Dancing Dreams: Performing American Identities in Postwar Hollywood Musicals, 1944-1958
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Dancing Dreams: Performing American Identities in Postwar Hollywood Musicals, 1944-1958 Pamella R. Lach A dissertation submitted to the faculty of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Department of History Chapel Hill 2007 Approved by: Peter G. Filene John F. Kasson Robert C. Allen Jerma Jackson William Ferris ©2007 Pamella R. Lach ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ii Abstract Pamella R. Lach Dancing Dreams: Performing American Identities in Postwar Hollywood Musicals, 1944-1958 (Under the direction of Peter G. Filene) With the pressures of the dawning Cold War, postwar Americans struggled to find a balance between conformity and authentic individualism. Although musical motion pictures appeared conservative, seemingly touting traditional gender roles and championing American democratic values, song-and-dance numbers (spectacles) actually functioned as sites of release for filmmakers, actors, and moviegoers. Spectacles, which film censors and red- baiting politicians considered little more than harmless entertainment and indirect forms of expression, were the least regulated aspects of musicals. These scenes provided relatively safe spaces for actors to play with and defy, but also reify, social expectations. Spectacles were also sites of resistance for performers, who relied on their voices and bodies— sometimes at odds with each other—to reclaim power that was denied them either by social strictures or an oppressive studio system. Dancing Dreams is a series of case studies about the role of spectacle—literal dances but also spectacles of discourse, nostalgia, stardom, and race—in inspiring Americans to find forms of individual self-expression with the potential to challenge prevailing norms. It explores how Gene Kelly tried to broaden definitions of dance and art to make a case for the heterosexual male dancer; how Judy Garland used her performances to strike back at studio executives who tried to mold her femininity; how racial iii stereotypes and the Hollywood politics of race limited Oscar Hammerstein’s liberal messages of racial inclusion and cooperation; and how fantasy dances could remold nationality and gender. Musical motion pictures thus expand the definition of rebellion to include the sort of private, and often, quiet forms of personal resistance that occurred throughout the 1950s, and helps us to understand better the radical potential of postwar America. iv Dedication To my mother, who gave me my love of dance— And in memory of my father, who gave me my love of song v Acknowledgements In the summer of 2004, as a newly minted Ph.D. Candidate, I sat in the reading room of the Howard Gotlieb Archival Research Center at Boston University on my first major research trip. I was gingerly sifting through the personal papers of Gene Kelly, uncertain of what I was looking for. I noticed a sweet-looking older woman sitting at a nearby table. She had just flown into town from Europe, and would only be in Boston for a few hours, en route to see her daughter in the mid-West. She had chosen to spend her limited time in the archive, filling in some gaps in whatever research she was conducting. She kept glancing my way, until finally she approached. The pile of boxes labeled “Gene Kelly Collection” had caught her eye, and she wanted to know what I was researching. After I explained that I was working on my dissertation, she paused, and with a half-smile told me, “You know, I was his first wife.” I was stunned to be face-to-face with Betsy Blair. Regrettably, I was far too shy and nervous to hold a meaningful conversation with her. By the time I had built up enough courage, she was long gone, probably already nestled in an airplane seat flying somewhere over the Great Lakes. Though we never really spoke, the encounter remains as vivid today as I complete my dissertation as it was when I was only just starting. It is one of the many moments I experienced over the last three years when things clicked, connections suddenly became visible, and everything seemed to fall into place. True, the process of researching and writing has been far from smooth. There were times when I could not face getting out of vi bed to work on this project. But throughout, I have returned to these satisfactory moments, which have buoyed my spirits and inspired me to keep pushing forward. This dissertation would not have been possible without the support of countless individuals and institutions. The financial assistance provided from UNC’s Graduate Student Opportunity Fund and the UNC History Department’s Mowry Dissertation Research Grant made my trips to Boston, New York, and Los Angeles possible, while the Doris G. Quinn Dissertation Completion Fellowship ensured my timely finish. Sean Noel, Assistant Director for Public Service at the Gotlieb Center in