home *** CD-ROM | disk | FTP | other *** search
- July 6, 1987The Great American FlyerFred Astaire: 1899-1987
-
-
- Elegance is usually an imposition, a set of mannerisms employed
- by the swells to cover their emptiness and maintain their
- distance from us plebeians. Fred Astaire's achievement--no, his
- glory--was that he made elegance infectious. He democratized
- and Americanized the word most overused to describe himself.
-
- And he did the same thing for dancing. Before the advent of
- sound movies, dance for most Americans meant tap dancers "laying
- down iron" in vaudeville. Before Astaire, screen dance was a
- thundering herd of chorines tapping out a Busby Berkeley
- abstraction. "I didn't think I had too much of a chance,"
- Astaire would later say--with good reason. To be sure, he and
- his sister Adele had worked their way from Omaha through
- small-time vaudeville to stage stardom in New York and London.
- But Adele had retired, and at 34, Fred was not obvious star
- material: a skinny fellow with a reedy voice and an unassuming
- air.
-
- In fact, his manner and his voice were basic to his success,
- creating an illusion of ordinariness. This was not unplanned.
- Nothing in the use of his only instrument--himself--ever was.
- A cool calculator of effects, a steely perfectionist in
- execution, he always affected astonishment over adulation. As
- Mikhail Baryshnikov said, Astaire often seemed to stand wryly
- outside himself, observing his work as wonderingly as anyone
- else.
-
- Astaire also observed that it was time for a dancer to exploit
- the movies' capacity for intimacy rather than spectacle. In the
- nine films he made with Ginger Rogers between 1933 and 1939,
- most of their great numbers were not performed on a stage. Shot
- full figure in long takes, the pair tapped across park
- bandstands in the rain (Isn't This a Lovely Day?) and on roller
- skates (Let's Call the Whole Thing Off), and used an entire
- country club in The Yam number, which for compressed intricacy
- may have been their most heart-stopping routine. But more than
- skill and wit informed their partnership. Rogers, as Critic
- Arlene Croce said, offered Astaire a "genial resistance,"
- bringing out "toughness" and "masculine gallantry" and, one must
- add, his narrative skill. Their best pas de deux tell full
- romantic tales: challenge, hesitation, soaring consummation,
- wistful afterglow.
-
- The nostalgia surrounding Rogers-Astaire tends to bleach out
- other partners. But if Rita Hayworth, Cyd Charisse and Lucille
- Bremer melted more quickly into his arms, they did so with
- unsurpassed lyricism. Indeed, it is with Charisse during the
- Dancing in the Dark sequence of The Band Wagon that he attained
- romantic apotheosis. That film brought him to another kind of
- culmination. He always liked to shed his top hat, white tie and
- tails and make magic with homely props--a golf club, a hat rack,
- a handful of firecrackers. In Band Wagon, glum and lonesome,
- he entered an amusement arcade and emerged 6 1/2 minutes later,
- having completed the greatest solo dance in movie history, Shine
- on Your Shoes.
-
- Most of dance's immortals write their greatness in air. Fred
- Astaire's is forever captured on film. But when he died last
- week at 88, that consolation was dimmed by the knowledge that
- the culture that produced him--especially the songwriters whose
- work gave wings to his feet--was gone too. He, alas, lived to
- see the future--and it was a subliterate, flashcut music video.
-
- --By Richard Schickel
-
-