Fondling a martini, flaked out on the sofa in his Beverly Hills home, bald, bespectacled Gene Kelly could pass as the aging big star lapsing into the big fadeout. But not so. One flourish from that invisible 100-piece orchestra that always seems to follow him around, and he would undoubtedly slap on his hairpiece and straw hat, pirouette over the coffee table, go tippity-tap-tapping along the poolside, buck and wing it across the volleyball court, and end up with a ten-minute improvisation on the monkey bars.
At 54, Kelly is going like sixty....
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