Boston, always had a smile for me when I arrived each morning. Boston Archivist Maria Morelli proved invaluable in uncovering sources I did not even realize existed. In Los Angeles, Barbara Hall and the countless other assistants at the Margaret Herrick Library of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences expertly guided me in my search for material. And at the Cinema-Television Library at the University of Southern California, Ned Comstock once again proved indispensable. He has followed my progress since I began working on postwar musicals during my first year of graduate school. He has patiently answered my questions, sifted through dusty material, and mailed me vital documents I somehow managed to misplace. Without his knowledge and support I could never have completed this project. I am equally grateful to my colleagues at UNC and Duke University, who have been an ideal sounding board over the years. I have consistently received thoughtful and constructive feedback, most notably when I have given talks for the Working Group in Feminism and History, the UNC Music In Context Group, and the UNC History Department Research Colloquium. Likewise, the University of North Carolina at Greensboro’s “Creative Action: Gender and Arts” Conference was an excellent testing ground for my third chapter. vii But beyond these formal academic avenues, I have enjoyed countless conversations with peers and professors about my work. I have never ceased to be impressed by the outpouring of support my department has offered for a topic that many in the field might consider to be on the fringe. I am especially thankful to Bobby Allen and Jerma Jackson, who have devoted significant time to productive brainstorming sessions. I have thoroughly enjoyed my many conversations about musicals and Broadway shows with John Kasson. I have always left his office feeling rejuvenated, ready to plunge once more into my work. And Charlene Register in African and Afro-American Studies gave up her time and her files to aid in my writing of Chapter Five. Without her assistance, I would still be adrift. My two writing groups have provided me with critical feedback over the years. My “ladies group”—Nancy Schoonmaker, Tomoko Yagyu, Katie Otis, Kim Hill, and Montgomery Wolf—has kept me on-track and in good spirits since the Spring of 2005, while Patrick O’Neil, Greg Kaliss, and Maren Wood have in more recent months offered me with insightful feedback on my final chapters. I am particularly grateful to Laura Micheletti Puaca, my partner in crime since our days at Douglass. She has not only been the ideal writing partner over the years, she has been an immense source of commiseration and support. Her undying confidence has constantly inspired and encouraged me. I am, of course, eternally grateful to my advisor, Peter G. Filene, who has been an unwavering source of guidance in all matters of my graduate education. He has kept me focused, and has constantly helped to renew my faith in my ability to complete my dissertation. Most importantly, he made sure that I did not lose my way over the years. He taught me to always remember what it was that drew me to this topic, and instructed me in viii how to maintain (or rekindle) my love not just for this project but for 1950s musicals in general. And, he gently nudged me over the finish line. Finally, I could never have completed Dancing Dreams without the loving support of my closest friends. I cherish the long conversations—over Los Pos margaritas or over the phone—with Barb, who always believed in me. Her Velvet Elvis hangs over my desk, where I gaze at it daily and am reminded of how far I have come, and how much more I will accomplish. Rose’s countless words of wisdom, kitschy little gifts, and frequent trips back always boosted my morale. Her generosity in sharing Yama, as much as her goofy messages, have kept me invigorated over the years. And though Harveen is in a different world many miles away, she has always been there for me, cheering me up when necessary. Her patience and understanding, as well as her cherished visits to North Carolina, nearly made up for the distance between us. There are so many others, too many to name here, who have listened to me rant, given me a shoulder on which to cry, or just provided me with necessary distractions. Lastly to Big O, who has managed to keep me grounded. During the hardest phase of this dissertation, you have made sure I am smiling and in good spirits. It is as if our lives are a musical—time has ceased to matter and music is everywhere around us. ix Table of Contents List of Abbreviations...............................................................................................................xii Introduction: “I’ll make a plot with song and dance and music”: The Hollywood Musical Re-imagined 1 Hollywood at the Dawn of the Cold War 10 The Golden Age of the Musical 17 Dancing Dreams: The Postwar Musical as Historical Artifact 25 Chapter I.