Cecile Lusby 2182
words
Though Your Dreams be Tossed and Blown
‘Old songs are the little houses our hearts once lived in.” Ben Hecht
Stories have shaped the minds and hearts
of children from the beginnings of humankind. They first bring enchantment, and
then teach. My moral life developed as I listened to my mother read bedtime
stories to me, and then to the plays and mysteries and songs on the radio. I
later went to movies in the days before the ascendancy of television
(1946-1955). Unique among the arts, the movie musical combines a visual story
with the lyrics and melody of its songs. Of all the musicals I saw as a child I
remember the animation of Song of the
South and Dumbo, in 1951 the
musical Show Boat, and ten years
later, Carousel. Younger readers can
view the movies on Netflix or check the songs on Youtube to experience the same
films discussed here.
The first movie musical I recall seeing
was Song of the South, but I don’t
remember
much. When I heard that Disney had
stopped distributing the film for its lack of political correctness and historical
accuracy, my mind was flooded with visions of my mother and me as we tacked up
the movie poster singing Zip-a-dee doo dah. I fell asleep next to that poster every
night when I was five years old. My mother, newly divorced, talked about how
Uncle Remus told stories to make us all happy and taught us to look on the
bright side. The movie’s grandfather hired Uncle Remus to try to cheer little
Johnny and his mother after his father had left the family, the exact situation
I was in.
Dumbo is a tiny baby elephant with outsized ears whose mother loves him
just the way he is. When the other big elephants in the circus tease him, his
mother runs amok and is promptly locked up in a cage with a sign saying “Mad
Elephant”. The circus separates the mother and baby until my favorite scene
when a little mouse brings Dumbo to her and she reaches her trunk through the
bars of her cell to caress her baby, tenderly lift him up, and rock him to the
lullaby ‘Baby Mine’. That scene made me
feel the violation of his mother’s imprisonment and the beauty of her love her
baby, no matter what minor flaws he might have. I loved how Dumbo’s large ears
brought him the magical gift of flying. It was a lesson to us not to judge by
appearances.
I did not see Dumbo until I
had had my strabismus first surgery, after four years of wearing a patch over
my good right eye. The surgery failed to straighten my left eye, but at least I
didn’t have to wear a patch.. At times children mocked my cross-eyed
appearance, so when I saw Dumbo, it was as someone who had already lived with
teasing for being a little different.
As I grew older I looked for more serious
movies and so in 1951 I went to see Showboat, an adaptation of Edna Ferber’s
1926 novel. The history of race in America is a complex one, and at nine years
of age, this was my first movie dealing with the topic. I found a quarter under
my bed, the price of a child’s ticket then, and walked to the Theater with my
neighbors. I was drawn to the panorama of people on the river, in the fields,
and on deck. While most of the musical concerned the 1890s love story of
Magnolia and Gaylord Ravenal, the major
part was that of Ava Gardner, a gypsy goddess, playing the major role of Julie
Laverne, lead actress on the Cotton Blossom. As she dances and talks, her beauty pulled me
into her story and I was transfixed. I felt concern for most of the characters,
but mostly for Julie. Early in the film the Sheriff comes on board looking for
the actress, and the upbeat mood changes to dread. He announces that he has
received information that Julie’s mother was ‘negro’. The news shocked me since
Julie in the film (Ava Gardner) looks like a white person with a tan, so I was
confused until the lawman speaks of her white husband, Steve, and uses the word
miscegenation, giving the explanation
that the marriage was against the law in those parts. Steve quickly pricks
Julie’s hand, putting her wounded finger to his lips to mix her blood with his,
following the old rule that just one drop of African blood makes you ‘Negro.’
As Steve tries to be a little bit black to stay with his wife, my
nine-year-old mind said, “Yes! We have a solution!”
When the Sheriff refuses to accept them
as lawfully married people, Steve and Julie have to leave the boat or risk
being arrested. As Julie Laverne, green-eyed and gorgeous, walks down the plank
and off the boat a half hour into the movie, my world changed and I wept there
in my seat. Seeing her stranded, exiled on the shore as the steamboat moves
down the Mississippi transformed me. I thought there would be a happy ending
for her, just as there was in Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Secret Garden, and
Snow White. Why should she be punished and set apart? Why had the rules changed? As the camera pulls away I saw Julie and
Steve move off screen. At just that point William Warfield begins to sing ‘Old Man River’ and the song underscores the
loss. The audience wonders about her fate.
There’s an old man called the Mississippi
There’s an old man that I long to see
What does he care if the world’s got
troubles?
What does he care if the land ain’t free?
Here are all the elements of
dissonance in a song: Jerome Kern’s music and Oscar Hammerstein’s words. The
heart rises with the melody, but the river metaphor tells us people suffer,
there is inequity, and the world is indifferent. I sat still waiting for
Julie’s return.
Little by little the singers and dancers
reveal their universe to us off stage and on. As I sat in the dark comfort of
the cool theater, I learned about Gaylord Ravenal’s gambling and Magnolia
surviving Gaylord’s desertion. But
Julie’s absence deepened my curiosity. When I saw her later alone and drinking,
I felt tenderness for her and sensed the burden of her secrets and losses. What would happen to my heroine?
