Jane Powell first sang and danced her way into my heart in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.
I must have been eight or nine then, when Betamax was still the height of technology and a musical involving kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome didn’t raise any eyebrows.
Despite its questionable premise, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers remains a guilty pleasure. And to be fair, Jane’s character Milly did manage to whip those boorish Pontipees into shape.
A year or so later, I grew to love Jane Powell even more when I saw her in another visual and auditory delight: Royal Wedding.
She seemed weightless, ethereal, as she matched Fred Astaire’s moves with ease.
Together, they were magical. Especially in the scenes featuring their brother-and-sister cabaret act and their ballroom performance onboard a ship sailing on rough seas.
Sweet, shy Milly Pontipee and the more worldly-wise Ellen Bowen were polar opposites, but they created an image in my child’s mind of what God’s angels looked and sounded like.
Like Jane Powell.
And today, she’s flown back to heaven where she belongs.
She was one of the best. And I will love her forever.
