Synopsis

Ex-GI Jerry Mulligan (Gene Kelly) is a struggling American artist who etches out a living on the streets of his beloved spiritual home, Paris. His luck changes for the better when he meets Milo Roberts (Nina Foch), a wealthy patron of the arts who takes a personal interest in him. But Jerry has no time for romance until he meets Lise Bouvier, the fiancee of his flatmate Henri (Georges Guetary). Their mutual attraction eventually blossoms into a passionate romance that is played out against the backdrop of the world's most seductive city.

Producer: Arthur Freed
Director: Vincente Minnelli
Screenplay: Alan Jay Lerner
Cinematography: Alfred Gilks, John Alton (ballet photography)
Costume Design: Orry-Kelly, Walter Plunkett, Irene Sharaff
Film Editing: Adrienne Fazan
Original Music: George Gershwin (songs)
Principal Cast: Gene Kelly (Jerry Mulligan), Leslie Caron (Lise Bouvier), Oscar Levant (Adam Cook), Georges Guetary (Henri Baurel), Nina Foch (Milo Roberts)
C-114m. Closed captioning. Descriptive video.

Why AN AMERICAN IN PARIS is Essential

The prelude and aftermath of the mammoth An American in Paris (1951) shoot were fraught with controversy, fear, uncertainty - curious emotions for one of cinema's most charming and delightful all-time classics. Many critics feel the film represents the peak of the MGM musical and why not, when you consider the winning combination of director Vincente Minnelli, star/choreographer Gene Kelly, the music of George and Ira Gershwin, the witty Alan Jay Lerner script, the brilliant black and white in color camera of John Alton (called in specifically to lens the final ballet sequence) and, perhaps most importantly, the man who pulled it all together: producer Arthur Freed? Freed had long ago purchased the title from Ira Gershwin, realizing that An American in Paris was a great moniker for a musical. Vincente Minnelli, who hadn't worked in the genre since The Pirate (1948), felt the studio was punishing him for the movie's less than outstanding grosses. But nothing could be further from the truth; Freed was simply waiting for the proper project to utilize the master director's extraordinary talent. With the selection of Gene Kelly over Fred Astaire, the On the Town (1949) star immediately set about designing the lavish numbers working in close and harmonious collaboration with Minnelli. One of Kelly's first requests was the casting of teenager Leslie Caron as the female lead, whom he had seen dance two years earlier.

Originally the part of Caron's benefactor had been slotted for Maurice Chevalier, who was unavailable. This sparked the interesting possibility of Yves Montand - a decision squelched when Louis B. Mayer made a pro-HUAC speech on the embryonic An American in Paris sets during pre-production. Montand's politics threw him out before he was in. More astonishing was the East coast office's demand to axe the final ballet - the culmination of the picture's entire sequence of events. Freed, who knew that the word "ballet" was poison to a Hollywood production, and, that at a cost of a half a million dollars, would be one of the most expensive numbers ever filmed, wisely kept his cool and went directly to the source - Mayer himself. L.B., on his way out (An American in Paris would be his last production), and in constant in-house battles with newly appointed liberal-minded executive Dore Schary (fresh from his profitable track record at RKO), had faith in Freed's abilities and okayed the budget. Concurrently, the New York boys worked on Schary to intercede, but Mayer's successor threw them for a loop and also pronounced the excising of the ballet as preposterous, vowing to assure its inclusion even at the exorbitant cost. In the movie, Kelly plays a struggling painter living in France. The ballet represents his fantasies as depicted by the great French artists (Renoir, Rousseau, Lautrec, Dufy) he admires. Cognizant of France's love affair with American films, both Kelly and Freed were likewise aware of their contempt of any foreign depiction of their country. Arranging a screening for the then ailing Raoul Dufy, the actor and producer ducked out until the end credits. There, relieved, they found the artist, moved to tears, requesting a second viewing of the sumptuous finale.

Oscar multiplied the nervous jitters when An American in Paris aced Best Picture against such heavyweights as A Place in the Sun and A Streetcar Named Desire. Confident of its win in the color, art direction and music departments (a total of seven nominations in all), MGM was pleasantly shocked at this coup - a rarity for a musical (only twice before had this happened: 1929's The Broadway Melody and in 1936 for The Great Ziegfeld, both for Metro!) The shock turned to outrage in critical circles when the less than insightful Bosley Crowther, reviewer for The New York Times, vented his wrath upon voters "so insensitive to the excellencies of motion picture art that they would vote for a frivolous musical over a powerful and pregnant tragedy." MGM, by now 100% Schary-run, responded with good humor - placing an ad in the trades featuring a cartoon Leo, holding an Oscar with the caption: "Honestly, I was just standing IN THE SUN waiting for A STREETCAR." More important that its success at the Oscar ceremony, however, is the fact that An American in Paris expanded the boundaries of the American movie musical, paving the way for such diverse, ambitious musicals from Singin' in the Rain (1952) and The Band Wagon (1953) to Moulin Rouge! (2001) and Chicago (2002).

by Scott McGee and Mel Neuhaus