Before I Die #592: An Affair to Remember (1957)

This is the 592nd movie I've seen of the 1,187 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working through.

Director: Leo McCarey

One of those late-1950s movies that has some excellent elements to it, but is painfully weakened by certain film tropes of the day which have aged horribly.

The story revolves around Nickie Ferrante, played by classic leading man Cary Grant. Ferrante is a world-renowned playboy with a countless number of wealthy, socialite ladies among his many conquests. However, this tale begins with newspaper announcements that the playboy is finally settling down and is officially engaged to a massively wealthy New York City heiress. A monkey wrench is thrown in the works, though, when Ferrante falls in love with a woman he meets on a cruise back to the U.S. from Europe. The woman, Terry McCay (Deborah Kerr), is also engaged. She also does not fall prey to any of Ferrante's charms. This seems to inflame Ferrante's interest and passion all the more. More than that, it actually blossoms into genuine love for Terry. After a visit with Ferrante's wise and loving grandmother in an Italian port, Terry actually sees Ferrante's genuinely lovable core. She falls for him, but the two do not fully act on their new-found mutual love. Instead, they return to their respective fiances in New York. Soon, though, Ferrante breaks off his engagement and promises to meet Terry in six months at the top of the Empire State building, six months being long enough for them both to end their relationships and for Ferrante to actually work for the first time in his life. Things are going as planned, but when a severe accident occurs, their love is put through a very serious test.

The movie has some dashes of the screwball comedy genre - a type of film from the 1930s and 1940s which I mostly dislike. Ferrante is a playboy who has always been immersed in the high society of the women whom he has been bedding, and this fits right in with the screwball comedy genre's preoccupation with the rich and famous. However, this is offset a good deal by Terry McCay, who is a rather down-to-earth nightclub singer. And while there are moments of the unnaturally sharp, cutting dialogue typical of screwball flicks, the pace is a bit more relaxed. It also helps that the movie avoids the overload of pratfalls and sillier elements of screwball. I can't say that I found the movie nearly as funny as it was meant to be, but I found Deborah Kerr to be a phenomenal counterpart to Cary Grant's self-satisfied Nickie Ferrante. She carries an assured slyness that is more than welcome in such a movie.

Like pretty much any movie starring Cary Grant at the time,
this one features incredibly vibrant sets, costumes, and solid
framing. The movie's greatest asset, though, is probably
Deborah Kerr.

The general story certainly has more than a few sappy romance elements. For me, the most painfully melodramatic is when Terry is paralyzed by an oncoming car, just before she is about to meet Nickie at the top of the Empire State Building and accept his proposal for marriage. This moment alone knocks the movie down a few notches in my book. It doesn't help that we also get to see an incapacitated Terry get serenaded by a group of oh-so-cute grade-schoolers not once but twice. These moments smacked of Hollywood, bottom line interference. "Hey, little kids singing sells tickets. People love that stuff! Put some kids singing in that picture!" Painful hardly describes it for me.

That said, there was a depth and occasional subtlety that I found surprising and enjoyable. While there are certainly questions which are ignored or glossed over, I appreciated how the movie did take on the relatively mature theme of infidelity and adult relationships to an extent. Ferrante's public breaking of his engagement sends the story on an unexpected turn, and there are a few somewhat darker moments periodically. These added just enough bite to prevent the movie from becoming saccharine.

An Affair to Remember was enjoyable enough, though it's probably not one that I feel a need to see again. I suppose it's considered a "great" movie due to some then-novel turns in narrative, coupled with strong performances by Grant and Kerr. Those who love classic Grant from the '40s and '50s are sure to appreciate this one.

That's 592 movies down. Only 595 to go before I can die. 

She Done Him Wrong (1933)

Director: Lowell Sherman

Summary (With Spoilers, if that matters):

A popular and self-serving but caring cabaret singer, Lou (Mae West) in 1890s Manhattan Bowery finds herself in between various power-hungry local politicians and criminals who seek to flex their muscles and win Lou's affections. Lou breezily plays them off one another and even manages to help out the charity center next door to the cabaret, but not without the help of an undercover Federal agent known as "The Hawk" (Cary Grant). In the end, The Hawk rounds up all of the crooks, and instead of hauling Lou into prison for her self-defensive murder of another dastardly dame, he puts a ring on her finger and vows to marry her.

How sweet.

Did I Like It?

She Done Him Wrong is fun enough, but not exactly a stunning classic film that with give you much to take with you. The plot is pretty thin, sensational and visceral stuff; the primary characters, aside from Lou, are all either penny dreadful, 1-dimensional bad guys or the knight-in-shining armor; and the dialogue is comprised of mostly pulp-novel cliches and silly colloquialisms. These latter can actually be quite amusing at times, if only for their dated silliness.

