Review of 42nd Street (1933) by Cli O — 13 Nov 2008

Legs, legs, and more legs. Busby Berkeley has one of the most unique choreographies I have ever seen. Those last ten minutes are visually unparalleled and hard-earned. It is very rare for a musical to be like this and I guess I've been used to the charismatic charms of genial, happy-go-lucky stars in the likes of Astaire and Rogers and Kelly smiling without reservations it's kind of weird to see a movie that PRECEDES them duke it out with such balls and seedy worldliness.

The Hays code generally kept everything G-rated and only hinted at what sexual chemistry brimmed underneath, as well as the not-so-pretty aspects. I mean sure the golden MGM musical age was sexy and everything but it was always understated and few even ventured beyond a kiss.

Innuendo was even kept at a low and directors constantly had to think of new ways to be sexy without the sex...blurring out and smoking cigs and all that. This was the true 1930s before any kind of censorship was enstated, and for the first time I have realized those times aren't so different from our times.

Everybody was irrevocably more glamourous but show biz was show biz. But the reason I enjoyed this movie's debauchery was because it still maintained a standard of class despite its subject matter, like the shoe quivering down, down, down to the ground in an obviously blissful orgasm, and the little butt slaps, but still everybody was garbed beautifully and the pert quips laced with sexual overtones instead of underhanded undertones.

I don't know, the acting wasn't great but it's not an acting movie. The story was basically nothing but Lloyd Bacon managed to assemble an unforgettable cast with colorful characters and fantastic dancing and I used to think that color was necessary for musicals to come to life but I actually prefer this sans color.

A fantastic precedent for what was soon to come.