Short Take: Summer Stock

Judy Garland and Gene Kelly had wonderful chemistry on-screen, and the combination with their outsize musical talents made them one of the most appealing movie duos. Summer Stock, the last of their three co-starring vehicles, is their best film together. The story is a romantic-comedy variation on the here's-a-barn-let's-put-on-a-show plot. Garland plays the young heir to a family farm, and devoted, against all odds, to making it a success. Her flighty sister (Gloria DeHaven) returns home with her new beau (Gene Kelly), an aspiring theater impresario. They've brought their troupe with them, with plans to stage a play in the barn. Garland's character reluctantly agrees, but on the condition the troupe serve as farm laborers for the season. As time passes, she's bitten by the performing bug, and she and Kelly's character fall in love. "You, Wonderful You" (sung by Kelly) and "Friendly Star" (by Garland) are among their best performed love songs, and "Portland Fancy" may be their most charming dance duet. But their solo routines are what dazzle the most. Garland's rendition of "Get Happy" ranks among the most joyous song-and-dance set pieces of her career. Kelly's dancing in the "You, Wonderful You" instrumental reprise is perhaps his finest screen moment. As the painter Kurt Schwitters incorporated objets trouvés in his pictures, Kelly makes use of bruits trouvés in his dancing. He plays the sounds of his dance-taps against those of a rustling newspaper and a creaky floorboard, orchestrating them with his characteristically bold movements into an astonishing cinematic collage of sounds, dance, and music. The scene goes beyond wit or artistry; it's magic. The cast also includes Phil Silvers, Marjorie Main, and Eddie Bracken. George Wells and Sy Gomberg are credited with the script, and Harry Warren and Mack Gordon wrote the songs. Charles Walters directed, and also staged the "Get Happy" number. ("Get Happy" was shot several months after the rest of production wrapped, and Garland is conspicuously thinner than in the rest of the film.) Gene Kelly choreographed "All for You," "Portland Fancy," and the "You, Wonderful You" reprise. The other production numbers were overseen by Nick Castle.

Short Take: Rashomon

Friedrich Nietzsche, in perhaps the greatest passage in his 1887 treatise On the Genealogy of Morals, called for what he described as a “more complete objectivity”: the more perspectives brought to bear on a subject, the more completely objective one’s understanding. The darker implications of the passage have had a powerful resonance. Truth is relative--a matter of perspective--and objective truth is therefore unknowable. Perceptions of reality are shaped by the viewer’s experiences, prejudices, and agendas. This philosophical notion was powerfully dramatized in Rashomon, directed by Akira Kurosawa. The setting is 11th-century Japan. During a rainstorm, three men take refuge in the ruins of a castle gate. The first two tell the third of a murder trial they watched. A bandit (Toshiro Mifune) raped a noblewoman (Machiko Kyo), and her husband (Masayuki Mori) was killed by a stab wound to the heart. The bandit, the woman, the dead man’s spirit, and a witness all provide accounts of what happened. However, none of the accounts agree. Further, each account paints the teller in the most self-serving terms, and the other principals are depicted as personifications of what appears to be each teller’s feelings of self-loathing. Kurosawa and co-scenarist Shinobu Hashimoto aren’t presenting a mystery melodrama. It’s impossible to tell from the accounts if the husband’s death was a suicide or a murder, and if the latter, who committed it. The only knowable thing, as the film presents it, is that human egotism and venality will always stand in the way of honesty and justice. It’s a despairing view of human nature, but the film ends on a hopeful note: redemption can be found in generosity and selflessness. Kurosawa’s direction is masterful. His treatment of each account is stylized in accord with the tone the teller strikes. The bandit’s version is portrayed in romantic action-adventure terms, while a soapy series of over-emphatic close-ups are used to render the woman’s histrionics. The husband’s story, centered on feelings of betrayal and disgrace, is given an austere, lonely ambience. The witness’s telling is blackly farcical slapstick. Kurosawa and cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa give the locations a distinctive look. The forest where the assault took place is an intricate weave of shadows and light, while the rain in the framing sequence is so vivid one can almost feel the water. The film is an unforgettable experience. Kurosawa and Hashimoto based the script on a pair of short stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa. Fumio Hayasaka is credited with the fine musical score.