No, the attraction has nothing to do with plot, character depth, stunning dialogue, or dazzling acting. It's all about Mae West. She was, truly, a wonder. With a breezy and careless sultriness, West dominates every scene. Despite playing what amounts to a prostitute with extremely loose ideas when it comes to men's affections, West is in complete control in virtually every scene. In films from the 1930s, especially the pre-Hayes Code era, the only other woman who I find as naturally strong and magnetic as West was Barbara Stanwyck.

Not unlike the characters she played in vaudeville and films,
West inspired lust, attraction, and admiration, as well as
derision and jealousy in both men and women. And she
seemed to have a hell of a good time doing it all.

This is, of course, what makes the conclusion of She Done Him Wrong a little disappointing. Having her fat inexplicably pulled out of the fire by a "white knight" like a very young and dashing Cary Grant takes some of the strength out of West's character and the appeal of the movie. But the movie is played in such a playful way, that it's hard to take it too seriously. This is unlike a film like Baby Face, which had much more gravity to it, making the happy "Hollywood" ending much more disappointing. These unsatisfying endings do, however, serve to remind that the 1930s were still very much a part of "a man's world."

She Done Him Wrong is a fun, quick look back at how bawdy and entertaining films could be in the 1930s, before the film industry got scared of the conservative majority and started to censor itself - a constricting force that wouldn't start to loosen its stranglehold for over two decades. 

Film #57: Charade (1963)

Director: Stanley Dolan

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about 2 years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Newly widowed, ever-chic waif is hounded by mean strangers over a mysterious fortune left by her enigmatic dead husband. Wears fantastic hats.

Extended Summary (Lengthier synopsis, including major spoilers. Fair warning)

Somewhere in France, a body is found beside a railroad track. The corpse was Charles Lampert, whose widow, Regina (Audrey Hepburn) at first knows nothing of her husband's death. Instead, she has been whiling away her time on a ski slope, complaining to a friend about how she knows virtually nothing of her husband, and will soon be asking for a divorce. While at the ski lodge, she has a brief flirtatious encounter with Peter Joshua (Cary Grant), a suave American seemingly on holiday as well.

Upon her return to Paris, Regina discovers that she and her husband's 5-star hotel suite has been completely gutted of all belongings. At police headquarters, she is informed that her husband has been found dead, but not before he had sold off he and his wife's belongings and attempted to flee the country for some unknown reason. The questions about Regina's deceased husband increase.

Regina Lampert, sporting the only sunglasses that could possibly be larger than her Japanese animated character eyes.

Back at her hotel room, Regina is soon met by Peter Joshua, who has looked her up and found her deep in thought. After hearing her story, he offers to help her in any way that he can. At Charles Lampert's funeral the next day, Regina witnesses more oddity: three distinctive men, known as Panthollow (James Coburn), Scobie (George Kennedy) and Gideon, one-by-one, approach the open coffin of the dead man and carefully check to see that he is dead. Regina merely watches in stunned amazement.

After the funeral, Regina is contacted by U.S. Treasury official Hamilton Bartholomew (Walter Matthau), who clarifies a few things, while adding new mysteries. He explains that Charles Lampert's real name was Charles Voss, and that he was part of a small U.S. military group that stole $250,000 that was meant for the French resistance during World War II. Voss/Lampert was part of the five-man conspiracy, which included the three strange men from Lampert's funeral, as well as a fifth man named Dyle. Voss/Lampert, after many years of waiting, snuck in and stole the money and was running off with it when he was killed. With Voss/Lampert dead for a certainty, the surviving conspirators are all after the money that they are sure he spirited away from them. The problem is that no one knows where the money is, but everyone thinks that Regina does. The only clues that Charles Voss/Lampert left behind are in a travel bag which seems to contain nothing out of the ordinary.

As if this winding tale weren't confounding enough, the confusion grows as Peter Joshua becomes more involved. At first, he is the helpful compatriot, Peter Joshua. However, he then seems to be in cahoots with the other three thieves, as they refer to him as Dyle. He later explains that he is not the original Dyle, who is presumed dead, but Dyle's brother, and he is seeking revenge on the other three treasure seekers. This, too, is another fabrication, as “Dyle” admits to a third identity – that of an international thief named Adam Canfield. All of these shifts and covers are slowly revealed to Regina through their interactions. Frustrating as it all is to her, she finds herself falling in love with this mystery man, as he repeatedly saves her from the other three fortune hunters.

The mystery man shows off his true professionalism by not laughing at that ridiculous excuse for a hat that Regina Lampert is wearing.

The serious problems start when more deaths occur. First is the massive Scobie, who is found drowned in The Mystery Man's tub. Shortly after, Gideon is discovered with his throat slashed in the same hotel's elevator. It would seem that the only suspects are the still-living Tex Panthollow or Regina's identity-shifting protector/rogue, The Mystery Man.

