I love musicals. I credit musicals with my interest in music, because the songs must have audience appeal. That means chord changes, bridges, and hooks. When you think of the great musicals, you think of the songs. My Fair Lady: “I Could Have Danced All Night.” Carousel: “June Is Bustin’ Out All Over.” Singin’ in the Rain: “Good Morning.” Gigi: “Thank Heaven For Little Girls.” And the greatest musical of all, The Band Wagon: “That’s Entertainment.” Musicals peaked in the fifties and sixties. The nation was younger, more hopeful and more naive in those days, and musicals were for everybody.
Throughout the Great Depression, movie studios understood their primary job was to entertain. People didn’t go to the theater to be lectured or wallow in misery, although, God knows, there were plenty of movies that did that. Lost Weekend. The Grapes of Wrath. High Sierra.
Musicals have fallen out of favor, but never completely. In the seventies, we had Hair, God Spell, A Chorus Line, GiGi, Saturday Night Fever and Evita. In the eighties we had Little Shop of Horrors, The Best Little Whorehouse, Grease, Fame, and A Chorus Line. In the nineties we had The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, and Hugh Jackman’s Oklahoma. In fact, Hugh Jackman is a one-man musical revival, having starred in Les Mis and The Greatest Showman as well.
More recently, we have La La Land, The Greatest Showman, Mama Mia, and Pitch Perfect. The modern musical abandons the artifice of ordinary people bursting into song, putting the story in a musical context. A struggling band or singer. I miss the old days when ordinary people burst into song, but I’ll take what I can get. Britain produces some of the best. The Commitments. Hear My Song. Sing Street. If you haven’t seen these, I urge you to check them out. They will send you out of the home theater singing.