An American in Paris

I saw An American in Paris this weekend and was wowed by the music, the dancing, and the incredible stage effects, but the story itself clanged in a way that might not have been the case even a year or two ago, prior to the current social upheaval surrounding how women have been  treated in our culture.  In the story an American GI named Jerry falls for a local French girl who is already engaged.  He is head over heals “in love” with her.  He has two friends, Adam and Henry, one of whom is also smitten with the girl and the other who is French and happens to be the girl’s fiancé unbeknownst to the other two.

So, the “American in Paris” (Jerry) starts trying to woo her away from this unknown fiancé by pressuring her to secretly meet him every day near the Seine River just as “friends.”  But instead, he uses the time to try and hound her into becoming involved with him romantically.  He shows little regard for her feelings, obligations, or cultural context even insisting that he be able to call her by the name he finds most comfortable.  “Your name is Lise?  I’ll call you Eliza.  No, Liza!”  She firmly rejects this attempt to americanize her name though he obnoxiously persists.  He doesn’t care.  He’s in love!  

At some point when Jerry learns that Henry is Lise’s fiancé he secretly arranges a scenario that is guaranteed to humiliate his friend and put a barrier between Henry, his parents, and Lise.  That is to say he continues to show how shallow, self-centered, and insensitive he is and how incapable he is of a love that is true as opposed to “true love” as he imagines it to be in his fevered romantic imagination and spiritual myopia.  As Adam astutely points out, “You don’t even really know anything about her.”  

But then (inexplicably) Lise finds some cathartic release in dancing a ballet performance created for her with the help of these three men and afterwards she excitedly tells Jerry she danced so well because she imagined him as the lead male dancer (the scene is one of poetic license where Jerry is actually dancing with her but dressed in black to signify it is her imagining him, but not really him).  They embrace and when he calls her “Lise” she exuberantly exclaims, “Call me Liza!”  

What?!  Are you kidding me?  I think this musical would be more accurately entitled “The Ugly American,” but did I mention how much I enjoyed the music, dancing, and amazing stage designs?

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