Friday Dance Party: Don't Just Lie There, Swim Something.

That Funny Lady Fannie Brice has a small but interesting connection to the star of this week's Dance Party:

Esther Williams

1921-2013

Everybody knows Williams died last week, and while I must admit to never being able to sit through one of her movies, she deserves some notice. 

"Beware. Curves ahead."

She is, or rather was, one of the last remaining stars of the Golden Age of MGM Musicals.  With the possible exception of skating star Sonja Henie, the stardom of Williams was the most oddball of all musical careers at the time.

Whether or not Esther invented synchronized swimming, she certainly brought it into the mainstream.

Esther maintained that she had really lived three full lives.  The first was as a competitive swimmer.  She was on her way to winning some medals at the 1940 Olympic Games in Helsinki when the outbreak of WWII forced the cancellation of the games. 


Esther's stardom proved to little girls that they could be athletes
and still remain feminine.

She instead went to work as a salesclerk at a Los Angeles department store.  While inventorying stock at I.Magnin, she was contacted to replace swimming star Eleanor Holm in the Billy Rose vaudeville-styled extravaganza Aquacade. 

Billy Rose's Aquacade was one of the impresario's huge entertainment spectacles.

Thus began her second life, as an entertainer.  Her participation in the Billy Rose show brought her to the attention of MGM, who signed her for a series of musicals built around her uncanny talent of swimming, and smiling open-mouthed, underwater, without air bubbles escaping.

That open-mouthed smile, underwater, was a little freaky.

In her later years, Williams admitted to being perplexed by her own popularity. 

Williams with two other MGM stars.

The absurdity of building lavish musicals around synchronized swimming (she is sometimes given credit for actually inventing it) was not lost on our gal, but she had an engaging personality which came through on camera, and her killer body dressed in skintight onesies didn't hurt at the box office. 

When Fernando Lamas asked Esther
to stay home with the kids, she did.

But by the time heartthrob Fernando Lamas proposed marriage, she was pretty much finished at the cineplex.  That third life of hers was spent as a stay-at-home wife to the famous Latin lover.

Latin film star Fernando Lamaz fathered this dude, but alas, our Esther was only his stepmother.  Lorenzo Lamas's mother was Arlene Dahl.

This week's Dance Party is a fun tribute which appeared on YouTube after Esther died.  It is a montage of some of her films, set to a song called, appropriately, "H2O."  The singer in question is even more appropriate:  the background song is sung by Jodi Benson, who voiced Disney's The Little Mermaid (Esther Williams was known as America's Mermaid). 

Oh, and here's a fun fact which slays me.  After husband Fernando Lamas died, Williams crept back into public life.  She lent her name to a line of swimwear and was a commentator for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles.  But her most surprising act was one of refusal;  in 1972, she turned down the chance to revive her acting career in a big budget studio film which required a middle-aged woman who could swim.  Her role went elsewhere:


In the allstar disaster epic The Poseidon Adventure, Shelley Winters took the role turned down by Esther Williams, and won an Oscar nomination.



Oh, and how does Esther Williams connect with funny lady Fannie Brice?  Follow this if you can.  Impresario Billy Rose was married to Brice for a time, while sleeping with his swimming star Eleanor Holm.  Holm would later become his second wife, after his divorce from Brice.  Our Esther replaced Holm in Rose's big show.  And Fannie Brice famously described Esther thus: "Wet, she's a star.  Dry, she ain't." 

Eleanor Holm was the only swimming star to rival the celebrity of Esther Williams.  She was a real party girl.  On her way to compete in the 1936 Olympics in Germany, she champagned with Helen Hayes and won handily at craps on board her cruise ship.  Her drunken behavior was considered inappropriate, and she was banned from competing. But she latched onto producer Billy Rose, above, and together they lived a lavish lifestyle.  It was this relationship which inspired the quip which titles this piece.  In Funny Lady, Streisand's Fannie Brice surprises Holm and Rose in bed, to which she snaps, "Don't just lie there, swim something."