Just as all of this is transpiring, The Mystery Man presses Regina for any information that will still lead him to the $250,000 and save her from any further threats by Panthollow. She does recall a meeting place and time, which is in a nearby public park. When The Mystery Man arrives, he notices that Panthollow is already there. At first, neither of them understands the significance of the park. That is, until they both notice the massive swap meet of stamp collectors. Panthollow recalls that one of the items in Charles Voss/Lampert's travel bag was a letter affixed with three stamps. He also correctly assumes that these stamps must be the hiding place of the quarter million dollars. He races back to Regina's hotel room to get the stamps. The Mystery Man puts together the same pieces, finds Panthollow back in the room, but discovers that, while the letter and envelope are still there, the stamps have been torn off.

Back in the park, Regina sees the results of her own little maneuver. She had realized the value of the stamps and sent them to a friend for safe-keeping. Following a nearly disastrous sell-off of the stamps, she recovers them. We then learn that the three stamps are, indeed, worth an amazing $250,000.

Regina returns to her hotel room and is horrified to find Tex Panthollow's dead body in her room. His dead fingers have sketched out the name “Dyle” on the carpet. As Regina flees, The Mystery Man himself arrives and begins to give chase. Regina runs and manages to contact the Treasury Agent Bartholomew for help. All three people converge between the massive marble pillars of an outdoor plaza. Both Bartholomew and The Mystery Man are armed and ready to kill each other. It is only now that The Mystery Man realizes and explains to Regina that Bartholomew is actually the original Dyle; that he was never killed in the War, and that he has been posing as a Treasury agent and killing the other thieves in order to get at the money through Regina. While he denies it at first, Bartholomew eventually admits to the truth. He threatens Regina in an attempt to wrest the valuable stamps from her, but The Mystery Man gets to the real Dyle first, shooting him dead.

Hamlton Bartholomew, one of several characters who are not quite what they seem.

The following day, The Mystery Man and Regina go to the American Embassy to return the $250,000 that was originally theirs. The Mystery Man decides to remain in the hallway, claiming that, being a professional thief, it would hurt him too much to see so much money simply given away. This, however, is his final ruse. When Regina strolls into the office of Treasury Director Crookshanks, she discovers that he is, in fact, the man who has been so rapidly swapping names. This final identity is, however, genuine, and the two fall into each others' arms.

The Verdict

Charade is a decent enough movie, and it held my attention, but this was despite some really serious problems I have with it.

The good? One thing is the overall plot. As far as playful suspense movies go, the story in Charade clicks along really well. Like many of Alfred Hitchcock's stronger suspense movies, the viewer is intrigued enough to try and piece together the strange scenarios. However, every time you think you have a handle on it, one of the variables changes. This is typified by the nominal chameleon, Agent Crookshanks. Even though I wasn't completely in love with this movie, the time flew by pleasantly enough as I scrambled to keep to up with the plot.

Helping out the telling of the tale are some humorously 2-dimensional characters brought to life by some solid acting. While I have serious problems with some of the acting (I'll get to that in a moment), James Coburn and George Kennedy are enjoyable. Even better, I felt like Walter Matthau steals all of his scenes. His effortlessly dry humor is perfection.

Another undoubted strength is the visuals. As might be expected from a director who was behind such technicolor musical standards as Singin' In the Rain and many others, Charade's vibrancy is rather appealing. The shots are framed perfectly, and all actors and props are right in their places. Such compositions make the film exceptionally easy on the eyes.

One of the many shots in the film that could make a pretty decent postcard. Note the artful arrangement of colors.

All of these positives just barely outweighed the nuisances to me. First among these bugaboos is that there is a serious lack of cohesion in the speech and actions of the main characters. Both Regina Lampert and Crookshanks make odd swings between being silly and playful to being highly emotional. This leads to some rather strange scenes and annoying interactions. Most obvious to me is a rather weird scene in which Crookshanks, to bring a smile to Regina's face after a near-death experience, jumps into a shower fully clothed and pretends to wash. I think it was meant to be charmingly goofy, but it comes off as just bizarre.

The greater problem to me is a major bias of mine: Audrey Hepburn. I am simply not a fan of hers. Granted, the fact that the character she plays is a confusing hodge-podge of attitudes and emotions, and perhaps no actress could have pulled it off. Still, there has always been something about Hepburn's giant-eyed posing and aristocratic air that irks me. I realize that she was the “it” girl in her day and is still seen as a fashion icon, and I guess I understand why. All the same, the only movie in which I've been able to stomach her is My Fair Lady, and that only because she is verbally abused relentlessly by Rex Harrison. Her role in Charade managed only to annoy me with her odd shifts from comically apathetic widower to hopelessly fawning romantic or from clever, cool customer to skitish, hapless victim.

