Not How It Seems: ‘The Music Man’
Nothing is totally good or totally bad. This goes for people and movies. In this case, it goes for movie-musicals, too. By that I mean I’m about to defend yet another dated film, by explaining that it had some negative and positive attributes as far as feminism is concerned. And that film?
The Music Man (1962)
Morton DaCosta, the man who directed the stage show of 
The Music Man was afforded the rare opportunity to direct and produce the film version of this small-town story, written by Meredith Wilson. The story is very small-town, the cast riddled with average-looking people and singers that have leaks in the buckets they carry tunes in. And with the authentic provincial feel comes all the trimmings of early 1900s communities. The plot is littered with gossip, prejudice, small-mindedness, etc. That brings us, of course, to the film’s representation of women.
Marian is a hopeless romantic. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t want to settle for just any old River-City Iowan that comes along. She’s romanticized romance many a time. She’s not romantically experienced, but she isn’t blind to the ways of men. The town gossips about her because she’s in her mid-30s and unmarried and because the wealthy old man who used to own half the town left her the books in the library to ensure that she’d always have a job and security for her mother and brother. They complain about the “dirty books” she has at the library because they aren’t smart enough to understand them. It’s an interesting double standard they’ve set for her, really — judging her both for being unmarried at her age and trying to paint her as a scarlet lady (much like the Madonna/whore double standards set for women across the word). She’s smarter than anyone else in town, and it’s clear that she’s even more intelligent than the snake-tongued Harold Hill.
Harold Hill is pathological liar and con man. His arrogance is presented from the fore, and his intentions to make the unmarried piano teacher his summer tart are also clear. In his attempts to woo Miss Marian, he exhibits some very creepy actions. He is persistent in asking her out, ignoring her protestations (no means no, Harold). He follows her home, follows her to work, and refuses to leave her alone. In the “Marian the Librarian” musical number, he gets her in such an agitated state, she accidentally hits someone else and seems ready to collapse by the end of the number. On the surface, he’s incredibly annoying, but when you look at it with a feminist filter, it’s downright disgusting (shoving a marshmallow in her mouth and forcing a kiss on the cheek from her? I mean, come on!).
But on the plus side, this number doesn’t magically win Marian over. In fact, had this number been used to actually sway her, my work here would be impossible. It doesn’t change her mind about Harold Hill, because that’s not the kind of girl Marian is, even if Harold thinks she is at first. In fact, not long after the number, Marian is ready to turn Harold over to Mayor Shinn as a liar. What changes her mind is seeing Harold finally get through to her brother Winthrop, who’s been mostly silent since their father died, and seeing the town so excited about the band he’s promised to create. She knows he’s a liar, but she also knows that his spellbinding lies are having a positive impact on her cultureless hometown. And Winthrop, who was always embarrassed about his lisp, is talking as though it doesn’t even matter any more.
These are the reasons Marian decides to give audience to the persistent Harold Hill, though she knows he’s dishonest about his origins and education. She learns from a conversation with him at the soda counter that Harold is no genius, but that he has some strange ideas that she, as a trained musician, sees potential in. At the end of the movie, we learn that the think system does work, so even though Harold didn’t think there was really anything to it, Marian’s faith was not misplaced when she spouted off her support of it. And so, when Harold politely requests a date, she accepts. Her attitude toward him changes, but his behavior toward her did as well.
Then, we have the big reveal from travelling anvil salesman Charlie Cowell that Harold has had a girl in every city he visits, that Marian is surely the next in a long line, that Harold preys on these women to keep himself safe and entertained. Apart from being less charming and more creepy then Harold, Charlie is condescending. He thinks Marian is a sucker for Harold, but she plays Charlie enough to make him miss his train. By using her brain and her womanly charms, she’s able to get what she wants from the situation. The flaws in Harold that Charlie informed her of are surely true enough, but Harold finds himself in a rare situation in which someone is aware of all of this, and it makes him reflect. She doesn’t stop there. Her confession of how he’s changed her life makes him ready to spill the beans about his whole operation. She tells him she knows he’s a liar before he even gets the chance though. And then comes the musical reveal of the impact these two have had on each other.
Such a clever bit of direction and acting. In this scene, the attentive viewer can see the shift, in which Harold has given Marian the confidence that he had and Marian has taught Harold the meaning of romance, the delicacy of love. Harold knows for sure by this scene that he’s stuck, not in a negative way, but in the sense that he doesn’t want to run anymore.
Charlie turns the town against Harold. All those close to Harold warn him to run, yet he doesn’t even budge. He’s going to see this one through to the end. And he does.
The takeaway is that Harold was changed by Marian because she was smart and caring and three-dimensional. She couldn’t be reduced to “virginal maiden” or “trollop,” much like women in general can’t really. Perhaps that’s part of the point. Marian is undoubtedly a feminist, with such gems as: “A girl’s future doesn’t depend on encouraging every fast-talking, self-centered, woman-chasing travelling man who comes to town.” It’s 1912, but she does exactly what she chooses to do in the men department, deciding to let Harold in when he has proven to be a good guy in actions unrelated to her and holding her own with him intellectually. As a master manipulator and con artist, he’s not an idiot. Therefore, I don’t think this story’s representation of Marian is sexist. I think it’s incredibly progressive for 1912 in which it’s set, 1957 in which the play was written, and 1962 when the film was created.
Just some icing on the cake: I think Mayor Shinn is a symbol of traditional values. He treats his wife and daughters as his property. He’s a bumbling idiot, always saying the wrong thing, yet he commands Mrs. Shinn and tries to control his teenage daughter. Anyone can see he isn’t really fit to lead a town or decide what his wife and daughter do and say, yet he does. In the end, though, even Mrs. Shinn defies him in her defense of what Harold has done for the town.
Maybe I’m crazy in saying this, but I think that‘s the point of the movie. Don’t do what society tells you to do. Don’t feel pressured to marry at a certain time or to date a certain person. Find the music inside of you and do what you will with it.
“Not How It Seems” attempts to support the argument that favorite movie musicals aren’t really the dated anti-feminist films some people perceive them to be.
-
Zarm