Nobody much liked the chemistry between Streisand and James Caan in Funny Lady.  But Esther Williams and Johnny Weismuller? Hubba hubba. Or rather; glub glub.

Friday Dance Party: Lousy Street

I'm a little behind on the Dance Parties this month, with no excuse other than the fact that I simply have not sat down to do my research.  But I shall do my best to catch up, beginning with this week's entry, which actually references some events of LAST week.  It was good news/bad news for our stars.

There was good news for Carol Burnett, who has been chosen to receive the annual Mark Twain Prize for American Humor. 

Mark Twain Prize winner Jonathan Winters, under a Big W.

The award, given by the Kennedy Center, has been around for a while, and was originally created to honor folks who had contributed a lifetime of humor to the American landscape.  Sort of a Kennedy Center Honor for comics, the early recipients were indeed people who had spent full lives on the comedy frontier: Richard Pryor, Bill Cosby, Lorne Michaels, Bob Newhart, Lily Tomlin, and the like. 

Ellen Degeneres is one of a handful of comics to receive the Mark Twain prize mid-career.  She is the reigning queen of daytime chat, and her earlier sitcom made history when both Ellen and the character she played came out.  Ellen Morgan announced her homosexuality over the paging system of the airport, and Ellen herself came out on the cover of Time magazine.  "The Puppy Episode" was the highest rated of the sitcom's run, and won two Emmys and the Peabody.

She saw it in the window and just had to have it.
If she never did anything else, Burnett's variety
show would qualify her for the Twain.

In recent years, however, the award has been given to younger performers who are arguably in the peak years of their careers;  Will Farrell, Ellen Degeneres, and Tina Fey have all received the prize.  Last week's announcement that Carol Burnett will be awarded returns the prize to its roots as a "lifetime achievement" recognition.

Carol Burnett is no stranger to the Dance Party.  Her performance on Gomer Pyle USMC, with her best gay boyfriend, appeared here, and only a few months ago, she shared an energetic number with her mentor, Lucille Ball.

This week's Dance Party features another star who did not have such a great week.  As everyone knows by now, Tim Curry recently suffered a major stroke.  We have been assured (by his agent, so who knows if it's true?) that he has already begun recovery, and is speaking.  It is to his agent's benefit to leave the impression that her client is still employable, so we can only hope her description was the truth.

They're ready for their close-up. Burnett as Nora Desmond and Curry as Frank-N-Furter are practically twins.

Curry appeared in his own Dance Party only a month or so ago, and as he is not one of my alltime favorites, it may seem odd that he returns to these pages so soon. 

Planet Shmanet, Janet, Curry could play more than a
sweet transvestite.

But I have a lot of respect for the man, and his health concerns are serious.  I covered his career and his most famous performance last month, you can read all about it here.  I have run across quite a few younger folks who are not familiar with his performance in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, if you can believe it.  They know Tim from another high-profile role, and I'm not talking about that creepy clown.

Lots of younger folks grew up with the video of Annie, and recognize Curry from his performance as Rooster.

The film version of Annie had a lot going for it, not least of which was its allstar casting. 

I am not a big fan of Annie, so it's odd that this particular number from the show has popped up so often on my Dance Party.  "Easy Street" is a classic showstopper (or ought to be), with the above cast, headed by the Tony winning Dorothy Loudon, giving the definitive version.  They appeared in these pages here.

As opposed to the disastrous casting of another famous musical, Mame, about which I wrote last time, this stage-to-screen transfer seemed ontrack.  While I would very much have wished that original star Dorothy Loudon could have recreated her unforgettable stage performance (I wrote about seeing that here), I understand why Carol Burnett was chosen to replace her. 

This TV remake of Annie is more satisfying than the big screen version, and its "Easy Street" is dominated by Alan Cumming's quirky performance as Rooster.  You can see it here.

