Bringing
Up Baby
1938
Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant
Every
filmgoer, no matter how hard they may try to be pretentiously objective and
critical about the movies they watch, has a weak spot. Maybe a certain director, maybe a certain
actor or actress, maybe a certain genre.
Me? I have plenty. Loads, even.
And one of them, a huge one, is Cary Grant.
Cary
Grant can do no wrong. Cary Grant is
reason alone for me to watch – and most likely love – a film.
Paleontologist
Dr. David Huxley (Grant, the original GQMF) thinks he’s having a good day when
the last missing fossil for his dinosaur skeleton is found AND he’s about to
marry his boring-as-dirt fiancée Alice (Virginia Walker). But fate has other plans and soon, while
trying to solicit donations for his museum, he meets madcap heiress Susan Vance
(Hepburn) who starts by stealing his golf ball, then steals his car, then rips
his suit jacket, then tries to get him to take care of a pet leopard, then
steals his clothes and makes him wear marabou-trimmed nighties and ill-fitting
equestrian costumes.
When
it comes to screwball comedies, Bringing Up Baby might possibly take
the largest piece of cake in the entire world, because I don’t think it gets
much screwier than this. All hope at
sticking to a strong central and sensible plot gets thrown maniacally out the
window as soon as a leopard, of all things, gets thrown into the mix about a
third of the way through the film. It
was hardly tending towards sanity previously, what with ripped clothing and mad
dinner parties and Cary Grant riding a side board, but a leopard? And then a dog stealing a dinosaur bone? And a kooky uncle back from big game hunting
in Africa? AND THEN A SECOND LEOPARD WHO
IS NOT TAME LIKE THE FIRST ONE?!?!?!? Bringing
Up Baby does not do shenanigans by halves, oh no indeed. You want screwball? This, THIS is screwball.
Really,
though, considering this was directed by Howard Hawks, this makes sense. Hawks directed a myriad of genres of films,
but even if he was making a western (Red River, Rio Bravo) or a noir (The
Big Sleep) or a historical drama (Sergeant York), there is always a
sense of zaniness somehow, somewhere. Frankly,
it’s something I’ve come to appreciate about his films, something I actually
look forward to when I see his credit at the opening of a movie. Hawks has a habit of embracing the crazy and
being unafraid to let a situation escalate quickly and not at all
realistically, and I like that. I’ve
come to the realization in the past year that I tend to prefer films that eschew
reality. I like suspension of disbelief;
it’s a good friend that has served me well over the years. You certainly need quite a bit of suspension
of disbelief for Hawks’ Bringing Up Baby but if you’re
willing, it’ll take you on quite the ride.
On
several occasions, Bringing Up Baby’s kookiness threatens to derail completely and
fall apart at the seams, but somehow it manages to maintain forward momentum,
thanks both to Hawks and to its two legendary leads. I adore Katharine Hepburn as Susan in this
film because she is utterly bereft of seriousness. Susan is all over the place, a perfectly
addle-brained, madcap heiress. She goes
from zero to sixty in about two seconds and then maintains that speed for as
long as the scene requires it. Most
Hepburn films I’ve seen have Hepburn playing something more serious than this,
but man, is she great at playing funny as well.
And
what’s more, I like Susan’s character. I
think she’d drive me crazy in real life, but that’s the thing: she doesn’t
exist in real life, she’s a crazy fictional character from a movie that’s
practically a Looney Toons short. What I
like about Susan the most is her take-charge attitude towards… well, her entire
life. She meets David quickly, drives
him crazy, then decides that he’s in love with her, then finds out he’s
actually engaged to someone else, then she immediately decides it doesn’t
matter and by gum she’s going to do what she needs to do to win her perceived
man. It’s the not-so-hidden feminist in
me that responds incredibly well to a film from the thirties showing a woman
with a backbone. The fact that Susan is
also utterly crazy is just an added bonus. (And shoot, she goes out and catches
the un-tame leopard on her own. She’s
kind of badass.)
And
then there’s Cary Grant.
I
honestly don’t know where to begin because it’s goddamned Cary Grant. He’s perfection. Utter perfection. In everything. Ever.
EVER. And the fact that he spends
a majority of this film with that little wayward curl falling over his forehead
just makes… oh, oh no, there go my ovaries.
Blast.
Trying
to be a bit more objective, I love Cary Grant in Bringing Up Baby because
he isn’t afraid to play the fool. David
Huxley spends most of the movie in over his head and dumbfounded, and Grant
plays befuddled incredibly well. David
walks around in a daze, and I just can’t get enough of seeing Cary Grant –
usually so damn suave and sophisticated – taking pratfalls, wearing silly
negligees, and exerting utterly no control over a zany situation. The stuttering and hapless Cary Grant, contrasted
with, for example, his role as uber-serious and sadistic government agent in
Notorious, is a reminder that Grant wasn’t just famous for his looks. Dude had it in him to play such a great
variety of roles. And while I think I
personally prefer my Grant suave and debonair, I do rather adore him all geeked
out, bespectacled, and nebbish as well.
Basically,
as I said at the beginning, Cary Grant can do no wrong. And him continually saying "intercostal clavicle" is like a gift from heaven.
There
is little in this world I find sexier than my Holy Trinity of Classic Hollywood
Actors, of which Grant is most definitely a part, and I love watching him stand
absolutely no chance against the force of nature that is Katharine Hepburn in
this film. This film is fun and zany and absolutely unrealistic but for me, that is its charm.
Arbitrary
Rating: 9/10.
