By Elazar Abrahams
Last night, I rewatched Singin’ in the Rain, a film that just gets richer and richer with each viewing. While the titular number is so iconic, and I’ve been humming “All I Do Is Dream of You” all morning, the song and dance routine of “Make ‘Em Laugh” is perhaps the scene that leaves me most in awe. A few years ago, I wrote a paper on the number for a film class, which follows below. The assignment was a shot analysis, a close read of a few seconds from any film on the syllabus up till that point. Naturally, I chose Rain and a bustling shot from “Make ‘Em Laugh.” After all, it’s the only song from the legendary picture to have been covered by both Glee and The Minions.
The 1952 musical comedy Singin’ in the Rain follows a group of Hollywood performers through the cultural transition from silent films to “talkies.” With its flashy and colorful costumes, complex choreography, and precise cinematography, the film – directed by Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly (who also stars as actor Don Lockwood) – is an absolute spectacle in every sense of the word.
Kelly and Donen often use long, tracking shots in their musical numbers to highlight the choreography and staging. The tactic makes those scenes, and the film as a whole, feel almost like theater. Nowhere is this more apparent than the “Make ‘Em Laugh” segment where musician Cosmo Brown (Donald O’Connor) performs nearly four minutes of slapstick comedy in song and dance. After Don is unable to track down Kathy Selden (Debbie Reynolds), a woman who caught his eye, Cosmo attempts to cheer him up with dozens of jumps, tumbles, backflips in the midst of a busy movie set.
My favorite shot here lingers for about 20 seconds (28:24 – 28:44 in the film’s runtime). Cosmo hops up off the ground from his stumble, immediately greeted by a couch being carried straight at him. He ducks under the sofa only to find a horizontal piece of wood, slung over someone’s shoulder, dangerously close to his face. He avoids the plank at first, but is then unexpectedly hit in the back of the head when the man carrying it turns his back. Cosmo falls to his knees, launches into a tap dance, prancing backwards, only to slam into another plank of wood being carried across the set, all while still singing. Seeing a door to his right, Cosmo opens the apparent exit and walks headfirst into a brick wall. There is then a quick cut to the next shot, a close-up of Cosmo’s now crooked nose and mouth.
The shot is an absolute masterclass in physical comedy, with so many gags packed in. Sandwiched between other lengthy shots, it helps highlight O’Connor and his character’s talent. Although it does not necessarily move the film’s story along, the camera advances slowly to the right throughout, following Cosmo traversing the set’s obstacles and giving the shot a sense of forwardness. In How Movies Work, author Bruce Kawin writes that a good moving camera shot can give the illusion that the camera “almost seems to dance itself,” and that is certainly true here.
Singin’ in the Rain is a movie about making movies, so where better to house one of the film’s best sequences than a movie set? What makes this shot special is the sheer amount of detail and movement. The workers pacing in front of the tapestry, the cleaner sweeping up debris in the background, the painter on a ladder brushing the backdrop, the assistants checking the big lights that illuminate the room – viewers are shown just how much effort goes into filmmaking. While Cosmo is always centered in the frame, just as much focus is given to the hustle and bustle of the set.
Of course, the sound design is what elevates this shot. The non-diegetic score of joyful trumpets combined with Cosmo’s whimsical lyrics (such as “Take a fall / Butt a wall / Split a seam” and “You start off by pretending you’re a dancer with grace / You wiggle ’till they’re giggling all over the place”) provide a sense of levity, which is what the character is trying to convey to Don. The prominent “bonk” and “thwap” when Cosmo’s head hits the wood, the “rat-a-tat” of his shoes on the floor, and the “clang” when he walks straight into bricks are simple yet effective. Each of these sound effects add to the humor of the situation.
The screwball comedy exemplified in this shot was perfected by the likes of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton in silent films. In line with its themes of technological advancement and old vs. new, Singin’ in the Rain takes those classic tropes and brings them into the “modern” era of movie musicals, and does so spectacularly. Rain’s protagonists are hesitant of films with sound because it threatens to upend their way of life, but shots like this demonstrate that the beauty of silent films can in fact be enhanced by what the new technology has to offer.
TV and City 