Burnett should have been a knockout in the role of the comically wicked Miss Hannigan, having cut her teeth in musical theatre, and having the star power to sell tickets.  The casting of Bernadette Peters, Ann Reinking, Geoffrey Holder, and our Tim Curry could not be faulted.  Even the small roles had some juice;  Edward Herrmann knew his role of FDR quite well, having earned two Emmy nods playing him in earlier projects.  Pamela Blair, the original "tits and ass" girl from A Chorus Line, played a maid, and game show host Peter Marshall was perfect casting as a smarmy radio show host. 

Annie is the show that will not die. The current
revival (its SECOND) features Jane Lynch as
Miss Hannigan. Look for a clip at next week's
Tony Awards.

The only major misfire seemed to be Albert Finney, whose previous experience with a musical was playing Scrooge.  Sadly, his Daddy Warbucks had more than a passing similarity to old Ebenezer. 

But Finney's miscasting aside, Annie the film musical seemed like a swell idea, except for one problem, and it was a big one:

John Huston earned an astonishing 15 Oscar nominations during his career as a director and screenwriter.  He won twice.  He is in the history books for this accomplishment:  in 1948, he directed his father, Walter Huston, to an Oscar for The Treasure of Sierra Madre, and almost 40 years later, he directed his daughter Angelica in her Oscar-winning turn in Prizzi's Honor.  Despite being part of the first family to win Oscars in three generations, he had no business attempting to direct a musical.

John Huston was coming to the end of a long and distinguished career as a film director, and occasional actor, but despite his reputation as one of Hollywood's finest directors, producer Ray Stark made a mistake giving him Annie. 

Why wasn't Carol Burnett funnier as Miss Hannigan?
Nobody knows.

He was in poor health, and was on oxygen throughout the shoot.  Despite 4 decades as a film director, he was not qualified to direct a musical, and this week's Dance Party proves the point.  The song, once again, is "Easy Street," and Huston made a major blunder with the number. 

Ann Reinking had the thankless role of
Grace Farrell. Her chemistry with Albert
Finney never materialized.

Initially, he saw the song as a great opportunity to "open up" the stage play, and he can be forgiven for considering it.  A song called "Easy Street" which takes place in an office seems at odds with itself.  Huston determined that the number should take place outside, and an entire depression-era NY street was constructed to do so. 

Peters, Curry, and Burnett had all
carried shows on their own.
Why didn't this work better?

The street was to be populated with all the usual suspects, plus carnival performers and all sorts of background actors.  In a word, the segment was HUGE.  They even shot the thing, and it was only after the final product was screened did Huston decide he had made a mistake in placing the song outside.  After principle photography was completed, they went back into the studio and filmed the version of the song which appears in the final film, and which is showcased below.  We can only take Huston's word that it is an improvement, but it is definitely the least satisfying rendition of this showstopper that I have seen.  But in honor of Tim Curry and Carol Burnett, it's this week's Dance Party!

Friday Dance Party: Mamed

It's been four years since Bea Arthur died, but she has resurfaced this week, or at least her image has.  Here's why:

Those puppies were added by some humor editor somewhere;  the original painting shows Arthur completely topless.  It's a little too unsettling for me to post here.  Bea herself was not unsettled by the thing, and has been quoted as suggesting that the painter may have been enamored of the feminist movement of the 70s, with which Arthur was sometimes equated, due to her performance as Maude.  But the painting was created without the aid of the subject;  Bea Arthur never sat for it.

The above portrait sold at auction last week, for 1.9 million dollars.  I've been a big fan of Arthur's since she burst on the national scene with her sitcom Maude, but I had never heard of this painting until last week's auction.  The artist is a man named John Currin, and he has a reputation for providing provocative work. 

Regular visitors to these pages know I have a great admiration for Bea Arthur, evidenced by my many mentions of her.  I wrote about her life and career when she died four years ago, and since then, she showed up in this Dance Party clip, opposite Rock Hudson.  When the Oscars rolled around, and our Bea was left out of the tribute to the stars who had died in 2009, I fired off this response, which includes one of my favorite Arthur clips.  And when I was celebrating my being cast as one of musical theater's most enduring "side-kicks," I had to include this clip of our gal's most famous musical moment. By coincidence or not, that song is this week's Dance Party as well, but in a very, very, VERY different way.