One of many scenes in which Audrey Hepburn over(re)acts. Seriously - it's just a friggin' match, lady.

Will I watch this movie again? Probably not. The riveting aspect of this movie was the suspense of the unknown. Even having watched the movie a few years ago, I had forgotten nearly all of the plot details. Now knowing them all, further viewings would only highlight the things that I don't like about the movie. I would still recommend that nearly anyone who enjoys films give it at least one go. Anyone who really likes Audrey Hepburn and/or Cary Grant will surely not be disappointed, as the former is at her most “adorably” elfish, and the latter is...well, he's Cary Grant.

That's a wrap. 57 shows down. 48 to go.

Coming Soon: Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

One of my favorite comedies of all time, by the otherwise dead serious directing great, Stanley Kubrick. If any film on this list has a chance to unseat Kind Hearts and Coronets as “darkest comedy”, this is the one...

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #29: Notorious (1946)

Director: Alfred Hitchcock

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about 8 months ago)

20-Words-or-Fewer Summary (no spoilers):

Gorgeous, floozy booze-bag is enlisted by suave G-Man to spy on expatriate Nazi sect in Brazil.

Full Summary (a full blow-by-blow of the plot, spoilers included. Fair warning):

In Miami, former Nazi John Huberman is convicted of treason against the United States. His daughter, Alicia Huberman (Ingrid Bergman) goes home and drowns her sorrows at a small soiree at her home. Present at the party is T.R. Devlin (Cary Grant), whom Alicia believes to be a local policeman simply sent to keep an eye on her. He is, in fact, a federal agent whose task is to survey Huberman to determine if she can help the U.S. government infiltrate a suspected Nazi contingent in Brazil.

Alicia has a reputation of loose relationships and being a bit of a tippler. Upon discovering Devlin's true purpose, she initially turns him away. When Devlin confronts her with proof of her love for the U.S. and hatred for the tenets of Nazism (in the form of a taped conversation with her father), she relents and agrees to accompany him to Brazil.

Once in Brazil, the service's plot is made known: Alicia is to ingratiate herself to one Alexander Sebastian (Claude Raines), a past acquaintance who was friends with John Huberman and loved his daughter, Alicia. Once the false love is impressed, it is to be exploited and Alicia is to reveal anything that she uncovers in her dealings with Sebastian. Complicating things, however, is that Devlin and Alicia fall in love with each other. Yet, the stoic and professional Devlin refuses to allow his feelings for Alicia interfere with the mission, and he allows her to use herself as erotic bait.

Agent Devlin has his first encounter with a tipsy Alicia Huberman

The plan works, but all too well. Sebastian once again falls in love with Alicia. So much so that he proposes marriage. Along with Sebastian's love for her, Alicia also discovers that Sebastian is indeed in the middle of a plot by Nazi German expatriates to somehow reestablish some sort of Nazi power in the world. Despite his discomfort at letting his love further embed herself in such dirty dealings, Devlin and the local U.S. feds allow Alicia to marry Sebastian, in the hopes of unearthing further details of the plot.

Once Alicia is married to Sebastian, they throw a party at which Devlin arrives, posing as a playboy American on holiday, and discovers that the Germans are stockpiling plutonium deposits from a nearby mountain range. Unfortunately, Sebastian later discovers Alicia and Devlin's true identities and treachery. Sebastian and his aged mother, also of fundamental Nazi leanings, then begin to slowly poison Alicia, hoping to quietly dispatch her without further alerting the U.S. agents.

In the end, Devlin figures out what is happening and arrives at the Sebastian estate. He slyly extricates Alicia, finally confessing his love to her as she is in bed, near death from poisoning. Upon leaving with her, he leaves Sebastian behind to face his fellow Nazi conspirators, who now know the full scale of his indiscretions and will presumably "deal" with him. We are left to assume that Alicia will be nursed back to health with her love, Devlin, at her side, and that Alexander Sebastian will be "silenced" by his compatriots.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after this most recent viewing, before any research):

Really good film. Probably one of Hitchcock's absolute best, which is saying something.

After seeing Grant, Bergman, and Raines in a few earlier films, Notorious was a great departure in terms of characters. Up to this point in the list, Cary Grant had played some of the more annoying characters to me. Between The Awful Truth and His Girl Friday, I had almost forgotten what I liked about him. Now, with his role as T.R. Devlin, he finally sloughs off the skin of an arrogant sophisticate and plays a far more intriguing character. He's calm, cool, efficient, and every inch the professional spy, with nary a condescending bone in his body. Even in the face of the drop-dead gorgeous Alicia Huberman, who he admittedly loves, he doesn't let his emotions get in the way of his job. You may not love him for it, but there's a legitimate strength to him that I hadn't seen in his earlier roles.

