July 29, 2023

Bringing Up Baby.

Review #2060: Bringing Up Baby.

Cast: 
Katharine Hepburn (Susan Vance), Cary Grant (Dr. David Huxley), May Robson (Elizabeth Carlton Random), Charles Ruggles (Major Horace Applegate), Walter Catlett (Constable Slocum), Barry Fitzgerald (Aloysius Gogarty), Fritz Feld (Dr. Fritz Lehman), Virginia Walker (Alice Swallow), George Irving (Alexander Peabody), Leona Roberts (Hannah Gogarty), Tala Birell (Mrs. Lehman), and John Kelly (Elmer) Directed by Howard Hawks (#951 - The Big Sleep, #1352 - His Girl Friday, #1399 - Rio Bravo, #1687 - O. Henry's Full House and #1773 - Red River)

Review: 
"I think the picture had a great fault and I learned an awful lot from that. There were no normal people in it. Everyone you met was a screwball and since that time I have learned my lesson and I don’t intend ever again to make everybody crazy."

In 1937, Howard Hawks read a short story in the magazine Collier's that had been written by Hagar Wilde. He laughed so much that he wanted to make a film of the story, which I'm sure you know was called Bringing Up Baby. He had time to spare, considering that he was being stalled out in making "Gunga Din" (which was worked out eventually by George Stevens). Wilde wrote the story and co-wrote the screenplay with Dudley Nichols (known for his structure work with films such as The Informer three years earlier) that retained a chase for a docile cat (panther in the story, leopard in the movie) in the wilderness of Connecticut. Look, sometimes you have to say audiences don't always know what the hell they want. This is especially true here for a film that only would make a small profit upon subsequent re-release. Perhaps most famously, Hepburn would be referred to as "box office poison" by the Independent Theatre Owners of America a couple of months after the release of this film in 1938, who referred her as having an excellent performance but also referring to it and another film in Stage Door as flops when closing out by saying "Sound judgment and good business sense are valuable assets in an industry that is far from being an art." Believe it or not, Hawks actually had Harold Lloyd in mind first for the lead role played by Grant. The studio rejected that suggestion and offered the role to a handful of others that rejected it. Lloyd apparently told Hawks that the film was the "best constructed comedy" he ever saw, which I'm sure has something to do with Grant and his portrayal that surely was modeled after Lloyd (right down to the glasses). Walter Catlett (a veteran of vaudeville and a number of films since the early 20th century) was brought in to help out Hepburn and her early jitters with doing comedy and ended up having a key role in the film as well. This was the second of four films with Grant and Hepburn after Sylvia Scarlett (1935), Holiday (1938) and The Philadelphia Story (1940), and it was her work in the latter of the four that resulted in Hepburn's first of four Academy Award wins, proving the old lesson that sometimes words on print really are worth less than toilet paper.

It is a profoundly silly movie, the screwiest kind of screwball movies that could only be done by a craftsman of energetic filmmaking. Hawks may have thought that the film had a few too many zany characters, but the main thing that is told here is that at the end of the day, it is better to enjoy life with free-spirited energy rather than try to stick with dignity. Hawks later stated that the way he achieved such vast pace is by pacing the actors "quickly within the frame rather than cross cutting fast". This results in a zany film filled with consistent energy from beginning to end that delivers everything you would think comes in these types of films without failing in the goal of worthwhile comedy. The 102-minute runtime is the ideal time to try and wrap these odd little characters for one wholly watchable feature that never plods in how it presents these two main people and the winding road they are tied to in amusing predicaments, complete with a select handful of ad-libs. Grant was already a comedic name on the rise with The Awful Truth (1937), because he really was quite the charmer who could hold his own with any kind of material and any kind of requirement, which in this case involves flustered panic. You can see pretty easily from the first sequence involving old bones and where his energies have to lie with such vaunted people. Hepburn is a free spirit of the highest order in impulse, one who has such a great chemistry with Grant that never leaves our mind from the very get-go. They make for such a great pair together, one zigging where the other is zagging without a false note detected among their interactions or ones where Grant is left trying to spin out of a spinning top of absurd situations, one of which involves a torn dress and a hat and another involving waiting to be heard in the middle of a convoluted explanation. They make a quality pair in both timing and, eventually, romance. Robson (a veteran of the stage who became a noted film presence at the ripe age of her seventies) amuses as the dignified straight one among the proceedings to be accompanied by Ruggles and his befuddled attitude among would-be hunters. They are swept up into probably the most interesting of all confounding situations when it comes to Catlett and the belief of just who is really who and the case of one (or two? or none?) leopard. It is the kind of film with quality animal performances (Nissa, the leopard who is used to play both the docile and circus leopard and Skippy, already familiar from The Thin Man) to go with quality timing that practically is as timeless as one would hope to expect in a comedy of screwy manners. The only real debate is just how damn good it is within the career of Howard Hawks and his immeasurable qualities in filmmaking.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

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