Bea Arthur as Vera Charles

The song is "Bosom Buddies," which Bea sang opposite Angela Lansbury in the original Broadway production of Mame. 

"Lucy. Mame." The publicity said
it all: an icon playing an icon. What
a lousy decision.

Bea recreated her award winning performance for the film version of the show, not that anybody really noticed.  When Mame the movie was released in 1974, the reviews were brutal, particularly for the leading lady, Lucille Ball.  This film flop version of a smash Broadway show is a classic example of how Hollywood can turn huge success into crushing failure.


Lucy spent her early years as a chorine, but
without much success. Go here for a look at how
she handled musical numbers back then.

Around 1970, when Mame's original Broadway production was winding down (after a substantial four year run), talk turned to a film version.  Warner Bros paid an almost unprecedented amount for the rights to put the musical on film (only My Fair Lady had cost more), and were smart to engage legendary director George Cukor.  Bette Davis was actively campaigning to play the show's drunken sidekick, Vera Charles, and it was suggested that Carol Burnett, at the time TV's reigning female clown, would be the perfect Gooch.  The studio made a disastrous error, though, in their decision to cast Lucy as Mame.  Ball was determined to invigorate her film career, as her third and last hit TV series, Here's Lucy, was drawing to a close;  she invested 5 million of her own dollars to help finance the project. 

The original musical Mame was not famous enough
to carry the film. She went on to become one of
the most beloved TV stars, earning 18 Emmy
nominations and three more Tony Awards.

Despite the fact that original Mame Angela Lansbury had already won two of her five Tony Awards, and had three Oscar nominations to boot, producers were not convinced her name could carry such a large budgeted film.  Lucy was chosen without regard to the fact that she could not carry a tune, and in her 60s, could not dance well either.  She was an international superstar, and the studio was convinced Mame would make a bundle.

1937's Stage Door featured three future Mames. Ann Miller (left) was a replacement Mame in the original company (a tap number was added for her). Ginger Rogers (center) opened the London company and ran it for over a year.  Lucille Ball (right) preserved the role on film (did I say she "preserved" it?  I should say she pickled it).

Before shooting was to begin, Ball broke her leg, and the decision was made to delay the picture for a year. 

Lucy looked great in her costumes.

The delay caused George Cukor to bow out, which proved to be catastrophic for Mame.  Cukor had shepherded My Fair Lady from stage to screen, creating a film which won the Best Picture Oscar and is now considered a classic (Cukor won for Best Director, too).  Original Broadway director Gene Saks was hired to replace him.  Paul Zindel, who had won the Pulitzer for his play The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds, was hired to provide the screenplay, though he had never written a musical.  Saks dismissed suggestions of Bette Davis in the role of Vera, and cast his wife, Bea Arthur, who had originated the role (and won the Tony for it).

Bea Arthur emerged from the Mame debacle relatively unscathed, though one critic pointed out that the role of Vera Charles could be played by a man...and that Arthur had played her as such. It was a tense shoot, as Lucy became disturbed that Bea's performance was more comedically satisfying than her own.  Though Ball had casting approval, Arthur was at the time a substantial star (Maude was the #2 rated sitcom, while Here's Lucy  languished at #15, the first time a Lucille Ball sitcom had fallen out of the top ten), so neither the studio nor Bea's husband the director would support replacing her.  In later years, Arthur regretted appearing in Mame, calling it a disaster and an embarrassment.

When production finally began, it was immediately apparent that Lucy could not sing the part. 

Composer Jerry Herman begged the studio to
reconsider the casting of Lucy, but he had sold
his rights.

Mame contains several songs which require a solid belt, and it also contains the most famous Jerry Herman ballad of all time.  Herman himself coached Lucy on her vocals, but to little avail.  They tried to salvage the score by pasting different takes of Ball's songs together, resulting in a disjointed and confusing soundtrack.