Bergman is another one. Coming off her role in Casablanca as Ilsa Lund, which was a relatively weak character, playing Alica Huberman is a great departure. In her very first scenes, she's drunk as a skunk and buck wild. She promptly gets rough with Devlin, who only subdues her with a few quick judo chops and a pinch to a pressure point. She has real fire and shows even more acting skill, convincingly playing a woman transitioning from being a "notoriously" loose Jezebel to a person of great conviction, courage and ability.

Here's a great scene in Brazil which exemplifies everything that Bergman and Grant do well in this movie - tease each other with surgical precision. The first full 5 minutes is well worth watching:



Those last few minutes really skirted the Puritanical movie codes of the day.

Raines does a similar chameleon act. As Captain Renault in Casablanca, he was an eminently lovable rogue. As Alexander Sebastian in Notorious, however, he does a fantastic turn as a semi-suave yet contemptible Nazi. Just as his key role to complete the triad of classic characters with Bergman and Bogart in Casablanca, he does the same with Grant and Bergman in this Hitchcock standard.

The story is perfect for Hitchcock's direction. While the initial romance between Devlin and Alicia is a touch rushed in the early going, it never feels essentially unnatural. It's certainly not hard to see how they fall for each other. It's also balanced beautifully and woven into the espionage tale masterfully. The emotional power is as much left to careful glances and gestures as it is to the occasional outbursts of charged dialogue between Grant and Bergman. These things elevate this tale far above a mere suspense yarn or even an adventurous romance.

The only parts that seemed a bit out of whack to me had to do with timing. One was the aforementioned budding romance. While the characters have been together for over a week (a reasonable time for love to bloom), we viewers have had about 10 minutes with Devlin and Alicia. It was ever-so speedy to me. The other moment is at the end, as Alicia lies on her deathbed and Devlin comes in to rescue her. As he finally breaks down and opens his heart to her, my eyebrows gradually furrowed as a wondered, "has this guy forgotten that there's a cabal of murderous Nazis lingering downstairs?!" It was obviously a necessary scene, but stood out as a bit forced amidst an otherwise masterfully paced movie.

While Hitchcock had already done several very well-received movies by 1946, this may have been his strongest to that point. The exotic locale of Brazil made a great backdrop, and the opulent setting of the Sebastian estate create a great sense of place. Hitchcock always made great use of location, and his eventual use of color would dazzle in films like Vertigo or North By Northwest, but the black-and-white scenes in Notorious are just as striking, if in a more subtle way.

I would say that all but the most ardent Alfred Hitchcock or Cary Grant haters would love this movie. It's engaging and unique, and yet another classic film that has spawned endless imitation attempts (really, James Cameron's True Lies, while entertaining, is just a modified, high-octane, lesser rendition of Notorious). For the real deal without the gunfire or body count, go back to this all-timer.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some further research):

Plenty of good analysis of this film out there. Hitchcock has obviously been one of the most accomplished, celebrated, and prolific filmmakers in history. Any film fan worth his or her salt can pick out one or two favorites, and it seems that Notorious regularly makes the top 2 or 3 for most film aficionados. And yet, it seems to me that it is less famous than Hitchcock standards like Psycho, The Birds, North by Northwest, or even Vertigo. Why?

Those others had certain shock value to them, and this really interesting essay by William Rothman points out several things, foremost perhaps that this film was virtually the last "optimistic" Hitchcock movie. Coming in the middle of his career, it seems that he hit his stride as a storyteller and director, and he melded the dark aspects that were his hallmark with a more palatable ending for a wider audience.

Rothman points to the relationship between Devlin and Alicia as "perverse," which is true. They constantly torment each other, and not playfully. Devlin all but dares Alicia to run into the arms of Sebastian, just as Alicia willfully plays up her reputation as a drunken tart. Both of them seem to relish the opportunities to torture the other out of some sense of twisted attraction. Before Rothman's essay, I hadn't really considered it, but he seems right on.

One of the really intriguing things to arise from this movie is "The McGuffin," which has become a byword in film. The McGuffin can be defined as the thing that the plot and characters revolve around, in the case of Notorious, it's the wine bottles (filled with uranium, we later discover). Hitchcock coined the term and explained how the actual form of the McGuffin is not important, as long as we sense its importance to the main characters. Hitchcock used the device many times, but other modern examples would be the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, "The Formula" in The Spanish Prisoner, or even "unobtainium" in Avatar. I've always liked the enigma behind these vague objects, and now I know from whence they came.

An additional point about the McGuffin in Notorious - the plutonium. At the time of Notorious's release, the ins and outs of atomic weaponry were far from common knowledge. The fact that Hitchcock and the filmmakers used it as a focal point got the attention of more than one security official in the U.S. They were investigated as to where and how they had learned that plutonium was a key ingredient in the making of such a devastating weapon. Curious, no?

