away the orchestra because Pop revealed that Lucky cheated it off of the club owner the first time.  Immediately after that, Margret and Penny finally meet each other, and Penny is so devastated that Lucky is still going to marry her that she runs off and accepts Ricky’s latest proposal.  Lucky is similarly disappointed they’re heading in different directions and tells Penny that he’s going to punish himself for marrying someone he doesn’t love by never dancing again.

Fred and Ginger’s dance numbers always tell a story, and this movie features several perfect examples of how their movements illustrate their current feelings toward each other.  In the beginning, they start their journey by taking a few steps together, and we similarly revel in the joy on Penny’s face realizing Lucky can meet her move for move.  When they are auditioning for the club, they come out confident and fierce, knocking everyone’s socks off because they realize how special their relationship is and want to flaunt it in front of everyone (especially Ricky).  In “Never Gonna Dance”, their steps are nostalgic, echoing the previous numbers before, and eventually send them in two separate directions and up two separate staircases.  They’re reunited quickly and furiously at the top, giving into their passion for one another.  But by the end of this number, Penny is sprinting away from Lucky, as its the only way they can part.  It’s so beautiful it makes me forgive the plot I had to trudge through to get here.  Also, Astaire insisted on over 40 takes of this number and Ginger’s feet were bleeding through her shoes by the end of it, which only highlights Fred’s perfectionism and Ginger’s perseverance.

Alas, Lucky and Penny didn’t need to break up in the first place, because Margret has decided to break off their engagement because she wants to marry someone else.  Lucky then decides to tell Margret that he’s in love with Penny, and she starts laughing because it’s all very funny and conveniently timed.  Lucky rushes over to break up Penny and Ricky’s wedding and Lucky and Penny live happily ever after even though she doesn’t like that he gambles and he seems incapable of not doing so.  The end.

Swing Time is a whole lot of fluff and no substance, which is completely fine, it just annoys me when the plot hinges on a series of secrets or misunderstandings.  The director of this movie, George Stevens, had filmed several movies with Fred and Ginger, together and separately, until he enlisted in the US Army during World War II in order to document it.  He was present during D-Day, and also filmed the conditions of the concentration camps.  The footage he captured was used as evidence during the Nuremberg Trials.  Needless to say, this guy saw some shit, and it changed the kind of content he produced afterward.

In the 1970s, he was head of the jury at the Berlin International Film Festival, which issued no awards because the jury eventually resigned.  A film about the Incident on Hill 192, o.k., was cut-off mid-screening and removed from the festival because a majority of the jury believed “All film festivals should contribute to better understanding between nations”.  Stevens himself called the movie “anti-American”, and was the driving force behind its disqualification.  The jury actually had no right to turn the film off, or question its qualification in the first place, which caused several directors of competing films to withdraw their movies from the competition in protest.  Many looked upon the film’s exclusion as censorship and called for a dissolution of the entire institution of Berlinale.  This didn’t happen – they restructured and have been conducting the event ever since.  Although a few years ago they did have to rename one of their awards when it was revealed its namesake Alfred Bauer’s involvement in creating Nazi propaganda “was more significant than had previously been known”…  Yikes.

But I found it both curious and unsurprising that Stevens had such a visceral reaction to o.k., as United States patriotism was the key motivating factor during the second world war.  The sacrifices made by the soldiers and their families was under the premise it was for The Greater Good.  The heroes in the US of A would be getting revenge on those no-good Fascists and Imperialists because here in America, we believe in Freedom™.

Not to suggest the US shouldn’t have been involved in the war, but our own (sometimes racist) propaganda shaped the views of the entire generation.  I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that a lot of WW2 veterans struggled with those who protested the war in Vietnam, and had a hard time beings faced with the fact that United States soldiers could become power-hungry monsters that commit atrocious war crimes.

But I majorly digress…  Swing Time is, conversely to the previous diatribe, Pre-WW2 glamourous escapism, where the worst a woman could encounter was a philandering gambler who didn’t cuff his pants.

Welcome to Fred and Ginger week, where we dive into two of their most beloved movies, Top Hat and Swing Time.  Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made 10 movies together, setting the standard for dynamic dancing pairs.

They were thrown together in Flying Down to Rio, which was a fine arrangement for Astaire for one film.  He had previously been part of a double act with his older sister, and when she married and retired from the industry he was hesitant to be paired up again.  After the success of Rio, however, little could be done to deny Fred and Ginger’s on-screen chemistry.

Katharine Hepburn summed it up perfectly when she said, “He gives her class and she gives him sex appeal.”  Fred was dynamic and charismatic, and I’m sure it was easy for him to act as though he was enamored with Ginger.  Ginger made it look like it was the most fun in the world dancing with Fred, and every time they performed together, it was pure fantasy and Hollywood glamour.

Top Hat is yet another Irving Berlin lead musical, except instead of focusing on holidays it’s about a girl who is trying everything within her power to not get involved with someone else’s open marriage.

Jerry, played by Freddie himself, is a successful dancer that is actively being recruited by his friend Horace to star in his upcoming stage show.  Jerry seems generally intrigued by the plan, until he starts to realize his friend Horace has some unignorable personality quirks.  First he’s inserted into the middle of a tiff between Horace and his valet Bates over their differing opinion on tie styles.  Next, he’s told that Horace’s wife, Madge, is interested in hooking Jerry up with her painfully single friend Dale.  In fact, after the show opening, the plan is for the two of them to travel to Italy and rendezvous with Madge and meet this attractive young lady.  Jerry is wholly uninterested in the prospect of snagging a permanent dame as living unencumbered has so far suited him just fine.  Even though it’s the middle of the night, he demonstrates to Horace how truly footloose and fancy free he really is.

