Born to Dance

1936

Okay, sure. There are a jillion movies like this. Movies with a plot about a plucky and talented young thing trying to break into show business—specifically, trying to get into a Broadway show, and getting the One Big Break she needs just in time for the finale. Eleanor Powell made a career out of them. But you might not realize what everyone in 1936 knew: the plot didn’t matter.

What matters is the music. What matters is the songs. What matters (a little) is the romance, and when we’re talking about Eleanor Powell, what matters most is the dancing. Because—you may get this from the title—that woman was born to dance.

And in the case of this movie, that woman is dancing to Cole Porter songs, and the love interest is Jimmy Stewart. So this is one to watch, my friends. 

Eleanor comes to town and for no apparent reason is befriended by the delightful Una Merkle. In the world-building of a 1930s musical, girls who run the desks of hotels and sailors who are in town on shore leave all have talent and are just one number away from starring in the latest hit show. And why not? This is America, after all! Three cheers for the red, white, and blue! (Wait—we don’t get to sing that until the extravaganza of a finale.)

Anyway, the three sailors are a short guy from Brooklyn, a tall guy from the hay fields of the heartland, and Jimmy Stewart, looking young and wistful and, as described by a lovesick telephone operator, “A tall sort of answer to a maiden’s prayer, on stilts.”

Everybody gets to dance. The tall hayseed you may recognize. He’s Buddy Ebsen (Yep, from “The Beverly Hillbillies”) and he has a lanky, awkward, comic style of dancing that (and this is just my opinion, but why else are you reading this?) is a tad overdone in this film. But he gets to gambol, and there’s a fun number with our six leads singing about being nuts about each other that’s just a breezy delight.

All this leads to Eleanor and Jimmy walking through a moonlit park, and Cole Porter helps them out with “Easy to Love.” Which is a love song for the ages, but the whole interlude is a somewhat misbegotten attempt to have Jimmy croon and Eleanor waft gracefully. She was God’s Own tap dancer, but wafting was never her thing. Luckily they’re interrupted by a park cop before things can get too uncomfortable.

Hollywood was trying hard to figure out what to do with Jimmy Stewart in 1936. He released nine films that year. I think they had him try a little bit of everything to see what would stick. Now, I love me some Jimmy Stewart, but I think we can all agree it was for the best that his musical career never really took off.

Back to Eleanor. The number in the park is one of very few I can think of in her movie career where she actually danced with someone. And even in this case, they were sort of in the same place at the same time, but not dancing together together. There was none of that Fred and Ginger stuff. And that was typical for her. Eleanor most often danced without a partner.

And when I say danced, I mean she tore up the freaking stage. The way she could tap! She found rhythms where there were no rhythms. She hit that stage and she owned it. Even if you don’t watch this whole movie, do yourself a favor and look up the finale online somewhere. Your jaw will drop at her strength, at the athleticism and the speed and the unbelievable life she brings to a ridiculously overblown shipboard spectacular.

You may not notice the sequined and spangled sailors in the chorus. You may not see the gigantic guns on the ship behind her (although it’s fun to wonder if Cher saw this number before filming the “Turn Back Time” video). You may not register that there’s a full marching band on the ship. Because Eleanor’s dancing is bigger than all of that.

She had this thing where she’d bring her shoulders up and open her mouth as if she just couldn’t contain all the joy that her dancing was giving her. She’s not trying to be pretty or feminine or romantic. She doesn’t appear to be trying at all. She’s just dancing like she was born to.

I’ve learned a lot watching Eleanor Powell movies. A lot about finding my own rhythm. A lot about staying plucky and trusting that I’ll get my One Big Break in time for the finale. But I think there’s something more to learn. Something about how she danced. It wasn’t as if no one was watching. No self-help adages for her. She knew everyone was watching. They had no choice. She demanded them to watch, she demanded them to marvel, because she was up there on that stage and she was doing something extraordinary. 

I want to be more like Eleanor Powell. She danced unpartnered. And she danced with joy.