One final note is the original TIME magazine review. It indicates how successful the film was, even back in the day. I particularly like the writer's little jabs at how clumsy Alicia and Devlin are when it comes to the key and the wine bottles. Check out their last paragraph for a few good laughs. Here's the scene the writer was referencing:



All analysis just reinforces what a pillar this movie is in the halls of suspense film. A few more Hollywood studios might do well to study it and try to better emulate its careful fusing of elegance and simplicity to create an incredible piece of work.

That's a wrap. 29 down. 76 to go.

Coming Soon: It's A Wonderful Life (1946):


It's Christmas in June!! It's going to be weird watching this, since it's about 90 billion degrees outside here in eastern PA, but maybe Jimmy Stewart and Zuzu can take my mind off of the heat.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #19: His Girl Friday (1940)

Director: Howard Hawks

Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: Once (about 5 years ago)

20-Words-or-Fewer Summary (no spoilers)

Machine gun-tongued divorcees & journalists reconnect through hot news story.

The Story (A full blow-by-blow, including spoilers. Fair warning):

Hildegard "Hildy" Johnson (Rosalind Russell), former star journalist, returns to her former newspaper, which is headed by her ex-husband, Walter Burns (Cary Grant). She has come to announce her retirement and fresh engagement to simple nice guy Bruce Baldwin (Ralph Bellamy). Hildy intends to move to Albany with Bruce, an insurance salesman, and become a full-time house wife. Walter, the fast-talking, take-no-prisoners editor of the city's largest paper, is taken aback and immediately pleads with Hildy to stay on the staff and even remarry him. She steadfastly refuses, instead proclaiming her desire to leave behind the high stress life of a beat reporter.

A major story interrupts everyone's plans. A skittish murderer is on death row and is the focal point of some serious local electioneering. Burns sees this as the chance to keep Hildy around, show her that her place is in journalism and as his wife. He uses every chance he can to embarrass Baldwin and guide Hildy towards the story. Eventually, Walter's machinations stoke Hildy's natural journalistic curiosity and she's on the case.

On the left, Walter Burns, master of the shit-eating grin.

Through a dizzying array of arrests, interviews, and lightning-quick dialogue exchanges, Hildy works out all of the kinks: the dead man walking is reprieved as insane, the corrupt local sheriff and mayor are revealed as frauds, and Hildy leaves Bruce to go back to her life with Walter.

Just like that.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after one viewing & before any research):

If Cary Grant were alive, I would cold-cock him.

OK, maybe that's an exaggeration, but there were certainly plenty of moments in this film that I really felt this way. Not unlike his portrayal of Jerry Warriner in The Awful Truth, Grant's Walter Burns is so conniving and self-assured that one can't help but want to deck him. At least in His Girl Friday, he's not posing as a stand-up husband. He's pretty open about how he'll do damn near anything to get a story, including employing known felons as assistants and getting total innocents locked up to suit his professional and romantic aims. Had there not been a long period in the middle of the film when we don't see him, I may have been far more annoyed.

Like The Awful Truth, though, it wasn't necessarily Cary Grant that bugged me - it was the character. Walter Burns was written to be an amusing rogue, I suppose. I just found him bordering on contemptible.

One of the many rapid-fire dialogue scenes. It gets rather dizzying at times, and to me becomes a bit more style over substance/

Actually, a few decent laughs in there, but my fists were clenching during this stuff. For a more modern analogy, see explanation and video below.

Since His Girl Friday is by THE screwball comedy director, Howard Hawks, one shouldn't be surprised that it bears an almost hackish similarity to The Awful Truth, which is two years its senior. The romantic part of the story is almost a carbon copy of the earlier film, and the boobish fiance is even played by the same man, Ralph Bellamy. What made this one marginally more tolerable to me was that it wasn't solely about the privileged class. There are far more earthy characters in this film, which made it somewhat more engaging to me.

The crime story, while really just serving as a foil for the love story and verbal exchanges, is intriguing enough to keep things alive. While The Awful Truth had nothing more than the egocentric relationship of the Warriners, His Girl Friday has the inkling of a crime drama running through it. It's not a vast improvement, but an improvement nonetheless, in my view.

The dialogue. Good Lord. This is THE quintessential screwball film in terms of the ear-boggling dialogue that's like a ping-pong game played by two people on PCP. In one sense, it's fascinating since it's the first film I've seen from the list in which things are going so quickly that characters are talking over one another, and there's no way that a viewer can catch everything. The script is very sharp, but I felt like I was watching the film equivalent of an Yngwie Malmsteen guitar solo. Yeah, it's amazingly fast and takes immense skill and technique, yet it's often not very enjoyable, aesthetically.