This number is so flippin’ glorious – Fred’s enthusiasm is infectious and hilarious.

Jerry changes his tune really quickly when the attractive young woman directly below Horace’s hotel room storms upstairs to let him know she’s not super pleased he’s literally tap dancing on her ceiling while she’s trying to sleep.  Fred lays down the moves, but she’s tired and cranky and easily rebuffs his advances before heading back downstairs.  In an attempt to get on her good side, he plays the sandman and soft shoe ASMRs them both to sleep.

The next few days Jerry fills his crush’s room with flowers and charges it to his benefactor, Horace.  We learn that this young woman is Dale, Madge’s friend she’s trying to set Jerry up with, but neither Jerry or Dale realize this.  Unfortunately, Dale is already kept woman.  Mr. Beddini, a fashion designer, has been paying for her room and board in exchange for her “modelling some clothes” for him.  Oblivious to this, Jerry escalates the situation when he stalks Dale to the park.  Somehow Dale finds this both annoying and charming, because it’s Fred Astaire and he can woo any woman by crooning an Irving Berlin tune.  The have a little tête-à-tête in the rain, and Dale falls for this man hard.

This is so much fun I can’t handle ittttttt.

After returning from her play date, Dale is confronted by Mr. Beddini, as he’s upset she no longer wants to travel to Italy to be set up with some rando.  Mr. Beddini was relying on the trip to Italy for Dale to “show off his new clothes”, and is immediately jealous that Dale would rather spend time in New York with her new friend Jerry.  Madge informs Dale that her husband Horace would be looking her up regardless if Dale decides to join them or not, and that Mr. Beddini could accompany her to Italy if that helps change her mind about the trip.

Through a series of misunderstandings communicated by the hotel desk clerk, Dale comes to believe that Jerry is her friend Madge’s husband Horace.  She confronts Jerry by slapping the shit out of him, offended she ever batted her thin-eyebrowed eyes at his dumb face.  To Mr. Beddini’s relief, Dale decides to travel to Italy in an effort to purge Jerry from her brain, and presumably conceal the fact her friend’s “husband” was hitting on her.

Surprisingly, the hotel decides to investigate “the slapping incident”, and when they approach Horace, who Dale thinks was hitting on her, he decides not to rat out Jerry because he doesn’t want to jeopardize the stage show he’s invested a lot of money in.  He instead throws his valet Bates under the bus and tells the staff Bates was the one who was slapped by Dale.  After the staff leave, Horace asks Bates to trail Dale to make sure she’s not trying to take advantage of Jerry for his wealth or connections, and the two of them decide not to travel to Italy.

During the opening night of the show, Jerry and Horace discover that Dale is the woman Madge was intending to introduce to Jerry.  Jerry also changes his mind about the Italy trip and pressures Horace to charter a plane so he can intercept Dale.  After Jerry murders his fellow backup dancers, the entire cast heads to the best Italy the “It’s A Small World” construction crew could erect on a sound stage.  

Honestly, this plot gets unbelievably complicated and convoluted, as this mistaken identity bit gets dragged out for like another 20 minutes.  Dale keeps trying to tell Madge her husband is a weirdo, and Madge continually blows her off.  When Madge finally gets Dale and Jerry to eat dinner with her, Dale is further put-off by the fact her friend keeps insinuating she should sleep with who Dale thinks is Madge’s husband.  But try as hard as Dale may, she finds Jerry/Horace harder to resist the more they dance together.

Fun fact: This is the dress that Fred Astaire was making fun of in Easter Parade because it shed like nobody’s business and was a pain in the ass to dance with.  Ginger fought Fred and the studio to wear this gorgeous gown, and she won in the end, but not without earning the nickname “Feathers”.

While dancing with her friend’s husband is acceptable, Dale is immediately furious when Jerry/”Horace” proposes to her.  In order to remove herself from this weird fucking dynamic between her friend and her “husband”, she decides to accept Mr. Beddini’s impromptu marriage proposal and they immediately get hitched.  When Madge is informed of this, she immediately blames her husband Horace for Dale’s poor life decision because it was him that was skeezing her out.  Finally, in the last 20 minutes of the movie, the group realizes that Dale thinks Jerry is Horace, and Jerry runs to correct this assumption and rescue her from the Bridal Suite.  He tap dances his way back into her life, and a slow speed chase ensues when the two of them flee in a gondola.  Dale and Jerry get away thanks to Horace’s valet Bates’ intervention, as he’s been tasked with following Dale and is fully apprised of the situation.  While the rest of the party is dead in the water, Jerry and Dale sing, dance and be merry.

Jerry and Dale decide to marry each other, but they need to get Dale divorced from Mr. Beddini first.  Turns out, the person who posed as a priest was MVP of this story, Bates, so the marriage was never legal.  Dale and Jerry immediately tie the knot and everyone lives happily ever after.  The end.

The acting in this movie is great, and several of the line deliveries from the supporting cast had me on the floor.  The music is catchy and memorable, and the dance numbers, of course, are out of this world.   If the plot wasn’t so fucking tedious, Top Hat would have been one of my favorites.