This is the cover for the original soundtrack recording of Mame. We have only two names on this cover:  Lucy, and the character she played.  Composer Jerry Herman threatened a lawsuit, and the studio scrambled to artificially stamp every copy with his name.  Subsequent release of this record on CD corrected that oversight.

Lucy had no luck getting rid of Bea Arthur, but Madeline Kahn was another matter. 

In 1973, Madeline Kahn's career was on the rise.  Her film debut in What's Up, Doc? had attracted major attention;  as she had Paper Moon already in the can, Mame was to be her third film; she was to play mousy Agnes Gooch. She clashed with Lucille Ball right away, and the rumors swirled that Lucy did not want anyone in her movie funnier than she. I'm not sure I completely agree with that assessment, since Ball had Vivian Vance at her side for years, and Viv got plenty of laughs. Instead, it may be that Lucy, already unsure of herself in this high-profile musical, could see that Kahn was going to swipe the film. It seems when superstars are feeling the most vulnerable, they act out the most. She orchestrated Madeline's dismissal;  the studio was forced to pay Kahn her full salary.  There are those who suspect Madeline manipulated the whole thing; realizing right away that the movie was going down the toilet, she forced her own firing, freeing her up for Blazing Saddles, which solidified her standing as a leading comic actress. Kahn received back-to-back Oscar nominations for Paper Moon and Blazing Saddles. Ball never made another film.

Original Gooch Jane Connell was hired to replace Madeline Kahn, despite the fact that, at age 49, she did not look young enough to give birth, which was the major plot point involving her role. 

I have great respect for Jane Connell, who spent her life on stage, in supporting roles (I wrote a little obit for her here).  But her work in Mame the movie does not quite click.

It's a shame that Mame is so unwatchable, as its film adaptation has one of the closest resemblances to the original stage play I've ever seen.  Screenwriter Zindel preserves the original structure, with only a few tweaks.  Only one song was deleted, "That's How Young I Feel;"  it was rightfully removed, as the whole point of the song showcased the age difference between Mame and the younger generation.  The producers were trying to hide Lucy's age, not celebrate it, so that number had to go (the fact that it's a big dance number also tagged it for the chopping block). 

True to form, Lucy contested the casting of Robert Preston as her husband Beau.  She felt this Broadway legend was too short, and even presented him with special shoes with lifts.  Bizarrely, Ball wanted
Rory Calhoun for the part.

One of the more notorious aspects of Mame the movie is the director's attempts to hide Ball's age by shooting her close-ups with a soft-focus lens. 

A major mistake was made by trying
to hide Lucy's age. She was always a
glamorous star, and someone said she
would have made a fine Mame, 15
years earlier.

The results are pretty jarring, and when critic Rex Reed snarked that they must have smeared grease on the lens to remove Lucy's wrinkles, the legend took hold and is still repeated today. 

To her credit, Lucille Ball apparently worked very hard to make the movie work. 

This sequence relied on Lucy's proven gift for physical comedy.  Unfortunately, Mame did not provide many such opportunities.

Even composer Jerry Herman, who hates the movie, reports that Ball was privately distraught that her singing did not satisfy (the fact that she worked so diligently to snag the part reflects that Hollywood egotism which is such a part of superstars: she knew the role had major singing and dancing requirements, and she also knew she was not qualified, but she still wanted it). 

With the possible exception of the title tune to Hello, Dolly, Mame contains Jerry Herman's most famous song.  "If He Walked Into My Life" is a soaring ballad full of love and regret.  It has been recorded many times, with Edie Gorme winning a Grammy for her rendition in 1967.  Lucy murders the song.

Mame cries out for one of those TV remakes.
Streisand had the rights for a while, and there
was talk of a Goldie Hawn/Cher pairing a
while back. I saw Christine Baranski do it
well a while ago. Herman has said he'd love
Catherine Zeta-Jones to play it.

