Pure American fluff. Tapestries ripe with whimsey and longing intertwine lost souls suffering from unrequited love and artistic impotence. The musical numbers show a penchant for fantastic displays of movement, yet each fades from memory because the story and characters lack any dynamism.
But Vincente Minnelli’s brilliant use of color transcends the material as reds and blues take on meaning far beyond their surface representations. Is there another classic director who appreciates the use of color in evoking emotional connections with characters as much as Minnelli? In An American In Paris, there are some curious and historically important reflexive moments sprinkled throughout the opening sequence, but by the end it’s hard to consider why this film is so beloved by certain critics. It’s entertaining, but completely fleeting and superficial.