Classic musical frequently overlong and under-plotted with fun moments but dwarfed by later films

Director: George Sidney

Cast: Frank Sinatra (Clarence Doolittle), Kathryn Grayson (Susan Abbott), Gene Kelly (Joe Brady), José Iturbi (Himself), Dean Stockwell (Donald Martin), Pamela Britton (Brooklyn), “Rags” Ragland (Police sergeant), Bill Gilbert (Café manager), Henry O’Neill (Admiral Hammond)

US Navy sailors Clarence (Frank Sinatra) and Joe (Gene Kelly) win medals and shore leave all on the same day, and head to the streets of Hollywood looking for a good time. But, Cyrano-like, Joe finds himself helping Clarence court would-be Hollywood actress Susan Abbott (Kathryn Grayson), whom he secretly wouldn’t mind whispering sweet nothings to himself. Just as well the naïve, never-been-kissed Clarence finds an instant spark with café waitress Brooklyn (Pamela Britton). But can the boys deliver to Susan the audition they’ve promised with esteemed MGM musical director José Iturbi (playing himself)? And can true love find a way through?

It certainly can, but it takes a very, very long time for it to do so. Anchors Aweigh was a big hit, scooping several Oscar nominations (including Kelly’s only acting nomination). But today it feels like a self-indulgent pilot for far more successful (and considerably shorter) Freed musicals that followed. The concept of Sinatra and Kelly as shore leave sailors was recycled in On the Town while a peak behind Hollywood’s curtain was obviously used far more effectively in Singin’ in the Rain. Compared to these two, Anchors Aweigh feels bloated, massively over-staying its welcome while its incredibly flimsy plot is stretched out over two hours and twenty minutes (in that time you could watch most of both of its superior successors).

Anchors Aweigh is really a collection of short skits where the stars showcase what they do best: Kelly dances and Sinatra sings. Every so often they sing-and-dance together. The plot’s romantic shenanigans are solved easily and everyone ends with a beaming smile on their face. Instead, the film is almost exclusively remembered for its skits, most famously a very impressive fantasy sequence where Kelly dances with an animated Jerry (of Tom and Jerry fame). This five minutes or so of ingenious animation matched with Kelly’s charm and energy would make for a heck of a short film: which is what of course it really is, since it bears almost no connection with almost anything else in the film (Kelly is spinning a yarn about how he won his medal, suggesting he did it by teaching a lonely mouse king how to trip the light fantastic).

The finest points of this film are these sequences: but there are far too many of them, and many don’t match the same quality. On the positive side, we get some fine singing from Ol’ Blue Eyes, and Kelly and Sinatra dance two hugely enjoyable numbers together: We Hate to Leave where they tease their fellow sailors about all the great fun ahead for them on shore leave and I Begged Her a high-tempo number (which Sinatra took eight weeks to master) as the boys brag about all the wild-antics we know they didn’t actually get up to the night before. Kelly gets a showpiece paso-tinged tap dance themed around Zorro which provides the film’s most impressive athletic stunts. On the negative side, Iturbi is given the scope for too many classical concerto excepts which dramatically slows the action (such as it is) down.

Problem is there is no cement to hold these moments together. The central plot is so flimsy, slight and utterly unsurprising, so completely devoid of conflict or drama, it seems designed to lull you to sleep between the set pieces. It’s not helped by the general acting weakness of much of the cast. Sinatra at this time was a stunning singer and surprisingly competent dancer but a very mediocre actor – amusing as it is to see him play a timid virgin who can’t get a girl. Kathryn Grayson gives a solid but uninspired performance, hardly charismatic enough to make you believe both men would fall for her so swiftly. José Iturbi is wooden as himself. Pamela Britton is so low on charisma, you hardly notice the film doesn’t bother to give her character a name. In his first major role, Dean Stockwell actually shows promise, even if his character is the sort of melt-your-heart child many audiences secretly find nauseating.

The real star here is the third billed Kelly, who nails the persona that would carry him through many films: the charismatic, sometimes glib charmer with the knack for comedic facial reactions who hides hidden romantic depths under a smooth exterior. Kelly is the motor of the whole film, with just the right light comic touch to keep things going, not to mention throwing himself into the film’s most memorable sequences. Every scene showcases his ability to pull a parade of witty facial expressions from bemused to long suffering to sheepishly guilty to exasperated. He’s the finest thing in a mediocre film.

A mediocre film is what Anchors Aweigh is, assembled with the sort of bland competence that was George Sidney’s calling card (compare his work here to the imagination and energy that Stanley Donen bought to pretty much the same material). It’s chief amusement now is chuckling at how certain set-ups now come across: the completely innocent homoerotic undertones between Kelly and Sinatra (although the film winks at this, when Kelly’s attempt to teach Sinatra to woo a girl sees him drawing glances as he minces down the street imitating the girl-next-door); the fact that Kelly’s unseen girlfriend Lola really sounds like she might be a sex worker; the tone-deaf decision of the boys to discourage Susan’s older (and, to be fair, predatory) suitor by singing a song about how she is the equivalent of the town’s bike; how completely chill everyone is about letting two random sailors take a small boy home alone. To be honest giggling at how these particular mores have changed over time is more amusing than most of this otherwise over-long, under-plotted, thuddingly average film.