The Music Man was made at a time when we still had films that felt like genuine events. Not to disparage the modern state of the industry (which is still producing films of an exceptional quality regularly), but we’ve gone past the point where standalone films could be considered major moments in cultural history. Much of this credit must go to Meredith Wilson, whose impeccable musical is one of the most endearing and captivating works of 20th-century literature, one that doesn’t need to rely on bold concepts or the most off-the-wall premise in order to be enjoyable, but can instead simply promise old-fashioned entertainment, which it delivers from beginning to end. I cannot sing the praises for The Music Man enough, which is why it’s easy to discuss the film adaptation produced a few years after the stage production, which saw many of the same cast and crew reunite in bringing Wilson’s charming world to the screen, with the playwright himself being very active in the production, giving the film a very particular sensibility that allows it to exceed the boundaries of the stage, and become its own special, nuanced work that does not need to rely on fond memories of the original in order to be considered a success, since it manages to be extraordinary for any viewer, whether you are a devoted fan, or simply someone encountering this material for the first time. It’s a unique and peculiar film that pulsates with humour and sophistication in equal measure, and finds the space to be quite profound in the moments which are most important, which all amounts to a delightful and irreverent musical odyssey that feels like a work of sheer magic, committed to film through the use of the most vivid, beautiful colours and only the finest orchestrations that resound long after the credits have rolled.

When it comes to something like The Music Man, it is always preferable to have someone who implicitly understands the material at the helm – and who better to direct the adaptation than Morton DaCosta, who worked on the original stage production, and thus is perhaps the most knowledgable person (outside of Wilson) to take charge of the material, and considering that he is the person behind the legendary staging, we might even say that he had a much bigger task. Translating a work from the stage to the screen is intimidating for any production, but takes on an entirely different level of complexity when dealing with something like The Music Man, which is 150 minutes of madcap energy, distilled into a single stream of song, dance and comedy, which is only possible through dozens of hardworking individuals on stage and off, tasked with doing their part as a component in this well-oiled machinery that is Wilson’s extraordinary tale of con artist masquerading as a travelling salesman. One would think a film adaptation would be easier, since it didn’t need to be executed in real-time (and where the slightest loss in the perpetual rhythm of the piece was not fatal), but it brought on a plethora of additional challenges, including expanding on the world without losing the heart of the story, which was integral to a convincing exploration of these themes. It is true that they now had a bigger stage on which to work, and could become more detailed in exploring the folkloric hamlet of River City – but with this comes the responsibility of not getting too invested in the details that the main attraction (mainly the music and performances) are lost in the process. It’s a challenge with a scope that many don’t realize, which only makes the fact that the director was able to not only recreate the magic of the Broadway staging, but actually do so in a way that felt just as entertaining, which is important for the sake of posterity, since future generations now have a very strong adaptation through which we can get a brief glimpse into what made The Music Man such a sensation at the time.

There is a reason this film is considered one of the most extraordinary musicals of the 1960s (which was already an era ripe with masterpieces – there’s an argument to be made that the genre reached its peak around this time, which is an entirely separate debate), and DaCosta does everything he can to capture the spirit of his original staging. He works closely with a group of artistic collaborators behind the scenes to create this world – just as the original play was designed to be as eye-catching as the music was triumphant, the film needed to build the world of River City in a way that felt authentic, but didn’t cause the enticing, intentionally constructed aesthetic to disappear (since there are often efforts to make these musicals seem more genuine when putting them on film – the art of artifice is one that is steadily eroding as we embrace realism), but rather finds exciting ways to assimilate them into the film. Ultimately, The Music Man is a song-and-dance revue that just so happens to be structured around a compelling story, so it was as important to honour this intriguing satirical premise as it was to give viewers the delight of seeing these performances in their most gleeful, extravagant glory. There is nothing particularly revolutionary about how River City is constructed, or the manner in which director of photography     Robert Burks frames these sets and locations if we look at it from a pure technical standpoint – but it’s not a matter of only dazzling us with memorable images, but also allowing us to genuinely believe what we are watching is a work that is radically different from everything we’ve seen previously. DaCosta walks a very narrow boundary between artifice and excess, and it’s only logical that the final film would veer towards the masterful creativity he demonstrated when staging the musical, which is one of the many benefits that come with hiring those with previous experience with the material, rather than those who may be more high profile (and whose names would be used to draw audiences in), but lack the nuance to create something memorable.

The use of veterans of Wilson’s musical didn’t only extend to those behind the scenes, but also those who appeared before the camera. Several cast members from the original production of The Music Man return for this adaptation, most notable of them being Robert Preston, who had appeared in several terrific films, but was mainly successful as a stage actor. His presence here may seem obvious – after all, when it comes to one of the theatre’s great anti-heroes like Professor Harold Hill, you’d be remiss to not cast someone who had a proven track record of being able to handle this notoriously difficult role – but considering he was almost rejected from this adaptation in favour of a more notable actor, we can appreciate the efforts that went into eventually casting him. Hill is a fascinating character – he speaks and sings at a breakneck speed, and has to embody the rare combination of being despicable and hopelessly charming at the exact same time, which is integral to the overall success of the story, since without someone who could capture both sides of the character, the entire moral conundrum of The Music Man falls apart. Preston was one of our greatest examples of a showman, and he commits entirely to revisiting the part that made him famous in the first place. Many actors have tried to take on the part of Harold Hill, but this will forever be Preston’s signature role, and everyone will have to live in the shadow of his marvellous performance, which has been immortalized on film, alongside a cast of exceptional actors that may exist primarily in service of the film’s lead, but who do their part in bringing this delightful story to life, making for a terrific and complex work of character-based comedy.

The Music Man is an absolute delight, and even six decades since its release, it remains refreshing and compelling in a way that even the most modern films struggle to achieve. There’s a magic to this film that can only come from a work handcrafted by a team of gifted artists who were dedicated enough to the material to go above and beyond to create something special. They quite simply don’t make films like this anymore, cinematic events where we don’t even notice the long running time, and where we can ignore some of the heavy-handed emotions and blatant cliches, mainly because it is all so compelling, and we are constantly being invited to get lost in this world, which is an exhilarating escape from reality. We all yearn to visit River City – a small town that may be populated by stubborn folk, but which is filled with heart and a genuine joy for life, which is something that is sadly missing from a lot of modern works, even those that are more upbeat. It’s difficult to not fall in love with these characters – for some reason in this film, the jokes are funnier, the romance is more beautiful and the music enrapturing beyond compare, which makes for a thoroughly entertaining experience in which absolutely everything feels earned. There’s not a single moment in The Music Man where we feel lost or confused, since we’re guided through this captivating world by a director who genuinely seems to be invested in translating this iconic show to the screen, and allowing us the chance to get to know the residents of River City, as well as one of its most notorious visitors, who is the central figure in one of the greatest musical sensations of the past century, which has been made into an utter delight of a film.