As far as movie musicals go, there are few images more iconic than that of three sailors in pristine white uniforms gleefully leaping off their ship in the harbour and setting off into the Big Apple, while singing about what a wonderful town New York City is. The images contained in On the Town essentially defined the genre we now fondly refer to as MGM musicals, where some of the biggest stars of the day made an enormous impact, working with gifted artists to make works of historical importance. On the Town, which is loosely adapted from the stage production of the same name (which featured music by Leonard Bernstein, whose original music was a source of immense controversy in relation to this film), is a pure delight, an effervescent and very funny musical comedy with great performances and a ton of unforgettable images – and serving as the directorial debut for both Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen (who had a close working relationship for several years, producing some of the finest films of their era), it indicated the start of a flourishing partnership between inarguably the greatest dancer to ever work in the medium of the film, and the person often tasked with capturing the madcap energy he brought to the screen. Undeniably, it may not reach the heights of some of their later work, especially not the incredible Singin’ in the Rain, but this doesn’t matter much when we consider how there is value in absolutely every frame of the film, turning On the Town from a slight effort into a wonderfully entertaining experience that feels extremely authentic, and consistently true to a particular vision that we don’t often find ourselves encountering all that often in contemporary musicals.

Very few individuals have been able to move on screen in quite the same way that Gene Kelly did – we have seen people who can dance better than him (although that is quite rare), but they often take the approach of making it a very formal sort of expression, where the human body is the primary tool of communication. Like any great actor who had an aptitude for dancing, Kelly understood that there was more than just being able to do the steps, and that the key to a great performance is to infuse it with an endless stream of charm, which he had in an abundance. As one of the three central sailors that kick off the narrative, Kelly anchors the film and keeps it afloat, but is generous enough to not take up all the space, instead allowing his two primary co-stars, Jules Munshin and Frank Sinatra (the latter perhaps slightly weaker as a dancer, but certainly cast as a result of his iconic singing voice) to have their moment as well. It’s a fascinating curio of a film, being made at a time when Kelly was already relatively well-established as a result of several films that saw him utilizing his skillfulness when it comes to moving his feet, but before he had taken on the responsibilities of an auteur – and in the process of putting this film together, he formed a strong connection with Donen, who would serve as his co-director on several works. On the Town seems like a perfect situation for an actor like Kelly to make his debut, since his self-assured swagger and incredible compassion for not only his roles, but those of his co-stars, makes for deeply compelling viewing, elevating this film far beyond just a series of pleasant images projected at us at a remarkable pace.

If there is a weakness to On the Town, it would be the dissonance between the visual scope and the music. Bernstein famously boycotted the film after it was decided, during the stage-to-screen journey, that his work was too melodramatic and operatic for filmgoers, and the decision was to elide a considerable amount of his beautiful compositions. On one hand, Bernstein’s work can certainly be classified as being much more rich and evocative than most would expect from a dazzling MGM musical – but when one has access to the work of one of music’s most significant geniuses, it seems wildly inappropriate to even touch his compositions, let alone cut most of them entirely. This contrasts sharply with the actual production value of the film, with Kelly and Donen putting in a significant amount of work to bring this film to life. On the Town is filmed in the most gorgeous Technicolor, which captures every minuscule detail of New York City with such vibrancy, giving it the sensation of being profoundly modern, fooling us into momentarily thinking it is a much more recent effort, rather than a film produced over seventy years ago. Kelly’s choreography is also suitably brilliant, and whether it be the more rapidly-paced sequences, or those that are more measured for their structural beauty, he captures the splendour of the human body and its capacity for movement with such incredible dedication.

On the Town essentially works better as a cohesive, homogenous entity than it does a series of smaller components, since breaking it down into individual elements ultimately leads to some of the flaws becoming glaringly obvious. Beyond the bizarre and misplaced decision to remove most of Bernstein’s music, the film doesn’t have much of a thrust outside of the central premise, which likely works better on stage than it does on film – it is by no means poorly written (Adolph Green and Betty Comden write exceptionally well, adapting their original script with the kind of dedication many playwrights would struggle to achieve), but rather that it is often too slight to maintain much interest outside of seeing the visual grandeur evoked by Kelly and Donen. The actors are uniformly very good – we’ve already mentioned how Kelly himself was a phenomenal performer, but the work being done by Sinatra and Munshin do come very close to reaching his level (especially since the three leads were cast for different reasons and thus occupy distinct places in the narrative – Kelly is the dancer, Sinatra is the sing, and Munshin is the comedic relief who quietly steals the whole film, despite not being billed alongside his bigger co-stars). It also helps that the film casts three extremely interesting women as the love interests of the main characters, with Ann Miller, Betty Garrett and Vera-Ellen all having very different functions, but being on the same level in carrying the film, handling the diverse material and taking the challenges in stride. The performances are almost too excellent for the film, which can sometimes feel overstuffed in terms of trying to make use of everyone – but it is in this creative chaos that On the Town truly succeeds and becomes a truly enthralling experience.

The main lesson that we receive walking away from On the Town is that, despite their very effervescent and quirky atmospheres, these are exceptionally challenging films to make, since they entail a wide range of moving parts, many of which can only come about through laborious effort. It would be foolish to suggest that this film reaches the peaks of something like Singin’ in the Rain, but it does certainly come very close, especially when it is working at its full capacity, dedicated almost entirely to the process of having fun while still telling a story that will captivate viewers. It doesn’t have much in terms of a strong narrative, especially when the central tension comes about through searching for an elusive woman, which is resolved midway through the film, leaving the rest of the running time to be occupied by off-beat meandering by way of many well-crafted dance sequences. It’s not a particularly serious film, but it has heart and soul, which ultimately means more than anything that surrounds it, leading us to easily see On the Town is a delightfully endearing musical comedy that reminds us of the precise reasons why the big-budget movie musical was such an enormously successful genre, and one that has sustained its reputation over time, perhaps even becoming better with age.