beyond fred, ginger & gene

Vincente Minnelli's “Bells Are Ringing,” made in 1959 and released in 1960, is something of a transitional musical film. The genre was already starting to wane at the time and Minnelli, seemingly aware of this, made inventive decisions to accomodate the changing tastes of the moviegoing public.

For one, he abbreviated the Jule Styne-Adolph Green-Betty Comden score which, although wonderful on stage, would have been deadening on film. (The only real loss is the haunting ballad, "Long Before I Knew You.") Once the score was pared down, Minnelli came up with clever ways to stage the numbers, the best being Dean Martin's rushing rendition of "I Met a Girl," sung as passersby bump into and push him along Times Square.

For "Mu Cha Cha," he dropped the Comden-Green lyric, and had it staged as a casual, improvisatory number. On Broadway, "Bells Are Ringing" was co-choreographed by its director, Jerome Robbins, and Bob Fosse. For the film, Minnelli hired - and reportedly quickly fired - the estimable Hermès Pan, replacing him with the unknown Charles O’Curran. (Pan's only contribution that was retained in the finished film is the "Midas Touch" number, featuring Hal Linden, and Minnelli practically obscures it.)

On film, the "Mu Cha Cha" number is beautifully simplistic, with star Judy Holliday being taught the cha-cha-cha by Jimmy Ames (as a delivery kid) and Ruth Storey (as a colleague at the answering service where Holliday's Ella Peterson works). It boasts a pleasing, scratch-pad casualness.

The charming, low-keyed number, as noted, was choreographed by O’Curran and scored by Styne - and photographed by Milton Krasner and edited by Adrienne Fazan. Comden and Green's unused lyric isn't missed.

The number: "Mu Cha Cha"

The composer: Jule Styne

The choreographer: Charles O'Curran

The dancers: Judy Holiday, Jimmy Ames and Ruth Storey

The cinematographer: Milton Krasner

The editor: Adrienne Fazan

The production designers: Preston Ames and George W. Davis

beyond fred, ginger & gene

A tender, authentic moment in an otherwise synthetic, cloying film.

 The film: “The Sound of Music” (1965)

 The director: Robert Wise

 The number: “Laendler” ("The Lonely Goatherd")

 The composer: Richard Rodgers

 The choreograhers: Marc Breaux and Dee Dee Wood

 The dancers: Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer

 The cinematographer: Ted McCord

 The editor: Ted McCord

 The production designer: Boris Leven

the beginning: beyond fred, ginger & gene

This is the start of my tribute to memorable dance sequences on film and, in the spirit of this site, the usual suspects will not be included. There's nothing here with Astaire, Rogers or Kelly. Instead, each day throughout April, I'll showcase a dance that, from where I sit, has gone, well, unsung.

First up: Tommy Rall and Bob Fosse dancing up a storm in "The Competition" (aka, "No Room for Mr. Gloom") from Richard Quine's delightful 1955 film musical, "My Sister Eileen." The basis for the number is simple: Both Fosse and Rall are vying for Janet Leigh's attention, with each one trying to prove himself the better man - or, in this case, dancer.

It's a game of terpsichorean oneupsmanship, very cleverly executed.

The number: "The Competition"/"No Room for Mr. Gloom" (The unused lyric for "No Room for Mr. Gloom" was written by Leo Robin, Styne's writing partner on the excellent "My Sister Eileen" score.)

The composer: Jule Styne

The choreographer: Bob Fosse

The dancers: Tommy Rall and Fosse

The cinemtographer: Charles Lawton, Jr.

The editor: Charles Nelson

The production designer: Walter Holscher

tilda, rachael & Will

It's getting to the point that there are precious few current films worth seeing, let along discussing. The title of Glenn Kenny's inspired non-review of Gary Ross's "The Hunger Games" says it all: "From Hunger." (But exactly why is everyone else so excited about this movie which, it seems to me, is a triumph of marketing, not filmmaking?)

Anyway, three titles, about which no one seems to care, are worth recommending nevertheless.

First, there's Lynne Ramsay’s “We Need to Talk About Kevin,” a deliciously demented film with Tilda Swinton as the mother of an evil spawn - an awful teenage son who goes berserk and traps a bunch of kids in the school gym (à la "Carrie") and kills them with his bow and arrows (à la "The Hunger Games").

The film, which traces the steps of Kevin from screaming infant to obstinant toddler to aforementioned awful teen - is being sold as a social statement on disturbed kids waiting to explode but it's really a horror film about the hazards of breeding. Question: Did Swinton receive an Oscar nomination for this? Who remembers? Who cares? Still, she deserved one. Next up is Robbie Pickering’s raggy "Natural Selection," about Linda, a barren Christian woman whose hypocrite husband piously refuses to have recreational sex with her (ah, there Rick Santorum!) but has no problem jerking off to religious pornos at the local sperm bank.

When the prig has a stroke during an ejaculation, his betrayed wife finds out about her hubby's favorite pasttime - and the fact that he sired at least one nameless kid, a boy who is now a grown man. Linda decides to track down the kid and what follows is a road film of self-discovery, self-fulfillment and, yes, sexual awakening.

"Natural Selection" is anchored by a game, resourceful performance by Rachael Harris, a terrific, intelligent comedic actress who usually plays shrews ("The Hangover") or moms ("Diary of a Wimpy Kid").

Get this woman a major role already! Matt Piedmont's "Casa de mi Padre" is an amiable curiosity - a Will Ferrell lark spoken entirely en español (with some made-up malapropisms tossed in for extra laughs). The publicity for film - about a land barron, his two sons (Diego Luna is the good son; Ferrell is the stupid one, natch) and a vicious drug dealer (Gael García Bernal) - likens it to a telenovela, but it's actually closer to a cheezy Grade-Z Mexican import.

Best gag: A title tells us that it was filmed in "MexicoScope."

It's great fun, even while it's winding down. But who on earth will bother to see it? Perhaps that's why Lionsgate gave it a less pushy opening than it accorded ... "The Hunger Games."

cinema obscura: Charles Lane's "Sidewalk Stories" (1989)

Critics, like a lot of other people, have very short memories, although most of them would avidly debate that notion.

Case in point: When Michel Hazanavicius' "The Artist" was released with much (aggressive) fanfare last fall, critics greeted this novelty - a silent film photographed in black & white - as a refreshing revelation.

Of course, Gene Kelly and Jackie Gleason attempted a similar conceit way back in 1962 with "Gigot" - although Kelly's film was shot in color.

More recently (well, 1989), there was a tiny film by African American filmmaker Charles Lane - the silent "Sidewalk Stories," a disarming Chaplinesque tale (read: "The Kid") of an artist (played by Lane) who decides to raise a toddler after her father is murdered.

Released by Palm Pictures, "Sidewalk Stories" was championed by critics for its commingling of modest virtures and cinematic daring, but has since fallen into oblivion, becoming a forgotten film. The very critics who praised it in '89 had no idea it was even made by the time they were being seduced by "The Artist" and its ironically loud marketing campaign. Lane's film was televised by PBS and on cable television in the 1990s and saw limited exposure on VHS, but is currently ... unavailable.

Edie Falco, Tom Hoover and Darnell Williams are seen in early roles in a cast that was as unknown as them at the time.