In its narrative line, the script was more complex than most backstagers. First, it has a fairy-tale foundation. The kernel of its story is basically a variant on that of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid, plus a trick and counter-trick, and coupled with a typical romance plot consisting of a series of real and threatened separations and reunions between a couple. The heroine has her voice taken from her by a wicked witch and cannot marry the hero unless it has been recovered. At the end, like Cinderella, she is transfigured into a fairy-tale princess (a star), so that she can marry her prince. In fact, Singin’ in the Rain combines all three sub-genres of the musical noted by Rick Altman in his magisterial analysis of the genre: the Show Musical, the Fairy-Tale Musical, and the Folk Musical. As he put it, ‘The show musical involves the spectator in the creation of a work of art; the fairy tale musical creates a utopian world like that of the spectator’s dreams; the folk musical projects the spectator into a mythicised version of the cultural past.’ In other words, Hollywood functions as a place for creating a show, as a magic kingdom, and as a site of Americana, coloured by ‘the transforming power of memory’. Similarly, the film combines in one the three typical locations of these sub-genres: the studio as backstage, culminating in a triumphant mastery of both art and technology; the studio as distant goal and imaginary dream-world, culminating in a successful romance and a joyous partnership; and the studio as happy family, threatened by disruption but finally coming together in an exclusive and closely bonded unit.
