In the ballet dream sequence in Singin’ in the Rain, two of America’s best dancers at the time, Cyd Charisse and Gene Kelly, romance each other on a set that looks like a Georgia O’Keeffe work. It is painted in a way that makes it seem endless, like a desert horizon. Everything—the earth, the sky, the landscape—is in lavenders and blushing pinks.
Kelly wears sleek black. Charisse wears all white. She is trailed by an enormous cape that is nearly as long as the stage. Massive off-screen fans whip the cape so it billows behind Charisse for what feels like miles. It is a simple but jaw-dropping trick. The whiteness of the sheet seems to scorch the scenery.
The ballet is less than three minutes long, and it demonstrates the full potential of a piece of fabric. Emotionally, the cape expresses everything that’s between Kelly and Charisse’s characters (longing, attraction, hesitancy). Technically, it functions as a part of the scenery (the wind, the expansiveness) and as a prop (a blanket around Charisse while Kelly holds her). It is also, literally, just a cape.
