Second Chorus – Swinging Through the 40s With Sand in My Shoes

Okay, so, *Second Chorus* (1940), directed by H.C. Potter and pumped full of jazz by nobody less than Fred Astaire and Paulette Goddard. Just saying, when you see Astaire’s name in the credits, the popcorn flies faster. And then there’s Artie Shaw – THE Artie Shaw – actually playing himself. Like, what!? That’s just mental, honestly.

I admit, first time I saw this was on a grey November afternoon in Göteborg, God knows how long ago. My dad complained that the trumpet solos gave him “huvudvärk större än Ullevi,” but I was just staring at Astaire and Goddard dancing like it was pure everyday magic. There’s that scene where they’re doing their tap routine and you can basically feel the old varnished wood creaking under their feet – the sound was so crisp I remember actually stomping around the living room trying to copy it. Didn’t work. Got yelled at for scratching the floor. Divine justice? Maybe.

The film is a bit crazy. The story – two student musicians (Astaire and Burgess Meredith, who mostly looks confused about everything) struggling to keep their college band together and win over Goddard’s character. It’s like a big, messy jazz session; sometimes brilliant, other times you think, huh, did they even rehearse this bit? And Shaw, he acts about as well as a day-old räksmörgås but, you know, he plays clarinet like a god so can’t be too angry.

Watching this, you actually get swallowed by all the 40s optimism. The humour is slapstick, yeah, but not in an annoying way. And those tunes? Proper earworms. Makes you want to bang out a few steps on the kitchen floor even if you can’t.

If you’re into old school showbiz charm, or just wanna feel like you’re at a smoky jazz club in Manhattan instead of in Malmö drizzle, you gotta catch this one. Maybe wear slippers if your floors are as scratched up as mine.

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