Like a Malmsteen guitar solo, His Girl Friday is lightning quick, highly skilled, and often not very easy on the ears.

Big-haired, Swedish speed metal aside, I do need to mention the single biggest upgrade in this film from The Awful Truth - Rosalind Russell. She is so much more enjoyable than Irene Dunne that I can hardly describe it. Again, I believe that it came down to the character and the script to a great degree, but Russell exudes much more of an everywoman vibe that Dunne probably couldn't have done had you threatened to take away her diamonds and chiffon scarves.

This film, as much as it had in common with the spirit of The Awful Truth, was different in ways that made me further think about the screwball genre. While there is a slightly more universal appeal to it, there is still an almost mean-spirited ignorance about it. As a mentally imbalanced man's life hangs in the balance (pun intended - he's on his way to the gallows) and even escapes only to have the incompetent cops gun down a bunch of innocent civilians, Walter Burns still has plenty of time to make gags about it all. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to admire, pull for, or even laugh at the jokes of such a self-serving vulture, no matter how suave he may be. This would almost work if the film were meant as a full-on satire or farce, but it isn't. There are too many little moments of legitimate drama in relation to the condemned man for me to ignore, including his emotional girlfriend throwing herself out of a window in a suicide attempt. In my view, it's more upsetting than it is entertaining.

So there it is. Watching His Girl Friday was hardly the struggle that The Awful Truth was, but it's certainly not a film that I'll watch again. Like the latter film, though, lovers of old cinema and Cary Grant will certainly like it. I just couldn't ignore the little things that kept it from being either pure comedy or pure drama.

Take 2; or, Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some further research):

After perusing a few original and modern reviews, it's clear that the dialogue is the pumping heart that keeps this movie alive in the annals of film history. The overlapping dialogue was apparently a major innovation back in '39, and the speed of the exchanges baffled and delighted people from the get-go. Here's the original TIME review upon the film's release.

I felt a little less hyper-critical when I saw Richard Schickel's 2005 review. I especially noted his almost throw-away use of the adjective "heartless" when describing the "hilarity". I guess he found it charming; I found it a tad off-putting.

A few interesting notes. Rosalind Russell was way down the line when it came to casting. Turning down the role were well-established actresses such as Katherine Hepburn (thank God), Irene Dunne (thank Allah), Claudette Colbert, and Ginger Rogers, among others. Russell was non-plussed about it, and secretly hired her own script writer to punch up her lines, which she felt were not as sharp or witty as Cary Grant's, so that she could insert them as "ad libs". Grant caught on and would greet her every morning with "What have you got today?" Man, that guy was either the smoothest cat on the planet or a 5-star asshole.

On final note is that in the original source play, Front Page, Rosalind Russell's character was a man. I suppose Hollywood wasn't yet ready to have a star-studded movie without a love story.

That's a wrap. 19 shows down. 86 to go.

Coming Soon: The Shop Around the Corner (1940):

This is the same director as Ninotchka, which wasn't a bad film, but not my favortie thus far on this little cinematic journey. And yes, by "James Stewart," the poster means "Jimmy Stewart." We'll see just how Mr. All-American does in this one.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #15: The Awful Truth (1937)

Director: Leo McCarey

Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: none

The Story (in which I painstakingly lay out the plot; spoilers and all. Fair warning):

Jerry Warriner returns from a supposed trip to Florida to find his wife, Lucy, not at home. When she returns with her dashing music instructor, she explains that they were delayed overnight due to a car breakdown and had to stay the night in an inn. Jerry becomes suspicious and begins to level his accusations. During the snide grilling, Lucy discovers that Jerry may not have actually been in Florida. She becomes suspicious. Things get heated and the two end up filing for divorce.

The divorce proceedings come off, and the couple have only to wait out a 90-day period before it is official. During this period, Lucy starts to get friendly with her new neighbor, Dan Leeson, a kindly, if simple, rancher from Oklahoma. Jerry, under the guise of apathy, openly sabotages the blooming romance by continually highlighting the vast differences between Lucy and Dan. The marriage is off.

With Lucy and Dan's relationship over, Jerry Warriner begins to see a different lady of his own high society sect. When Lucy discovers this, she goes for a little tete-a-tete and decides to torpedo Jerry's engagement in the same way he did hers. Her method is to pose as his drunken sister at a social event and insinuate that Jerry is equally incorrigible. That marriage is off.

After this second detonation of a budding marriage and some automobile trouble, Jerry and Lucy end up stuck in their old cabin in the woods. The two mull things over, and realize that they still do love each other. Just before the 90-day deadline on their divorce, they admit their love for one another and all is peachy keen once again.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after 1 viewing & before any research on the film):

UUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Man, do I HATE screwball comedies, and this movie is screwball to the absolute core. Thing is, there are virtually no technical flaws to be found in this movie, in my view. Directing? Great. Acting? Phenomenal. Set design? Costumes? Flawless. Dialogue? Sharp as can be. Characters? Ah-HA!!! And this is where I go off.

