Why Lovely to Look At 1952 Still Holds Up as a Fashion Masterpiece

Why Lovely to Look At 1952 Still Holds Up as a Fashion Masterpiece

Technicolor has a way of making everything look like a dream. In 1952, MGM decided to remake the classic musical Roberta, and the result was Lovely to Look At 1952, a film that basically functions as a high-budget, 105-minute runway show. If you’re a fan of the Golden Age of Hollywood, you know this era was obsessed with spectacle. But this movie? It’s on a different level.

It’s about a dress shop. Specifically, a Parisian fashion house that’s seen better days. Howard Keel, Red Skelton, and Gower Champion play three Broadway partners who inherit the shop and head to Paris, expecting a goldmine but finding a mountain of debt instead. It’s a thin plot. Honestly, the story is just a delivery vehicle for the Jerome Kern music and the mind-blowing costume design of Adrian.

The Fashion is the Real Star

Most people talk about the singing or the dancing when they bring up MGM musicals. With Lovely to Look At 1952, the conversation always shifts to the clothes. This was Adrian’s final film project. If that name doesn't ring a bell, he’s the guy who designed the Ruby Slippers for The Wizard of Oz and Joan Crawford’s legendary shoulder pads. He was a titan of couture.

The "fashion show" sequence at the end of the film isn't just a scene; it’s an event. It takes up a massive chunk of the runtime. You see gowns that look like they were carved out of liquid silk. They aren't just clothes; they are architectural feats. Vincente Minnelli actually directed the fashion show sequence, even though Mervyn LeRoy directed the rest of the movie. You can tell. There’s a specific, lush visual language in those frames that feels like a fever dream of 1950s elegance.

Why Nobody Talks About the Plot

Let’s be real. The script isn't winning any Pulitzers. It’s a remake of a 1935 film that starred Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Comparisons are inevitable. While the 1935 version has that Art Deco, black-and-white grit and charm, the Lovely to Look At 1952 version trades intimacy for sheer scale.

Howard Keel’s voice is a literal cannon. He booms. When he sings the title track, "Lovely to Look At," he isn't just performing; he's dominating the room. Then you have Kathryn Grayson. Her soprano is technically perfect, though some modern viewers find her style a bit "old school" compared to the more naturalistic singers we see today. They play the romantic leads, but the real electricity comes from the secondary couple: Marge and Gower Champion.

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The Champions were the "it" couple of dance in the early fifties. Their chemistry is effortless. In Lovely to Look At 1952, their choreography is athletic yet graceful. They move through the Parisian sets—which, let’s be honest, were clearly built on an MGM backlot in Culver City—with a fluidity that makes you forget the floor is probably just painted plywood.

Red Skelton and the Comedy Problem

Red Skelton is a polarizing figure for modern audiences. In 1952, he was a massive star. In this movie, he plays the comic relief, and your enjoyment of his performance depends entirely on how much you like "zany" 1950s humor. He does a few bits that feel like they belong in a vaudeville theater rather than a romantic musical.

Some critics back then thought he felt out of place. They weren't entirely wrong. When you have the high-fashion drama of the fashion house and the soaring operatic vocals of Grayson and Keel, a guy doing pratfalls can feel jarring. But that was the MGM formula. A little something for everyone. They wanted the dads to laugh, the moms to look at the dresses, and the kids to enjoy the dancing.

The Technical Brilliance of Technicolor

If you ever get the chance to see a restored version of Lovely to Look At 1952, take it. The color palette is aggressive in the best way possible. We're talking deep emeralds, shocking pinks, and midnight blues that look like they could stain your fingers if you touched the screen.

This was the height of the three-strip Technicolor process. It required an immense amount of light on the set. The actors were often sweating under the heat of massive lamps just to get that saturated look. The result is a film that feels more "real" than reality. It captures a version of Paris that never existed but should have.

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The Music of Jerome Kern

You can't talk about this movie without mentioning the score. Jerome Kern was one of the greats. Songs like "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" and "The Last Time I Saw Paris" are embedded in the American songbook. In Lovely to Look At 1952, these songs are treated with total reverence.

"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" is staged with a haunting, atmospheric quality. It’s easily the highlight of the vocal performances. It’s interesting to note that "The Last Time I Saw Paris" wasn't actually in the original stage musical of Roberta. It was added later, famously winning an Oscar for Best Original Song in 1941 after appearing in Lady Be Good. By the time 1952 rolled around, it was a staple, and its inclusion here feels essential to the "American in Paris" vibe the studio was chasing.

Is It Better Than the 1935 Original?

This is the big debate among film nerds. The 1935 Roberta has Fred and Ginger. That’s a hard act to beat. The 1935 version feels like a movie; the 1952 version feels like a showcase.

If you want a coherent story with legendary chemistry, go with the '35. If you want a sensory overload of color, fashion, and operatic singing, Lovely to Look At 1952 is the winner. It represents the peak of the "Studio System" where no expense was spared. The sets are massive. The cast is deep. The orchestrations are lush. It’s "Big Cinema" in every sense of the word.

Why It Matters Now

We don't make movies like this anymore. CGI has replaced the craft of the physical set, and "fast fashion" has ruined our appreciation for the kind of couture featured in this film. Watching Lovely to Look At 1952 is a reminder of a time when Hollywood believed that beauty, for its own sake, was a valid reason to make a movie.

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It’s a historical document of mid-century aesthetics. From the way the hair is styled to the specific cut of the suits, it’s a time capsule. Even the way the actors speak—the Mid-Atlantic accent that was so popular in film—is a relic of a vanished era.

Actionable Ways to Enjoy This Classic

For those looking to dive deeper into the world of 1952 cinema and this specific musical, here is how to get the most out of the experience:

  • Watch for the "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" sequence: Pay attention to the lighting and the way the camera moves around Kathryn Grayson. It’s a masterclass in 1950s cinematography.
  • Compare the Fashion: If you’re into design, look up Adrian’s work for Greta Garbo and then watch the final 20 minutes of this film. You can see his evolution toward more structured, almost avant-garde silhouettes.
  • Listen to the Lyrics: Otto Harbach’s lyrics for the title song are incredibly clever. They reflect a specific kind of romanticism that was common before the more cynical "Method" acting took over Hollywood in the mid-fifties.
  • Check the Credits: Notice the names in the art department. These were the people who defined the "MGM Look."

Lovely to Look At 1952 might not be the most "important" film ever made, but it is undeniably one of the most beautiful. It’s a movie that asks nothing of you except to sit back and be dazzled by the colors. Sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

To truly appreciate the film's impact, track down a high-definition copy—the standard definition versions often muddy those incredible Adrian colors. Once you see that final fashion show in crisp detail, you’ll understand why the title isn't just a song; it’s a factual description of the movie itself. Take note of the way the film handles its transition from the gritty reality of a failing business to the sparkling fantasy of the runway; it’s a textbook example of MGM’s "dream factory" philosophy in action.