I was seven years old when I fell hopelessly in love for the first time. If everyone has that enchanted, impossible first love, mine was him.
I happened to walk past the living room while the TV was on. It was an afternoon movie. There, in the middle of exotic scenery, was a dark-haired man wearing a green shirt, singing “Go home… go home… go home with Bonnie Jean… go home…”.
No exaggeration. I froze. Completely mesmerized. The film was Brigadoon and by the time it ended, I was hopelessly in love with Gene Kelly.
Admiring an artist usually means admiring the work, not necessarily the person behind it. With Gene, it was different. Everything about him fascinated me. Mysteriously so. I wanted to know more, discover other films, watch them again and again.
But life was still offline back then, and the only option was to wait patiently, hoping Gene would reappear somewhere in late-night television programming, and maybe, if luck helped, record it on VHS.
Over time, Gene Kelly became one of those private lifelong fascinations we quietly carry with us. He was a portal. A secret passage into a surreal universe where people expressed feelings by tap dancing and somehow turned conversations into songs. Even in the rain.
More than once, during my teenage years, I happily traded a Saturday night out for On the Town or Anchors Aweigh.
Then one day, the world went online.
Suddenly I could find the films, TV appearances, radio interviews, websites, everything. Gene became so accessible that I assumed some of the magic would disappear.
It didn’t. Watching his films still requires emotional caution. I know I’ll be pulled back into that world. I know the feeling will hit too hard. I also know it’s a lost world, much like Brigadoon itself. But I still like escaping there whenever the twenty-first century becomes unbearable.
So I’ll leave here one of my favorite scenes, from It´s Always Fair Weather (1955), a film I deeply love. The screenplay is sharp, unusual, slightly cynical, and refreshingly free of a happy ending, which probably explains why audiences didn’t appreciate it back then.
But one scene remained unforgettable. Gene on roller skates, performing a brilliant choreography while singing the beautiful I Like Myself.
And honestly… who doesn’t, Gene?