There are several really horrendous clips out there of the various songs in Mame which were botched;  this is not one of them.  This week's Dance Party features what is probably the only song in the movie which is not cringe-worthy, perhaps because it does not require Lucy to belt or to balladize.  Instead, it's a comic number right up her alley;  it's one of the few moments in which Mame is allowed to camp a bit.  And that, ultimately, is what sank the movie. 

Where's that boy with the bugle? He
should have sounded Taps.

Ball's vocals could have been dubbed (Lisa Kirk, who dubbed Roz Russell in Gypsy, was reportedly considered), and her dancing was minimized (she was often lifted and carried by chorus boys).  And the few moments in which she was required to supply actual acting ability, I think she came through.  But just about everybody recognized this undeniable fact:  the role of Mame Dennis required an elegant sophisticate, and Lucille Ball was a clown.  There really was no hope.

Friday Dance Party: All Astaire

Time to return the Friday Dance Party to its original intent (at least for this week), that is, as a fun showcase for The Dance.  Who better to star than one of the premiere interpreters of American Popular Dance, someone who has appeared in this segment many times?  By no coincidence, today is Fred Astaire's 114th Birthday.  Doesn't he look great?

"Backwards, and in heels," Ginger Rogers matched Fred step for step.  She's his most famous dance partner (and that includes his own sister!).  The duo appeared in one of my favorite clips in this series, just because it features simplicity.  Go here for that dance number.

This was not by any means the only time the team of Fred and Ginger have hosted the Dance Party. 

The "Dance-Off" was a popular conceit, and perhaps it still is, considering all the competition on various dance shows these days.  Fred and Ginger competed in one.  I think they won it.

And not to wear out their welcome, Fred and Ginger appeared yet again in these pages:

Rogers was a last minute replacement for Judy Garland in this film (one of the many times Judy was fired for her unreliability), and it was to become the final Astaire/Rogers film.   Here is their clip.

Never let it be said that our Fred couldn't dance with absolutely anybody.  Apparently, he could.

French pixie Leslie Caron was paired with the MUCH older Astaire in Daddy Long Legs.  For some reason, nobody thought it was creepy.  Go here for that clip.

Rita Hayward was a great star of her time period, but she was not really known for her dance abilities.

When Hayward teamed with Astaire in these pages, it was really only because she slightly resembled my mother.  I wrote about that here, which includes the Fred/Rita dance clip.

Astaire was rarely (if ever) evenly matched with his partners, but he made them look good just the same.  When he was paired with Eleanor Powell, though, he did not have to downgrade his performance.  She was one of the great hoofers of history.

Powell could match Astaire tap for tap, as seen in this pairing.

One of my favorite Dance Party clips featuring Astaire actually puts him in the subordinate position. 

Betty Hutton was one of the great musical comedy stars of her time, though is largely forgotten today.  I love her, and she stars in this clip, with a surprise appearance by Astaire.  OK, I guess I ruined the surprise.

Well, because Astaire is turning 114 today, it's about time he got his own solo dance routine in these pages. 

Astaire was not particularly versatile as an actor,
but his light and breezy style was put to good
use in the 1960s spy series It Takes A Thief,
playing Robert Wagner's father.

The clip is from Damsel In Distress, which I must confess I have not seen.  I suppose all Astaire musicals are now considered classics, but this one seems to float under the radar a bit.  Fred's co-star was Joan Fontaine, and isn't it just like a producer to hire a star for a musical without first finding out if she can dance?  Fontaine couldn't, and our Fred attempted to replace her with Ruby Keeler.  Joan remained in the film, and director George Stevens did his best to hide her two left feet with camera trickery and, in one instance, a bunch of trees. 


A madcap romp through a funhouse, with costars Burns and
Allen, provides some comic relief.

The movie introduced several Gershwin songs which went on to become standards, such as "A Foggy Day (in London Town)" and "Nice Work If You Can Get It," but the film did not succeed.  Damsel in Distress was the first Astaire film to lose money, but it gives our hero a nice platform to finally strut his stuff solo. This clip, as so many of the numbers in the Astaire dance repertoire, was shot in a continuous take. Happy Birthday, Fred!