An American in Paris

By and large, musicals aren't my thing. There are some that break through, but for the most part, I find the structure annoying. I don't care for the breaks in narrative to accommodate a song that does nothing for the story or the characters, or worse, a full song and dance that breaks immersion for me entirely. The ones that do overcome these tropes for me are movies that are either carried by the charm of its actors and story (My Fair Lady), incorporate the music into the narrative (what I've seen of The Music Man), or turn the whole thing on its head with irreverence (South Park). An American In Paris is in the first of those three camps: the charm of Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron, Nina Foch, and Oscar Levant does the heavy lifting for this movie. Kelly's boyish charm and self-deprecating humor, Levant's dry wit, Foch's authenticity, and Caron's sweetness, all help elevate what is a paper-thin plot to something more enjoyable than it should be. Because yes, this movie's story is a barely-held-together trifle that exists as little more than the faintest of laundry lines on which to string up a number of dance sequences and singing performances. And don't get me wrong, the performances are great (although I will say the way Kelly makes starting the day look like dancing at the beginning is far more inventive and impressive than any other sequence in the movie), but they are all, to the last, extraneous. Levant's daydream of giving a concert where he plays the piano, violin, xylophone, gong, conducts the orchestra, AND watches from the balcony stops the movie dead in its tracks and serves no narrative purpose whatsoever. It's funny to see his narcissism, sure, but it does nothing other than show he can play a few instruments. The closing dance number, which clocks in somewhere around 17 minutes, is a breathtaking piece of choreography, cinematography, and set design, but it takes the show-stopping dream sequence to the next level by consuming almost the entire third act. No narrative threads are explored or resolved for almost 20 minutes; just dancing. It's beautiful dancing, but it makes the movie hit a wall, and the pitiful follow-up to wrap up the story lasts all of 90 seconds and feels less like a satisfying conclusion and more like an obligation (to say nothing of the way it discards numerous plot threads, like the art exhibition or Foch's entire character). I've often been curious to see if a musical could survive an edit that removes the music. I know something like My Fair Lady would be crippled, as it actually has story elements tied into song. I know for a fact An American In Paris couldn't survive such an edit; it would halve the run time, and the wispy, quarter-baked story wouldn't be able to sustain interest. Again, the elements that go into these big song-and-dance numbers are amazing. Nobody but a contrarian would say otherwise. But even for a musical, Paris is flimsily assembled. An American In Paris' other big issue for me comes from the name. The movie does not take advantage of being in Paris. Other than some stock footage in the beginning of Parisian landmarks and people talking in French accents, this could be Cleveland for all that it matters. How could they set a love story in what is considered one of the most romantic cities on Earth, and not use it to their advantage? Why not incorporate the Eiffel Tower into the big number at the end? Or the Arc de Triomphe? Something, anything, that's distinctly French. Nope, it's all backlot sets and matte paintings, unless sidewalk cafes are suddenly exclusively Parisian. The movie talks about Paris like it's a character in and of itself, but it never actually shows us that. Again, I must stress that I did have a good time with this movie. It's breezy, charming, sweet (even if the implied ages and actual ages are wonky and make things slightly creepy), and the dance numbers are enjoyable to see. For not being a fan of musicals, and for this committing most of the sins I find intolerable in musicals, that this won me over at all is a minor miracle. But it definitely a movie made for a specific kind of audience to fall in love with, and I am not that kind of audience. I haven't seen the other nominees for Best Picture from this year, but I struggle to understand how it won, when even among musical enthusiasts (I live with one), this is rarely ever mentioned among the genre's greats. It feels more like it won for its technical achievements than its actual quality as a movie. An American In Paris succeeds in being entertaining, but in a superficial, junk-food kind of way, when it could and should be so much more given the talent involved.