There was a mention of “positive racism… which is still racism” in class yesterday. One of the most complicated examples of that is Fred Astaire’s tribute to dancer Bill Robinson in the “Bojangles of Harlem” number in the film Swing Time (1936). The entire musical sequence is supposed to be a show of love for Robinson but everything about the scene is rooted in caricatures, seen most egregiously when Astaire appears onstage in blackface and wearing clothes intended to evoke Harlem. Alastair Macaulay wrote about the number in the New York Times a few years back and, in judging form versus content, described the footwork as “rhythmically imaginative.” This is certainly true in the second half of the scene, which involves shadows projected onto the wall behind Astaire. But how can anyone, even a great fan of Astaire as a performer, feel comfortable watching him perform black identity? He is black only for as long as the number lasts, and afterwards he can wash the makeup off, removing the mask – his masquerade – of blackness. Swing Time is considered one of Astaire’s finest films; as a child who grew up with a sizable collection of 1930s-60s musicals on VHS, I have been familiar with (and a fan of) Swing Time for almost my entire life and I always loved it for the inoffensive songs and dances (“Pick Yourself Up,” “The Way You Look Tonight,” “A Fine Romance,” the intimate two-person spectacle of “Never Gonna Dance”). It wasn’t until I was older that I realized how problematic “Bojangles of Harlem” was and still is.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4UUkui545I
The “Bojangles” problem also makes me think more critically about “Shine on Your Shoes” in The Band Wagon (1953), in which Astaire shares the dance space with Leroy Daniels, who got the role because he actually was a shoe shiner in real life. Daniels’ character can only be present in the space because he is performing a service for a white character. Not only that, Daniels has to do what was so often asked of black film characters: he has to act pleased to serve Astaire. (By the end of the scene Daniels is thoroughly delighted to have the opportunity to brush the dust off Astaire’s clothes.) Daniels was not even billed onscreen for his efforts, identifiable only as “Arcade Shoeshine Man” among the film’s list of uncredited characters and bit parts on the IMDb. MGM lets him be Astaire’s onscreen partner, but at the same time those Powers That Be deny Daniels an equal amount of credit for his contribution to the number.
I think that you articulate an interesting dilemma that is faced by many scholars and performers that look towards the past. America’s entire history, let alone film history, is rife with artifacts that are racist and/or sexist and yet are still important to our evolution. Should we reject these racist and/or sexist films just because they are offensive to our modern eyes? Of course not. As you mentioned, you love Swing Time and you love Fred Astaire. You don’t love him any less because he danced a dance in black face. And yet you see it as wrong. How do we talk about things that are offensive and yet somehow still pleasurable? How do we create a dialogue that calls out the offensiveness of the artifact while still imparting its importance within the space of history? I think that a lot of scholars choose one strategy or the other. Either they point out the racism/sexism of the piece and focus exclusively on that or they choose to ignore it entirely and focus on the structural or thematic innovations within the piece. What you did here acknowledging the racism while also confessing your love for a movie is I think the ideal way of creating a dialogue with these pieces.