Top Hat (DVD)

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Fred and Ginger. I daresay there isn't a person alive reading this review (except those readers who have been known to expire before the end of my first paragraphs) who doesn't recognize the names of the most-famous dance duo in movie history. And I don't mean Fred Rogers and Ginger Snap.

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made ten films together, starting with "Flying Down to Rio" in 1933 and continuing through "The Barkleys of Broadway" in 1949. Many of the stars' fans consider their 1935 release "Top Hat" the best of the lot. If it isn't, it's certainly high on the list.

Given the two incandescent leads, plus lyrics and music by Irving Berlin, direction by Mark Sandrich (who also did Fred and Ginger's "The Gay Divorcee," "Follow the Fleet," "Shall We Dance," and "Carefree"), and a lavish production by Pandro S. Berman, how could the film lose?

There is practically no plot to speak of, which is all to the good because we don't have anything to interfere with our enjoyment of the music and dancing. Astaire plays Jerry Travers, an American song-and-dance man brought to London by a big-time impresario, Horace Hardwick (Edward Everett Horton), to star in one of his shows. Rogers plays Dale Tremont, a young fashion model Jerry meets his first night in town and with whom he instantly falls in love. But trouble develops when Dale mistakenly assumes that Jerry is Horace, a married man. So as Jerry is doing his best to pursue Dale, Dale is doing her best to avoid a guy she thinks is a cad. This mistaken identity gambit was pretty old even when Astaire and Rogers did it, and it continues to be a staple of romantic comedies to this day. It goes on for most of the movie and proves a cute if slim excuse for developing the storyline's meager conflict.

The film is episodic, each small segment falling neatly into place, making it easy for the WB transfer engineers to decide on where to place their chapter stops. This tidy little arrangement of episodes provides the film a relaxed, unpretentious mood where the stars and the music are all that matter.

In the supporting cast are the aforementioned Horton, always playing the befuddled straight man; Eric Blore as Bates, Hardwick's fussy, formal valet, endlessly speaking of himself in the plural but always there to lend his employer a helping hand; Erik Rhodes as Albert Beddini, Dale's business partner and ardent admirer, a rich, conceited Italian fashion designer who wants desperately to marry the lady; and Helen Broderick as Madge Hardwick, the producer's long-suffering wife.

None of these people make much of an impression next to Astaire, though. It's his show through and through. The man must have been born with dancing shoes on. Even when he's surrounded by a chorus of dancers, we hardly notice them, out attention riveted on Astaire. He doesn't walk; he glides. Besides, the camera loves him. He was never movie-star handsome, yet his charismatic presence permeates every scene.

The music is ceaselessly delightful, and thanks to Astaire it sometimes springs out of nowhere. Astaire is liable to break out into song and dance at any given moment, such as the time he's in his friend Hardwick's apartment simply talking to him and is suddenly given over to a fit of singing and dancing. Astaire is a marvel; it goes without saying. Moreover, the periodically clever cinematography matches the always clever dance moves, yet neither the photography nor the dancing is ever anything but graceful and natural. Mostly, it's Astaire in long or medium shots, sometimes filmed in a mirror or from an acute angle, doing what he does best.

Surprisingly, Astaire and Rogers don't have their first dance together until well into the picture, about a half an hour in, but when it comes, it's all the more charming for our having to wait. The dance is set during a rainy day in the park, the couple dancing on a small, covered bandstand or pavilion to the tune of "Isn't This a Lovely Day." It is a lovely routine, even if it ends quite abruptly. Earlier, Astaire had a chance to sing "No Strings" ("Fancy Free"), and after these pieces there are the showstopping "Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails," a big production number; "Dancing Cheek to Cheek," the highlight of the movie for me (and for just about everyone else in the world); and a big finale, "The Piccolino," a kind of Busby Berkeley production with the camera often pointing down from on high as the dancers implement a kaleidoscope performance. Still, it's Fred and Ginger who stand out even here, dancing in the center of the ballroom and commanding our attention every second.

"Top Hat" features glittering high-society backdrops, luxury art-deco suites, and opulent sets that must have seemed like another world entirely to the Depression-era audiences who first saw the movie. The marvel is that even after seventy years, the same elements delight us all over again. Good songs, good dancing, and good stars never go out of style.