6/10
Fred and Rita: the Perfect Mismatch
1 July 2009
I assume the title is referring to Rita Hayworth and not dancin' Fred; it has to be said that Hayworth really is enjoying the luminous beauty and healthy sheen of a creature in their absolute prime here. Beside her, Astaire - who, had he attempted a career in movies without those flashing feet, would have been consigned to the role of gawky comedy sidekick instead of elegant leading man - looks skinny and prematurely old. Until he starts dancing, of course, and then they look like they were made for each other.

When the two of them aren't dancing, Adolphe Menjou keeps stealing the picture as Rita's over-protective father who writes anonymous love letter to his own daughter in the hope that she will fall in love with her fictitious beau. Yeah, it's one of those ridiculous Hollywood plots that the studios felt obliged to squeeze in between the musical numbers. I wonder if audiences in the 40s found them as crass as we do today? Anyway, the plot - what there is of it - follows it's predictable course, but nobody really watches these movies for its plot, and this film's greatest strength today is that it transports us back to a Hollywood that no longer exists; a Hollywood that oozes chic glamour and style, and offers escape to those romantics to whom plot and characterisation are secondary concerns.
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