Bringing Up Baby (1938)

I just watched Bringing Up Baby, and I can say with complete honesty that I haven't had that much cinematic fun in ages. In the broad sub-genres of comedy, I must say that the screwball comedy is one of my favorites (and the one I like the most is My Man Godfrey). They are so unabashedly goofy, with the most ridiculous of characters and gags, that trying to suppress laughter when viewing one would be akin to stopping a volcano from erupting. But my main reason for loving them is that language is the dominant force behind the humor, and beautiful, complex sentences are spouted out rapidly but fluidly, crisply. That is why only the finest of actors can pull off that comedic timing.

"The love impulse in men frequently reveals itself in terms of conflict."

As with the bulk of screwballs, Bringing Up Baby has to do with high-class, supposedly well-behaved individuals acting like monkeys or small children. It's no wonder that they were so popular in the Depression, when people would flock to theaters to have their worries melt away for a few cents, and watch the wealthier people get entangled in absurd situations. In this case, the plot tells of Dr. David Huxley (Cary Grant), a mild-mannered, straight-laced paleontologist who only needs one more bone to complete the skeleton of a Brontosaurus, and is soon to be married to the all-too serious Alice Swallow (Virginia Walker). To add to the pressure, he also must make a good impression on a wealthy woman (May Robson) so she will donate one million dollars to the museum, when he encounters the frenetic Susan Vance (Katharine Hepburn) and her leopard, Baby.

The only other film from director Howard Hawks that I've seen is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), which I do not think is a good representation of his versatile filmography that spanned from noir to gangster films to westerns. I have to look into him more! In this film, he keeps the pace quick and clipped, a great style for such a skillful screenplay. Good directors can only get the best out everyone involved in film production, and Hawks certainly casts such brilliant shades over the already sublime actors.

"Now, don't lose your head, Susan." "My what?"
"Your head." "I've got my head,  I've lost my leopard!"

You theoretical readers haven't known me long enough to know of my immobilizing love for Cary Grant, as well as most actors far beyond my years. I think the first film I saw with him in it was his early role in She Done Him Wrong (1933), but that hardly gave me a hint of his capabilities. As opposed to his suave debonair roles, he is completely exasperated throughout this whole movie. He's an introverted, bespectacled professor-type caught in a whirlpool of mad antics, and yet he kept me laughing throughout. He delivers ever line with his usual, mid-Atlantic flair, curt and deadpan. When Susan accidentally tears his coat, his discontent, his complete longing for normalcy, is palpable. Such men do not belong in wacky situations, but that is the source of the humor. And, wow, does he look great in those glasses.

On the other hand, it took me some time to warm up to Katharine Hepburn at the start of my cinephilia career. Part of my reluctance stemmed form the fact that she won the Oscar for Best Actress in 1967 (her third out of four, the ultimate record) for Guess Who's Coming to Dinner over Audrey Hepburn for Wait Until Dark, and also that she got on my nerves in The African Queen (1951). But all that changed when I saw her in The Philadelphia Story (1940), and now I can't get enough of her. I simply cannot believe that her role as Susan Vance was her first comedic role, and that she actually struggled with comic acting. She is absolutely genius. Coming from anyone else's mouth, her lines may have sounded nonsensical, and they are, but watching her, I got the sense that the character actually believed what she was saying.  In every scene, she is so poised and (usually) unruffled that the nutcase she truly is comes as almost a shock. And that voice! It's like the purring of a New England cat.

"How can all these things happen to just one person?"

Speaking of felines, Baby the leopard is such an interesting feature, and so adorable! Every screwball comedy needs something to make it discernible from the masses, and a leopard does the trick excellently. Supporting characters can often steal the show, and Baby is no exception. It's no wonder he's the main component of the title.

Bringing Up Baby has everything I love about movies, especially ones from the 30's; a sophisticated atmosphere disguising zany hijinks, actors who handle sharp, almost masterful dialogue with the utmost deft, and good old laughter. A movie that reminds me why I love movies, especially screwballs, now that's something to hold dear.