There is nothing specific to The Awful Truth that I dislike. My problem is with almost the entire genre of "screwball" films. And I've really, really tried. I have. Over the last decade or so, I've watched about a half dozen "classic" screwball films. In pondering them, I think I can pinpoint what separates the ones that I'm OK with versus the ones that make me feel like I wasted 90 minutes of my life. Here goes...

I like It Happened One Night and My Man Godfrey. I hate Bringing Up Baby, The Awful Truth, His Girl Friday, and The Philadelphia Story. What separates them? Well, one thing is that Bringing Up Baby and The Philadelphia Story star Katherine Hepburn, who I can't stand in any role (I'll delve into this in a future post, no doubt). On top of that, though, the latter listed films seem to lack any characters who I can relate to and sympathize with. It Happened One Night had an earthy wit to it, and My Man Godfrey had William Powell, who was the absolute man. Not to mention that these two films were grounded at least a little more in everyday problems. The rest are all about high society types looking for love, cracking wise, and having "madcap hijinks" all along the way.

Here's where The Awful Truth is at its screwiest:

It's a yuk-fest, alright. I'd rather watch my cat bathe himself.

What it comes down to is that I simply didn't care one bit. The two main characters, Lucy and Jerry, are filthy rich and totally self-absorbed. Sure, they're good-looking, clever and playful, but what's the point of the film? I think I understand the appeal - it's the same reason people watch reality shows like The Celebrity Apprentice, Celebrity Rehab, or Celebrity (name of reality show here) - people are fascinated with the rich and wealthy. People are even more fascinated when the rich and wealthy make asses of themselves. I'm not one who's drawn by such things, so perhaps this contributes to my apathy for these films.

I think that this is perfectly illustrated in The Awful Truth by the way that the character Dan Lesson is portrayed. He's an Oklahoma rancher who's obviously a well-meaning, kind person, but one who lacks the cosmopolitan sophistication of Jerry and Lucy. Well, the movie makes Dan out to be an utter buffoon fit for nothing more than Jerry to cunningly embarrass and condescend to. I just wanted to pat Dan on the back and tell him, "Look, ol' hoss, you don't want nothing to do with these backwards Yankees. Get on back to ranch, do what you do best, and leave these well-dressed a-holes to themselves."

So you don't think I'm trying to destroy this film, let me reiterate that the film does what it intends to with incredible skill. In fact, the only reason it was tolerable at all to me were the strong performances of Cary Grant and Irene Dunne, though Dunne's New England affectations annoyed me a bit. Those two knew how to balance the ridiculous with the calculated very well, though the ridiculosity (it's a word now) gets to be a bit much.

The awful truth is that I can't say that this is a bad movie at all - it would be insulting to the highly skilled people who created it. But I have to give a qualified recommendation only to people who liked the films that I mentioned before in the "I hate these screwball movies" roll call. Otherwise, stay away.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love It (done after some research on the film):

After reading the many gushing reviews of this film (here's the fellow at TIME magazine's feelings), I almost feel like a cretin for disliking it so much. I don't care, though. I still don't like it.

The reasons this film gets cited as so influential are several. One is that it really launched Cary Grant's career and forged the character that he would play in essentially every movie for the rest of his life - the smooth, easy-talking, quick-witted loverman. If you've seen any of Cary Grant's other movies (Hitchcock or otherwise), you'll see the first incarnation of whatever character he played in those films in The Awful Truth. He was so damn good at it right out of the box, there's no wonder he carved such a massive place in films with it.  

Here's a mildly amusing scene that illustrates pretty much everything that I like and loathe (mostly loathe) in the film:

I was also reminded that the basic tale of The Awful Truth is ripped right out of the pages of Shakespeare; Much Ado About Nothing, mostly. That old tale had Beatrice and Benedict, two head-strong types who loved each other but wouldn't admit it, go through all kinds of shenanigans before facing the facts of their feelings. Yes, I have read that play. Yes, I have seen the Kenneth Brannagh adaptation. Yes, I hated them all.

What can I say? This is obviously a type of film that I don't like. I've tried my damnedest to figure out why, and even to have a more open mind and just enjoy the comedy. I haven't been able to do it for most of these films, though. I will be getting another chance soon, however, as His Girl Friday and The Lady Eve are coming up soon on the list. We'll see if I've vented all of my vitriol on this subject before then.

That's a wrap (Thank the Lord). 15 down. 90 shows to go.

Coming Soon: Dodsworth (1936):

I've never heard of this one, and I have no idea what to expect. These are the moments when I am often pleasantly surprised and end up discovering some of my favorite movies.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out...