Seeing the Technicolor beauty of Showboat and hearing the songs created
a feeling of happiness in me from the first frame, but gradually the heavy plot
changed my feelings. The movie ends with Julie in the shadows of the dock
waving at the riverboat, unseen by her friends onboard. Showboat
taught me to care about the people left behind.
The lesson I took from the film was to love Julie, not to judge her. I judged
the Sheriff and the old law he served.
In 1956 I took myself to see the
afternoon showing of Carousel using my babysitting money. I paid fifty cents
admission when I was fourteen, but years earlier I had listened to the
abbreviated radio version by the Theater Guild. Rogers and Hammerstein used the
storyline from a play by Ferenc Molnar, Liliom
to make this ‘all American musical’. As the movie opens the orchestrated
calliope pumps out the opening waltz with dizzying changes, the audience travels
back in time to a day at the fair. Carrie chats about Mr. Snow, her intended,
as she and Julie Jordan walk together. The comparison of Carrie and Julie
reflects the contrast between domesticity and desire. Sexual yearning exists in
both males and females, but Carrie wants a husband; Julie yearns for a mate.
Julie persuades Carrie to go away
so she can talk to the barker, Billy Bigelow. In the movie this young man is
not so young, in fact he seems a little seedy in his rumpled checkered pants.
Still we notice he is very muscular and masculine. Julie looks lovely in a costume resembling
the ‘little Lanz dress’ with its buttoned up, fitted bodice and flared skirt so
popular in the 1950s. Most girls can
identify with Julie Jordan, the ingénue portrayed by the young Shirley Jones.
Yet here in the very first scenes something is off, something is wrong with
Billy Bigelow that we can see, and Julie cannot.
She starts to sing in a light voice a
rising melody setting a new and hopeful mood. As Billy speaks he appears
skeptical and tough, but right away I caught glimpses of the mysterious
qualities Julie sees. She is feminine and gentle, a little too trusting. Billy is older, worldlier, saying we are all
just specks on a little planet in a larger universe.
On
a night like this I start to wonder
What life is all about…
The sky’s so big the sea looks small.
And two little people, you and I,
We don’t count at all.
Hard
words, but when Julie begins singing, she is all bright faith. Where Billy is rash
and rough, Julie sees blossoms falling and wants to believe. The movie was my
first memory of a story showing the attraction of opposites. So begins the
great duet of Carousel, If I Loved
You. As the song progresses, one speaks and the other listens. They don’t sing
together, they don’t harmonize their parts; each is tentative, wondering
whether to lead or to follow, to go on as separate individuals or try being a
couple. In this way they extend that moment of uncertainty, ambivalence, and
hesitation, but that hesitation is brief and the story continues.
If I loved you
Words wouldn’t come in an easy way
Round in circles I’d go
Longing to tell you, but afraid and shy
I’d let my golden chances pass me by.
This song expresses the dilemma of
whether an individual should explore his/her own potential or become part of a
larger community. Are we tiny motes in a
cold night sky or unique persons acting within the force of nature? Each phrase is tentative, the melody rises as
our voices do when we question. They
both consider the risk of embarrassment if their feelings are not returned or the
chance of losing love by not speaking out.
If silence is a risk, so is expression.
Off you would go
In the mist of day
Never ever to know
How I loved you
If I loved you
Billy and Julie meet and marry; Julie gets pregnant just as Billy loses
his job. He dies while taking part in a robbery. The entire relationship takes
place within two months. The play leaves Julie to face motherhood as a widow alone
in the world with no money. This bleak story line is what Molnar, a Hungarian
Jew who came to American fleeing Hitler, contributed. The glowing optimism that
dominates this musical is the work of Rogers and Hammerstein.
The films skips ahead fifteen years when
Heaven lets Billy visit earth for one day to see his little girl, Louise being teased
by other children for being the daughter of a thief. The village doctor speaks at her graduation
and tells the youngsters not to be held back by the success or failings of
their parents, but to stand on their own and try to be happy.
Earlier in the film Billy
slaps Julie, but she later claims she didn’t feel it. I was shocked at this
false note. Similarly I did not agree
with the message in ‘What’s The Use of
Wonderin’’ because it was too traditional in its view of marriage being
inevitable, and its success depending on the long-suffering wife.
When he wants your kisses, you will give them to the
lad.
And anywhere he leads you, you will walk,
And if he says he needs you, you’ll go running there like
mad
He’s your fella and you love him
And all the rest is talk.
Those minor quibbles aside, I love the movie. It shows a cycle of life
where young women, who often pick the wrong mate, carry on to raise their children.
Carousel lets us know that love
involves risk and teaches us to keep on trying even if our plans fail. The
dynamic tension in Carousel’s opening scenes compares a solitary life with the
shared life of a couple. Julie Jordan hears rumors and doubts them, hesitates, but
takes the risk to love while she is very young, and then finds the courage to
go on alone after Billy dies.
The songs in these Hollywood musicals
teach us about life and death, love and tolerance. It is the feeling in songs
that these movies convey so well, not just costumes or plot lines. These four
movies: Song of the South, Dumbo, Showboat, and Carousel celebrate life while
acknowledging its losses and sadness.
The courage of the characters left me wanting to change what evil I saw
in the world, and led me to care about others no matter their differences.
