However, the revival of the play was a commercial and critical success with The Guardian 's theatre critic Michael Billington stating that Thea Sharrock 's production starring Benedict Cumberbatch confirmed that Rattigan is one of the "supreme dramatists of the 20th century". David and Joan Scott-Fowler were ' bright young things ' of the s, whose ambition is to treat everything as trivia and to live lives of pure sensation. They always maintained that they married for amusement and not for love. However, Helen Banner, a serious young woman, has fallen in love with David and is determined to change his lifestyle, free him from Joan, stop him from drinking and re-awaken the serious historian in him.
Unfortunately, Joan does indeed love David very deeply and is trapped by her posture of carelessness.
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At a party they are holding, Joan is bruised by the clash between private agony and public joy and she kills herself. George Murphy stars as a song and dance man who is wrongly convicted of manslaughter--making this one of the very few films to combine singing, tap dancing and prisona very strange genre melange indeed!
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The problem is that the stories just didn't mesh well at all. At one point, he's getting into fights in prison and going stir-crazy and the next he's in a white tux doing a second-rate imitation of Fred Astaire!!! It's rather surreal and mind-numbing, so after a while I found myself fast-forwarding through the song and dance numbers. I'd have much preferred if they'd just made it a prison film--this was by far the best portion.
If all this wasn't bad enough, the film just didn't make sense and by the end of the film it was hopelessly silly and unconvincing. By appearances, the studio must have felt the same way, since the movie just abruptly ended--with no real resolution. This was shown on Turner Classic Movies and they pride themselves for showing the most complete versions available. However, it sure looked like there was a huge chunk missing. Considering it was a B-film, I truly believe that at the one hour mark, they just edited out the ending to meet the usual time format for that style film.
Regardless, it's very unsatisfying and hokey--not at all a pleasant or entertaining film. Enjoy a night in with these popular movies available to stream now with Prime Video. Start your free trial. Find showtimes, watch trailers, browse photos, track your Watchlist and rate your favorite movies and TV shows on your phone or tablet!
After the Dance
Keep track of everything you watch; tell your friends. Full Cast and Crew. Harold Shumate screenplay , Harrison Jacobs story. Our Favorite Trailers of the Week. Monthly Film Bulletin All the films reviewed in We were simply young and spent our time as young men do, studying and amusing ourselves. I was a very gay, lively, careless fellow, and had plenty of money too. I had a fine horse, and used to go tobogganing with the young ladies. Skating had not yet come into fashion. I went to drinking parties with my comrades — in those days we drank nothing but champagne — if we had no champagne we drank nothing at all.
We never drank vodka, as they do now. Evening parties and balls were my favourite amusements. I danced well, and was not an ugly fellow. You were a handsome fellow. That does not matter.
The guests were welcomed by his wife, who was as good-natured as himself. She was dressed in puce-coloured velvet, and had a diamond diadem on her forehead, and her plump, old white shoulders and bosom were bare like the portraits of Empress Elizabeth, the daughter of Peter the Great. It was a splendid room, with a gallery for the orchestra, which was famous at the time, and consisted of serfs belonging to a musical landowner.
After the Dance () - IMDb
The refreshments were magnificent, and the champagne flowed in rivers. Though I was fond of champagne I did not drink that night, because without it I was drunk with love. But I made up for it by dancing waltzes and polkas till I was ready to drop — of course, whenever possible, with Varinka.
She wore a white dress with a pink sash, white shoes, and white kid gloves, which did not quite reach to her thin pointed elbows. A disgusting engineer named Anisimov robbed me of the mazurka with her — to this day I cannot forgive him.
So I did not dance the mazurka with her, but with a German girl to whom I had previously paid a little attention; but I am afraid I did not behave very politely to her that evening. I hardly spoke or looked at her, and saw nothing but the tall, slender figure in a white dress, with a pink sash, a flushed, beaming, dimpled face, and sweet, kind eyes.
I was not alone; they were all looking at her with admiration, the men and women alike, although she outshone all of them. They could not help admiring her. She always came forward boldly the whole length of the room to pick me out. I flew to meet her without waiting to be chosen, and she thanked me with a smile for my intuition.
After the Dance (song)
Ivan Vasilievich cried out, almost shouting in anger: Nowadays you think of nothing but the body. It was different in our day. The more I was in love the less corporeal was she in my eyes. You undress the women you are in love with. The musicians kept playing the same mazurka tunes over and over again in desperate exhaustion — you know what it is towards the end of a ball.
Papas and mammas were already getting up from the card-tables in the drawing-room in expectation of supper, the men-servants were running to and fro bringing in things. I had to make the most of the last minutes. I chose her again for the mazurka, and for the hundredth time we danced across the room. I was not only pleased and gay, I was happy, delighted; I was good, I was not myself but some being not of this earth, knowing nothing of evil.
I hid the feather in my glove, and stood there unable to tear myself away from her. He had a good colour, moustaches curled in the style of Nicolas I. He was splendidly set up, with a broad military chest, on which he wore some decorations, and he had powerful shoulders and long slim legs. He was that ultra-military type produced by the discipline of Emperor Nicolas I. He took the hand of his daughter, and stood one-quarter turned, waiting for the music.
Varinka swayed gracefully beside him, rhythmically and easily, making her steps short or long, with her little feet in their white satin slippers. As for me I not only admired, I regarded them with enraptured sympathy. They were not the modern pointed affairs, but were made of cheap leather, squared-toed, and evidently built by the regimental cobbler.