Why Calamity Jane is a love song to America | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

Why Calami­ty Jane is a love song to America

03 Apr 2016

Words by Elisa Adams

Smiling woman in brown leather cowgirl outfit against blue sky with clouds.
Smiling woman in brown leather cowgirl outfit against blue sky with clouds.
This clas­sic Doris Day musi­cal from 1953 is filled with catchy, sur­pris­ing­ly pro­gres­sive show tunes.

Released in 1953, Calami­ty Jane was Warn­er Bros’ answer to Annie Get Your Gun, MGM’s smash suc­cess from 1950. It’s hard not to com­pare the films, espe­cial­ly giv­en that both are set in America’s wild west, fea­ture sharp-shoot­ing and ram­bunc­tious female leads and Howard Keel in the lead­ing male role. Yet despite cer­tain super­fi­cial sim­i­lar­i­ties each film rep­re­sents a very dif­fer­ent set of ideals.

Annie Get Your Gun fol­lows the MGM musi­cal guide­lines to a tee. It’s a bright, com­ic and the­atri­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the Old West with glo­ri­ous­ly camp Tech­ni­col­or set­tings where any­one who can sing, does, in per­fect har­mo­ny. With Irv­ing Berlin’s beau­ti­ful com­po­si­tions, glitz and glam­our it was a sure fire hit that lift­ed audi­ences out of their World War Two blues.

Calami­ty Jane is a com­plete con­trast. Unlike Berlin’s chirpy tunes (which though beau­ti­ful are only real­ly meant to enter­tain) Sam­my Fain and Paul Fran­cis Webster’s songs are care­ful­ly craft­ed to raise ques­tions over and cel­e­brate what it is to be Amer­i­can. The film’s Oscar-win­ning song Secret Love’ was adopt­ed as an anthem for the LGBT com­mu­ni­ty and in 1999 entered the Gram­my Hall of Fame for song­writ­ing. How­ev­er, it is not just this song and it’s chal­leng­ing of gen­der roles that makes this musi­cal an endur­ing clas­sic. Lis­ten to the rest of the sound­track today and it becomes clear that Calami­ty Jane is one of the great­est love songs to Amer­i­ca ever made.

Right from the get-go Calami­ty Jane does some­thing dif­fer­ent from most musi­cals of the time, instant­ly plung­ing us into old Amer­i­ca. The lyrics are not con­cerned with intro­duc­ing Jane though, she bursts on to the screen in her own whip-crack­ing way. Instead, like many of the songs through­out the movie, the lyrics are about trav­el­ling home, get­ting back into the com­mu­ni­ty and cel­e­brat­ing the life you have. Images of por­cu­pines, fizzing sar­sa­par­il­las and the light of the sil­very moon cre­ate a com­fort­ing atmos­phere. The music itself, with its rolling, con­stant beat, places the song in Amer­i­can folk territory.

The song’s use of the pen­ta­ton­ic scale adds an ele­ment of Indige­nous Amer­i­can cul­ture into the mix. This aspect of Amer­i­can his­to­ry is referred to through­out the film, both pos­i­tive­ly and neg­a­tive­ly. Bill Hickok famous­ly dress­es up as a Native Amer­i­can chief when he los­es a bet to Jane and there’s an excel­lent scene of hero­ism when Jane saves Lieu­tenant Dan­ny Miller from being cap­tured, but to say that the film paints this cul­ture in a pure­ly neg­a­tive light is unfair. Unlike Annie Get Your Gun, where Indige­nous Amer­i­cans are con­tin­u­al­ly the butt of the jokes, there is an acknowl­edg­ment and respect towards their her­itage in Calami­ty Jane which is made clear through the music and lyrics.

When Calami­ty Jane was released, Amer­i­ca was in a state of flux. In ear­ly 1953 the first nuclear tests were con­duct­ed in Neva­da, the Kore­an War had come to an end but Amer­i­ca was still embroiled in the Cold War. Amer­i­can audi­ences were cry­ing out for peace, and this song rep­re­sents a call to return to sim­pler times. Sung by the entire cast en route to a dance, the lyrics paint a stun­ning image of the icon­ic Amer­i­can land­scape and con­vey a mes­sage of hope.

It is unde­ni­ably sen­ti­men­tal, with themes rem­i­nis­cent of Bing Crosby’s I’ll Be Home For Christ­mas’, a song that was banned in the UK by the BBC dur­ing World War Two for this very rea­son. As a stand­alone song, The Black Hills of Dako­ta’ casts Amer­i­ca in a rem­i­nis­cent light. It’s no won­der it res­onat­ed so much with the Amer­i­can peo­ple – like The Dead­wood Stage’ it paints Amer­i­ca as not just a nation but a state of being.

As a char­ac­ter, Calami­ty Jane is pre­sent­ed as an equal to her male coun­ter­parts. When she is ribbed by her friends in The Gold­en Garter, it is not because she is a woman but rather because she’s prone to tall tales and mis­takes. She is able com­mand their atten­tion, as in Just Blew in from the Windy City’ when all she has to say is whis­tle” for around 50 men to start whistling in per­fect uni­son while she soft-shoes around the place. Tran­si­tion­ing from this to gai­ly singing about home ren­o­va­tions is a bizarre con­cept for Calami­ty Jane, and although a glo­ri­ous­ly enter­tain­ing part of the film, it sticks out as an exam­ple of 1950s moder­ni­ty. It’s also per­haps the most Doris Day” of all the songs in the film, both musi­cal­ly and lyrically.

Inter­pret­ed one way, it could be argued that Fain and Web­ster are say­ing that a woman’s place is in the home. How­ev­er, this is too sim­plis­tic giv­en that all the lead female char­ac­ters are self made and don’t rely on men to sur­vive. More­over, although Calami­ty changes her appear­ance after singing this song, she doesn’t let the mate­ri­al­is­tic changes in her life affect who she is as a per­son. For all of its sac­cha­rine imagery and jol­ly melodies, A Woman’s Touch’ is a cel­e­bra­tion of the Amer­i­can woman and her impact on the country’s mod­ern history.

A spe­cial Calami­ty Jane Sing-A-Long is in cin­e­mas from 8 April cour­tesy of Park Cir­cus.

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