An American in Paris

In 2015, when I saw the Broadway show based on this movie, I came away thinking it was tedious, convoluted, and a little rapey.  In 1952, I suppose it was common, though still unacceptable, for an adult man to chase a 19 year old girl around like a fawn, corner her, and badger her until she agreed to a date.  Perhaps then it didn't set off any alarm bells, and maybe was even perceived as romantic.  Perhaps it was normal for a wealthy woman to do the same to that man, using financial instead of social pressure.  Serious scrutiny in power imbalances in relationships is rather a modern development, after all.  The composer and his muse, the savior and his ward, the artist and his prey, the patron and her protege, every relationship in the musical was a study in harassment and coercion.  Gross.

As tedious and convoluted as the musical was, at least the movie was not those things.  But it was still a study in the relationships of horrible people.  A suitable alternate title might be "A Fuckboi Gets a Taste of His Own Medicine".  It was art, no doubt.  The score, cinematography, performances (although Leslie Caron visibly struggles to hold her own in the longer sequences), choreography, all top notch.  And in a movie from 1952, it's natural to see the unpleasant social practices of that decade reflected under the glamour.  But of all the changes that were made for the musical, why preserve the one element that aged poorly, and falls on modern tastes like spoiled milk?