It's hard to evaluate a documentary like this because it's a compilation of musical numbers from the legendary MGM factory over a period of more than thirty years, and although the numbers all show a good deal of effort, some are invariably an improvement over others. There are a couple of dozen episodes, introduced by a dozen or so former MGM musical stars.
The numbers are all commercial in their nature, designed to appeal to the family-oriented and innocent audiences of the time. There's nothing dark about any of them. Even complex tragedies like "Showboat," the Rogers and Hart Broadway hit of around 1927, is sanitized in its verse and characterizations. Louis B. Mayer had no interest in the working-class dramas of the Warner Brothers. All its output was a warm and cozy as money and talent could make it. If Mayer couldn't get Shirley Temple, after whose drawing power he lusted, he created his own Shirley Temples in Judy Garland and Margaret O'Brien.
The numbers (or at least snippets of them) range from exhilarating (the barn-raising dance sequence in "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" or Gene Kelly's "Singin' in the Rain") through comically bad (you must hear Robert Montgomery sing in an operetta, or Jimmy Stewart wrestling his way through Cole Porter's undemanding "Easy to Love", or Wallace Beery grumbling uncomfortably for "It's a Most Unusual Day"), to the earnest vulgarity of Joan Crawford's hootchie-cootchie or Esther Williams color-drenched high dives into a sea of fountains, flares, and fireworks.
The guides are Old Faithfuls, familiar to all movie buffs -- perhaps with Peter Lawford near the bottom and Old Blue Eyes near the top. Fred Astaire provides a graceful description of Gene Kelly's gymnastic dancing style, and Kelly does something similar for Astaire's more delicate and more innovative ballroom style.
In a way, that's where the problem lies. Not a BIG problem -- not enough to detract from our enjoyment of these mostly splendid productions -- but a subtle irritation, even if an expectable one. The narration is written by Jack Haley, Jr., son of the Tin Man and ex-husband of Liza Minelli. It seems at times to be aimed at idiots. In "Royal Wedding," to an unexceptional tune, Fred Astaire dances on the floor, then climbs one of the walls and dances sideways, then upside down on the ceiling, then on the opposite wall, and finally back to the floor where this nonsense started. Gene Kelly's narration tells us that "movie buffs have been arguing ever since about how it was done." WHAT movie buffs? Those under the age of ten? There's a condescending quality to the written script that qualifies our appreciation of the overall work. "We've saved the best for last," says Sinatra and we see much of the splashy, complex, and extremely expensive "American in Paris" ballet. I don't think it's "the best," do you? "One of the best," probably. "Good," certainly. But it would have been nice if Haley has let us make up our own minds and not treat us as savages only lately come down from the Nilgiri Hills.
On the other hand, Haley has evoked a poignant sense of nostalgia for the past. The sets on the MGM lot that were once vibrant with faux life, busy with activity, are now shabby skeletons with some shingling still attached -- artistically arranged, to be sure.
I wonder if you need to be old enough to remember the musicals in their original form to appreciate what a loss to vernacular culture that this represents. Man, MGM had billions left in that lot. All they had to do was turn it into a sort of theme park with paid tours. Look at Universal Studios -- flourishing although few movies are made there. As it was, MGM sold out for the short change. They auctioned off all the props and sold the lot to developers who plowed everything under and did was developers do: put up steely buildings surrounded by vast asphalt parking lots.
"They don't make them like this anymore," one of the guides remarks, and he is so right. They couldn't if they wanted to. Not only are the sets gone but just this year we've seen the demise of people like Ann Miller, Cyd Charisse, and Van Johnson.
That's enough bad mouthing, I suppose. This is certainly worth watching. Just for one example, watch the grace and near perfection of Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse in "Dancing in the Dark" from "The Bandwagon." Watch some of the others. Then go rent the originals.
The numbers are all commercial in their nature, designed to appeal to the family-oriented and innocent audiences of the time. There's nothing dark about any of them. Even complex tragedies like "Showboat," the Rogers and Hart Broadway hit of around 1927, is sanitized in its verse and characterizations. Louis B. Mayer had no interest in the working-class dramas of the Warner Brothers. All its output was a warm and cozy as money and talent could make it. If Mayer couldn't get Shirley Temple, after whose drawing power he lusted, he created his own Shirley Temples in Judy Garland and Margaret O'Brien.
The numbers (or at least snippets of them) range from exhilarating (the barn-raising dance sequence in "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" or Gene Kelly's "Singin' in the Rain") through comically bad (you must hear Robert Montgomery sing in an operetta, or Jimmy Stewart wrestling his way through Cole Porter's undemanding "Easy to Love", or Wallace Beery grumbling uncomfortably for "It's a Most Unusual Day"), to the earnest vulgarity of Joan Crawford's hootchie-cootchie or Esther Williams color-drenched high dives into a sea of fountains, flares, and fireworks.
The guides are Old Faithfuls, familiar to all movie buffs -- perhaps with Peter Lawford near the bottom and Old Blue Eyes near the top. Fred Astaire provides a graceful description of Gene Kelly's gymnastic dancing style, and Kelly does something similar for Astaire's more delicate and more innovative ballroom style.
In a way, that's where the problem lies. Not a BIG problem -- not enough to detract from our enjoyment of these mostly splendid productions -- but a subtle irritation, even if an expectable one. The narration is written by Jack Haley, Jr., son of the Tin Man and ex-husband of Liza Minelli. It seems at times to be aimed at idiots. In "Royal Wedding," to an unexceptional tune, Fred Astaire dances on the floor, then climbs one of the walls and dances sideways, then upside down on the ceiling, then on the opposite wall, and finally back to the floor where this nonsense started. Gene Kelly's narration tells us that "movie buffs have been arguing ever since about how it was done." WHAT movie buffs? Those under the age of ten? There's a condescending quality to the written script that qualifies our appreciation of the overall work. "We've saved the best for last," says Sinatra and we see much of the splashy, complex, and extremely expensive "American in Paris" ballet. I don't think it's "the best," do you? "One of the best," probably. "Good," certainly. But it would have been nice if Haley has let us make up our own minds and not treat us as savages only lately come down from the Nilgiri Hills.
On the other hand, Haley has evoked a poignant sense of nostalgia for the past. The sets on the MGM lot that were once vibrant with faux life, busy with activity, are now shabby skeletons with some shingling still attached -- artistically arranged, to be sure.
I wonder if you need to be old enough to remember the musicals in their original form to appreciate what a loss to vernacular culture that this represents. Man, MGM had billions left in that lot. All they had to do was turn it into a sort of theme park with paid tours. Look at Universal Studios -- flourishing although few movies are made there. As it was, MGM sold out for the short change. They auctioned off all the props and sold the lot to developers who plowed everything under and did was developers do: put up steely buildings surrounded by vast asphalt parking lots.
"They don't make them like this anymore," one of the guides remarks, and he is so right. They couldn't if they wanted to. Not only are the sets gone but just this year we've seen the demise of people like Ann Miller, Cyd Charisse, and Van Johnson.
That's enough bad mouthing, I suppose. This is certainly worth watching. Just for one example, watch the grace and near perfection of Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse in "Dancing in the Dark" from "The Bandwagon." Watch some of the others. Then go rent the originals.