After graduating from military school in 1914, Berkeley
found work in a shoe factory. Making shoes was not exactly what he had
in mind, so three years later he enlisted in the U.S. Army and went to France
during the First World War. While there,
he conducted military drills. Not happy
with the same old routines, Berkeley designed new ones. He taught 1200 men a ‘trick’ drill explaining
each movement by numbers. His method
allowed the drill to be completed in silence.
It was an amazing sight to see such a large number of soldiers marching
in patterns without hearing any orders.
It was also the beginning of Berkeley’s magic.
After completing his military service, he brought his skills
to Broadway and by 1928, he was the hottest dance director in New York. Hollywood took note. Filmmaker Sam Goldwyn hired Berkeley to direct
production numbers in the movie version of Ziegfeld’s Whoopee (1930). He found the
work challenging so he stayed on with Goldwyn for two more years as a dance
director, but it was after moving to Warner Bros. in 1933 where he made movie
history.
42nd Street
(1933) was a festival of music and Berkeley’s first major Hollywood
triumph. He dared to be different using
dozens of women to form complex geometric patterns as he moved the camera
itself, allowing the audience to view the action from all sorts of angles. 42nd
Street was followed by Gold Diggers
of 1933 (1933) and Footlight Parade
(1933). The dazzling costumes and showy
sets created a unique imagery new to filmgoers.
Berkeley spent up to $10,000 (about $175,000 today) for each
minute of his flamboyant production numbers with Warner Bros. footing the
bill. He had a monorail built for
overhead tracking shots. He used cranes,
hoists and aerial platforms. He even cut
holes in the roofs of the sound stages in order to achieve the necessary height
for his kaleidoscope-like shots. In the
midst of all this equipment, he never used more than one camera. While filming Cain and Mabel (1936) with Clark Gable and Marion Davis, Berkeley
outdid himself. He cut the sound stage
off at its base and raised it with enormous jacks, enabling him to film one of
the dance numbers exactly as he envisioned it.
Davies’ lover, William Randolph Hearst, picked up the $100,000 tab without
so much as a blink.
Springing from the Great Depression, Busby Berkeley musicals
brought joy and hope to despairing Americans.
Even today, one of his productions can still make toes tap and lips
smile. Oh, and did I ever tell you where
he got that name? He was named after
actress Amy Busby, a member of the Tim Frawley Repertory Company where his
parents worked. It turned out to be an appropriate
name for a one-of-a-kind showman who got his best ideas relaxing in the bathtub
with martinis.
That's true - he DID only use one camera! I never really thought about that before.
ReplyDeleteAnd no dance lessons? Remarkable.
A remarkable kind of guy!
ReplyDelete