Cyd Charisse dead at 86

[Shooterman]

Legendary dancer Cyd Charisse dies - CNN.com

Undoubtedly one of the most talented and beautiful dancers of all time. Forget dancing, as she was truly a beautiful woman. She had legs that went on forever.

Rest in peace Miss Charisse, and 'thanks for all the wonderful memories.'

[Woodmonkey]

I remember her. What a beautiful, talented, woman. Lots of good memories!

[Woodmonkey]

There is an extraordinary joy in watching Cyd Charisse dancing with her lingerie — perhaps her finest partner — in “Silk Stockings.” You remember the story. Ninotchka, a stern Soviet commissar played by Charisse, comes to Paris to retrieve three wayward Soviet emissaries and is wooed by an American, played by Fred Astaire, and the city itself. “Silk Stockings” was released in July 1957, which makes it post-McCarthy but pre-Sputnik. As an expression of personal détente, it is hard to beat Charisse’s erotic, fluttering pas de deux with the Parisian undergarments she has hidden around her hotel room. It is an ode to shame and the setting aside of shame.

Charisse, who died on Tuesday at age 86, brought something unusual to the inherent absurdity of the American movie musical. She had a demure, accepting presence. Demure may sound like a strange word to describe a dancer who became famous for her torch number with Gene Kelly in “Singing in the Rain” and a similar number with Astaire in “The Band Wagon.” To grasp what I mean, all you have to do is compare Cyd Charisse to Judy Garland. Again and again, Garland lets the audience see, with a look, that she knows exactly what is going on, that life is really just a soundstage. But Charisse, who is the lesser actor by far, vanishes into the illusion, which is one of the things that made her such a perfect fit with Astaire.

And if I had to choose only one moment to remember Charisse by, it would be her silent duet with Astaire in “The Band Wagon.” The song is “Dancing in the Dark,” the setting is Central Park, and, as usual, the overlapping illusions are nearly confounding. There they are — two professional dancers, carefully choreographed and rehearsed, playing two professional dancers dancing spontaneously on a soundstage that is meant to be Central Park, and all the while they are feigning an almost reproachful, amorous awareness of each other that conceals the hard-working awareness of two pros on the job. It was Cyd Charisse’s remarkable gift to move through the hall of mirrors that is the American movie musical and never be caught glancing at herself.

The Source