So, last night’s planned double feature for Haven and me was going to be RHAPSODY IN BLUE and NIGHT AND DAY, being biopics of George Gershwin and Cole Porter, respectively of course. But I had no idea that both films were as long as they were, so we only got to do Warner Bros.’ 1945 ode to the composer (who had died less than a decade earlier at the tragically young age of 38). Directed by Irving Rapper, the movie stars Robert Alda (Alan’s dad) as Gershwin, with numerous musical figures playing themselves, including buddy Oscar Levant, Paul Whiteman (the *tee-hee* “King of Jazz”), and—most discomfitingly—Al Jolson, in full blackface, belting out “Swanee,” one of Gershwin’s first hits, in 1920 (and, fair warning, that’s not the only instance of this idiom in the film).
My expectations were slight, knowing the checkered history of the musical biopic (of which this movie was an early example), often loaded with apocryphal tales of songs’ creations, manufactured drama, and amalgamated supporting characters. RHAPSODY contains those things, to be sure (a musical mentor wonderfully played by Charles Coburn and two girlfriends played by Alexis Smith and Joan Leslie, to name but three fictional characters). The story traffics in 1940s melodrama as well, but what I was NOT prepared for was how Gershwin’s music (which I love) would be presented in such an incredibly powerful way, dramatically shot, played mostly in its entirety (if sometimes rushed), performed by some brilliant musicians (classical / jazz pianist and singer Hazel Scott is incredible).
The film’s pivotal scene, in which Gershwin’s signature composition, “Rhapsody in Blue” is presented for the first time by Whiteman (who actually compelled its creation) at Aeolian Hall in NYC on February 12, 1924 is one of the most moving musical scenes I’ve ever seen in a film. While the 14-minute piece is played a bit up-tempo to fill a still-long nine minutes of screen time, watching the musicians introduce this brand new hybrid of classical and jazz music—one of the greatest compositions in American musical history—while the initially skeptical audience is ultimately stunned by its genius and swept away by its ebullient magnificence had me in tears. The film’s worth watching for that scene alone.
The film’s not perfect, for sure. Alda (in his film debut) is fine, but doesn’t really convey the kind of social detachment and sheer brilliance (and, reportedly, frequent womanizing) that defined the real George Gershwin. At least they didn’t make up a happy romantic ending for him, and the musician’s untimely death from an undiagnosed brain tumor feels almost like a writer’s construct the way it plays out. But, surprisingly, I find myself recommending RHAPSODY IN BLUE to anyone who appreciates Gershwin’s work. I found myself digging out all of my Gershwin records after watching the movie, and what more proof of a musical biopic’s success do you need?
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