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Kelly Brought Dancing Down to Earth

Leslie Caron is one of a handful of actresses who danced on film with both Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly. She said she felt as if she were floating while dancing with Astaire. Kelly, she said, danced closer to the ground.

Leslie Caron and Gene Kelly in An American in Paris, 1951.

That’s an incomplete but instructive guide to the two most celebrated male dancers in American film.

Picture Astaire and the image almost inevitably will be him dressed in a tuxedo, moving so gracefully it’s as if he’s put gravity on hold. He’s urbane, sophisticated. Probably speaks French. (He didn’t.)

Picture Kelly, though, and he might be in short sleeves and chinos, a business suit and Fedora or a T-shirt to emphasize his muscular physique. Kelly was no less graceful than Astaire, but there’s a physicality to his moves, an earthiness that contrasts with Astaire’s almost ethereal motion. If Astaire defied gravity, Kelly danced with it. (He also spoke fluent French.)

Gene Kelly: dancer, actor, singer, director and choreographer.

Aug. 23 is the 113th anniversary of Kelly’s birth, an excellent time to watch or rewatch the films which established his reputation: On the Town, An American in Paris and Singin’ in the Rain among them.

Kelly did much more than dance wonderfully. He co-choreographed all of the movies mentioned above, and co-directed On the Town and Singin’ with longtime partner Stanley Donen.

He also altered the way dance was filmed for the movies, insisting that the camera be in motion, following the action, acting as the eye of the viewer.

Kelly said his dancing was greatly influenced by his athleticism. He played hockey and football as a youngster, even signing a contract with a Brooklyn Dodgers farm team before hurting his arm and leaving baseball behind.

Kelly wanted to, in his words, create “a dance of the common man.” His casual dress wasn’t just an aversion to cummerbunds. He wanted to make dance accessible to a broader audience. His undisguised enthusiasm and energy had a far different feel than the top hat and white tails of Astaire.

Kelly was, in fact, a big fan of Astaire’s. Describing their differences, he said Astaire in a tux looked “to the manor born,” whereas Kelly in formal wear “look(ed) like a truck driver.”

Kelly’s final film role was in 1980’s Xanadu, the Citizen Kane of roller-disco musicals, which bombed at the box office and received uniformly negative reviews. The film, which also starred singer Olivia Newton John,  was largely responsible for the creation of the Golden Raspberry Awards, or Razzies, to honor the worst in film.

Kelly took it all in stride saying the movie’s concept was “marvelous, but it just didn’t come off.”

In show business, though, gravity sometimes works backwards. As in, what comes down might just go up again. Xanadu has garnered a worldwide audience for its splashy if nonsensical style. It was made into a Broadway musical and is celebrated by fans for its sincere incomprehensibility.

Somewhere, Gene Kelly is chuckling. And dancing.

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