Shall We Dance (1937) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch

 

Shall We Dance (1937) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch 

American Film, Musical, Comedy

Venice Film Festival, 1937- Official Selection
Academy Awards, 1938- Nominee: Best Music, Original Song

When you look back at Hollywood’s Golden Age, few pairings shine brighter than Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. By 1937, they were already standard-bearers of the musical comedy, turning rhythm and romance into pure movie magic. But their seventh collaboration, the vibrant and witty Shall We Dance, brought something extra special to the screen—a seamless blending of highbrow art and lowbrow fun, set to an unforgettable score. More onWikipedia or Mubi 

When Ballet Met Tap: The Magic of Shall We Dance 

The story kicks off with a delightful pretense. Astaire plays Peter P. Peters, an American tap dancer masquerading as "Petrov," a temperamental Russian ballet star. Deep down, Peter is exhausted by the rigid world of classical dance and dreams of breaking free with modern jazz rhythms. Enter Linda Keene, played with trademark sharp humor and elegance by Ginger Rogers. Linda is a famous Broadway tap star who wants nothing more than to retire from show business.  

WATCH TRAILER 

When Peter sees a photograph of Linda, he falls hard. He plots to cross paths with her aboard a luxury ocean liner bound for New York, setting in motion a series of misunderstandings. Through a bizarre sequence of tabloids, fake photographs, and press rumors, the public becomes convinced that the two stars are secretly married. To put an end to the media circus, they decide on a wild screwball solution: get married for real, just so they can quickly get a quiet divorce. Naturally, real feelings get in the way. 

What truly elevates Shall We Dance into the pantheon of great musicals is its soundtrack, courtesy of George and Ira Gershwin. George Gershwin treat the film as a canvas to bridge classical orchestration with American swing, creating songs that became immortal classics overnight. 

ou can feel the sheer energy in numbers like "Slap That Bass," where Astaire dances in the engine room of the ocean liner, syncing his movements with the mechanical thrum of the ship. Then comes "Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off," an iconic routine on roller skates that perfectly captures the playful banter between Astaire and Rogers. And, of course, the soulful ballad "They Can't Take That Away from Me" highlights the quiet, heartfelt emotion the pair could summon without saying a single word. 

irected by Mark Sandrich, the film balances eccentric supporting characters—played to perfection by comedy regulars Edward Everett Horton and Eric Blore—with visually striking set pieces. The grand finale features a sea of female dancers all wearing masks designed in Ginger Rogers' likeness, a clever visual metaphor for a man who sees his true love everywhere he looks. 

More than eight decades later, Shall We Dance remains a triumph of kinetic energy, musical brilliance, and star power. It is a joyful reminder of an era when a bit of rhythm, a world-class score, and two effortless dancers could sweep audiences off their feet.

What Makes the Film Soaring Success

When looking at Shall We Dance through a critical lens, it stands out as one of the most musically ambitious films in the Astaire-Rogers catalogue. However, like many 1930s screwball musicals, it comes with its fair share of narrative flaws alongside its brilliant highlights.

The crown jewel of the film is without a doubt its legendary Gershwin score. George and Ira Gershwin delivered immortal American standards like "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off," "They Can't Take That Away from Me," and the title track itself. The music elevates every single scene and gives the film an enduring place in American culture.

Alongside the music, the innovative dance routines pushed physical boundaries for movie musicals at the time. The iconic roller-skating sequence in Central Park remains a masterclass in balance and timing, while Fred Astaire's solo in the ship's engine room during "Slap That Bass" brilliantly syncs human tap rhythm with industrial machinery.

By their seventh film together, the chemistry between Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers was pure second nature. Rogers delivers sharp, cynical comedic timing that balances Astaire's suave charm, and their partnership is bolstered by legendary character actors Edward Everett Horton and Eric Blore, who provide genuine comic relief throughout.

Where the Film Falls Short

On the flip side, the film suffers from a remarkably contrived screwball plot. The core conflict relies entirely on a classic misunderstanding that could be solved in thirty seconds of normal conversation. The idea that two famous people must actually get married just so they can legally divorce to clear up tabloid gossip requires a massive suspension of disbelief.

The narrative structure also causes some pacing issues. At nearly two hours, the film is noticeably longer than earlier RKO classics like Top Hat or Swing Time. The second act drags under the weight of its convoluted setup before reaching the big musical finale.

Finally, while the film attempts a fusion of highbrow ballet and lowbrow tap, certain guest performances feel out of place. Prima ballerina Harriet Hoctor is brought in for the climax, but her specialized style feels shoehorned into the narrative rather than naturally integrated into the overall aesthetic.