A Dance Card To Die For

Gene was a popular character. He didn’t dance in salons. He didn’t wear tails. He never even wore a tie. That just wasn’t him. He invented dancing in T shirts and workman’s clothes. In between films, he wouldn’t practice. He would just live, then he would gain weight, and then he would have to get back into training and work very hard.

I first met Fred on the set of “Daddy Long Legs.” I was maybe 23 then, and I was immediately charmed. He was perhaps the most polite American I have ever met. I consider him the dancing genius of our time. His grace, his good taste, his warm personality and tact were evident when he danced. He also had the luck of having an incredible, unique physical build. He was fast, nervous, light and had perfect balance, perfect rhythm and enormous hands. That enormous hand on your back guided you, with a finger giving you a lot of orders, like the fingers on a piano. You had to hear the play of the fingers on your back.

One day, Fred was supposed to film the passage in “Daddy Long Legs” where he has just walked me back to the hotel after our first night out, and he’s so elated, he jumps on a [luggage] trolley, zooms on it all the way to the lift, does one turn, the doors open and there is a fat lady who is horrified to see this middle-aged man playing like a kid. They had reserved the whole day but Fred did it in one take. So the first assistant came to me and said, “Quick, Leslie, get yourself ready. We’re going to shoot.” I said “What?” And he told me the montage number where Fred takes me to all the night clubs. I said, “I never was taught it.” And he said, “Oh, Fred says it’s OK.” I turned up around 11 and Fred led me through it, from the two-step to the samba to the mambo to the waltz, with ease. He was firm and very directive with that powerful hand. He was quite funny about his hands. He told me, ‘This is why I never became a classical dancer–I would look stupid in tights with those hands.’ He used to keep the two central fingers together, so his hands wouldn’t look too wide.

Dancing in itself wasn’t profoundly fun for Gene, like it was for Fred Astaire. Gene was more interested in production, direction and in drama per se. For Fred, there was a thrill of dancing. There is one number–“Sluefoot”–where you can see Fred is really having a ball. You can see on his face the real relish of dancing.

title: “A Dance Card To Die For” ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-28” author: “Tami Nieves”

Gene was a popular character. He didn’t dance in salons. He didn’t wear tails. He never even wore a tie. That just wasn’t him. He invented dancing in T shirts and workman’s clothes. In between films, he wouldn’t practice. He would just live, then he would gain weight, and then he would have to get back into training and work very hard.

I first met Fred on the set of “Daddy Long Legs.” I was maybe 23 then, and I was immediately charmed. He was perhaps the most polite American I have ever met. I consider him the dancing genius of our time. His grace, his good taste, his warm personality and tact were evident when he danced. He also had the luck of having an incredible, unique physical build. He was fast, nervous, light and had perfect balance, perfect rhythm and enormous hands. That enormous hand on your back guided you, with a finger giving you a lot of orders, like the fingers on a piano. You had to hear the play of the fingers on your back.

One day, Fred was supposed to film the passage in “Daddy Long Legs” where he has just walked me back to the hotel after our first night out, and he’s so elated, he jumps on a [luggage] trolley, zooms on it all the way to the lift, does one turn, the doors open and there is a fat lady who is horrified to see this middle-aged man playing like a kid. They had reserved the whole day but Fred did it in one take. So the first assistant came to me and said, “Quick, Leslie, get yourself ready. We’re going to shoot.” I said “What?” And he told me the montage number where Fred takes me to all the night clubs. I said, “I never was taught it.” And he said, “Oh, Fred says it’s OK.” I turned up around 11 and Fred led me through it, from the two-step to the samba to the mambo to the waltz, with ease. He was firm and very directive with that powerful hand. He was quite funny about his hands. He told me, ‘This is why I never became a classical dancer–I would look stupid in tights with those hands.’ He used to keep the two central fingers together, so his hands wouldn’t look too wide.

Dancing in itself wasn’t profoundly fun for Gene, like it was for Fred Astaire. Gene was more interested in production, direction and in drama per se. For Fred, there was a thrill of dancing. There is one number–“Sluefoot”–where you can see Fred is really having a ball. You can see on his face the real relish of dancing.