by Douglas
Messerli
Sonya Levien and William Ludwig (screenplay, based on the
stage musical by Oscar Hammerstein II Richard Rodgers), Fred Zinnemann (director)
Oklahoma! / 1955
These Oklahoma territory folks, moreover, although they may be fascinated by the sights, sounds and experiences of Will in Kansas City, and even eventually take up with the new dance steps Will brings back home, are clearly much happier down on the farm or out in the prairie wilds. And instead of being an astounding revelation of a new world, Will's wonderful song and dance, "Everything's Up to Date in Kansas City" for the locals is merely a comic revery.
The center of this great musical lies not in its hoe-down or in its ending affirmation, but in Laurey’s dream, a scene in which the “drugged” girl (to be fair it’s only smelling salts named “The Elixirs of Egypt”) attempts to see into the future. What she witnesses we could have easily predicted: in Agnes DeMille’s stunning dances the cowboys and farm girls serve up a celebration of Americana with particular emphasis on DeMille’s hands-to-hips to outstretched gestures of community, prayer, and, ultimately church steeple. But, in some ways, this part of the dance is purely gestural. Even the cowboys’ oval-legged step into hoe-down, suggesting obviously their more common placement on the rump of their horses, seems a bit wooden—despite occasional exuberance, pattern and propriety dominate. Of much more interest to me—particularly when I first saw the film as a child and despite what I recognized even then as kitschy sets—were the long-legged contortions of the bar-room molls controlled by the dancing Jud. Their final fling into a French can-can was far more exciting, even if a bit horrifying. And Laurey’s terror at not being able to escape so powerful a force is quite justified. She’s an innocent, totally unable to assimilate Jud’s pent-up passion and lust. Even as she accepts his company on route to the social event, it is inevitable that she must flee his presence like the serpent Curley has compared him to. He, in turn, just as inevitably seeks other remedies in the form of “the little wonder,” a mechanical device that, while revealing pictures of naked women, releases a knife that slits the throat of its viewer.
Meanwhile, back
on the ranch, or should we say farm, a range war is brewing. Even as they
dance, it is clear that it is difficult for the farmer and the cowman to remain
friends. In truth, the battle was waged for decades throughout Texas and
Oklahoma; in the film it merely takes Aunt Eller a bit of strong-arm cajoling
and a gun to return things to order. And so, too, does Aunt Eller save Curley
from viewing Jud’s dirty pictures.
Laurey is
restored to Curley’s arms, but the so-called friendly society treats him to a
somewhat sinister shivaree, which isolates them on a mountain of hay, the
perfect place for the immolation Jud has now planned. Fire breaks out. Curley’s
dive onto his nemesis accidentally implants Jud’s knife into his own chest.
The good folk of
the soon-to-be new state set up a hasty trial, but in their impatience to see
Curley and Laurey catch their train to happiness, they hurriedly—and without
due process—pronounce him innocent. Of course, he is innocent, but one wonders about such a society, with the violent
forces and raw feelings lying just below its surface. Perhaps that’s why
DeMille’s depiction of the community in dance appears so gestural, so
procedural. Only a strong anthem can drive away the elemental rhythms of a
can-can.
Ristorante Galessi, Piazza S. Maria in the Trastevere,
October 18, 2003
Reprinted in My Year 2005:
State of Uncertainty (Los Angeles: Green Inger, 2013)
I recently saw the film production
of Oklahoma! again on The Movie
Channel on television, and found the work almost as refreshing and entertaining
as the first time saw it as a child. As I told Howard, I'm still convinced
that, along with West Side Story, the nearly impossible Finian's
Rainbow, and Guys and Dolls, it is one of the great American
musicals.
In fact, there are hardly any normal family units in this popular family
entertainment. Ado Annie apparently lives alone with her father, who, as I
mentioned above, is only too ready to have his daughter taken off his hands.
Most of the males in this work, unmarried cowboys, work for rancher Andrew
Carnes, who also seems to live without a wife, with no children in sight. The
beautiful women of the chorus, all quite desperate for husbands, seem to have
had no success. This 1955 film, most importantly, presents a world entirely
without young children—unless you count the two youngest dancers as kids; to me
they seem more like young adults. It is as if the small town of Claremont and
environs has been emptied of normal families. Why, one can only wonder, are
they attempting to raise money for a schoolhouse? If there was ever example of
"voices without a voice," Oklahoma! represents it. For the
family values it espouses seem to have little effect upon the figures we
encounter.
Finally, I would suggest that Curley and Laurey—now that handyman Jud
Frye is dead—cut that honeymoon trip short and return immediately to pick and
shuck that corn "as high as an elephant's eye" if Aunt Eller and her
farm is to survive.
Los Angeles, March 4, 2009
The two parts of this essay were
reprinted from Green Integer Blog (April 2009).
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