Biografia

Tony Martin, the husband of MGM star/dancer Cyd Charisse, said he could tell who she had been dancing with that day on an MGM set. If she came home covered with bruises on her, it was the very physically-demanding Gene Kelly, if not it was the smooth and agile Fred Astaire.

Was sick, and had a fever of 103 degrees while filming the famous rain scene in Cantando na Chuva (1952).

He and his younger brother Fred Kelly appeared together in a dancing vaudeville act. When Gene got his big break as Harry the hoofer in the dramatic Broadway production of "The Time of Your Life" in 1939, he was eventually replaced by brother Fred, who took it on the road and won a Donaldson award for his efforts.

In a video interview in the late 1990s, Jules Dassin recalled that, after he had been blacklisted in Hollywood and escaped to Europe to continue his film directing and writing career, Kelly was the only American who was willing to be seen in public with him when they ran into each other at a Cannes Film Festival in the 1950s. Dassin recalled (but did not identify) another American celebrity who actually hid under a table to avoid being seen with him.

Was originally set to star as Don Hewes alongside Judy Garland in Desfile de Páscoa (1948). However, before filming began he got hurt and broke his ankle, resulting in Fred Astaire coming out of retirement to replace him.

[on his working experience with Debbie Reynolds while filming Cantando na Chuva (1952) (1952)] I wasn't nice to Debbie. It's a wonder she still speaks to me.

There was no model for what I tried to do with dance . . . and the thing Fred Astaire and I used to bitch about was that critics didn't know how to categorize us. They called us tap dancers because that was considered the American style. But neither of us were basically tap dancers.

The contract system at Hollywood studios like MGM was a very efficient system in that because we were at the studio all the time we could rehearse a lot. But it also really repressed people. There were no union regulations yet, and we were all indentured servants--you can call us slaves if you want--like ballplayers before free agency. We had seven-year contracts, but every six months the studio could decide to fire you if your picture wasn't a hit. And if you turned down a role, they cut off your salary and simply added the time to your contract.

Kids talk to me and say they want to do musicals again because they've studied the tapes of the old films. We didn't have that. We thought once we had made it, even on film, it was gone except for the archives.

I arrived in Hollywood 20 pounds overweight and as strong as an ox. But if I put on a white tails and tux like [Fred Astaire], I still looked like a truck driver.