"Bringing Up Baby" is the standard for timeless screwball comedy, clever, charming, with tons of heart. It's also probably the most satisfying comedy in both Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant's careers, together and apart, which is really saying something.
Grant plays David Huxley, a nebbishy dinosaur expert who plans to get a million dollars for his museum and marry his icy fiancée Alice. Hepburn plays ditzy but determined Susan Vance, who sets her sights on upsetting Huxley's plans so she can have him to herself.
What could be a protracted exercise in frustration comedy, or else a humorless excursion into the stalking habits of the rich and nutty, is made joyous instead by the way Hepburn pulls us into her zany character and makes us root for her to reel Huxley in. After telling David, who wants nothing to do with her, that she has a leopard in her apartment, Susan trips in mid-call and then gets the bright idea of pretending she's being mauled by the beast.
"Oh, David, the leopard!" she screams, rubbing the phone's mouthpiece against a fireplace grate for added terror.
David takes the bait. "Be brave, Susan. I'll be there!" he shouts as he trips for the door. Kate's merry smirk is the perfect scene-capper.
Susan is brave, in her convention- and logic-defying way, and one can trace the line from Jo March to Grace Quigley right through her in the panoply of strong, feminist-icon Kate Hepburn roles. But while Hepburn was amusing in other parts, she was never as much so as she was here, taking pratfalls and throwing off non-sequiturs like a Vaudeville clown. Warm, too: I think one of the film's secret strengths is the notion a nebbishy guy could end up with a beautiful, self-assured woman despite his best and worst efforts. The hell with macho: This is one romantic comedy where the guy winds up fainting in the gal's arms.
Of course it helps if the nebbish looks like Cary Grant in glasses. Grant did play fusty characters in other films, but there's something about him with the pretty but frigid Alice (Virginia Walker, director Howard Hawks' sister-in-law but a good performance anyway from someone not much seen again), who tells him there will be no honeymoon or "domestic entanglements of any kind." "This," she says, gesturing at the brontosaurus skeleton he has been painfully assembling over the past few years, "will be our child." "Oh, it's nice," David replies, sadly and submissively. He is in definite need of screwball intervention.
The film is one of those classics that could only be made in the 1930s, when everything could be played in a light and airy fashion without any pretense of reality. 1972's "What's Up, Doc" is a classy replay of "Baby" in spirit if not script, but while I enjoy that film nearly as much, it's not hard to see the problem director Peter Bogdanovich had on his hands trying to make us accept such nutty behavior in living color.
Bogdanovich's commentary on the "Baby" DVD is insightful and worthwhile, and I agree with him that the subplot involving Barry Fitzgerald's drunken gardener is the weak link in this otherwise fine film. I also worry about poor George playing with Baby; does anyone else notice that nasty gash on the poor dog's side? I wonder how many "Georges" Hawks went through before he got the scene as filmed.
The other secondary characters are terrific all the way through, especially May Robson as Aunt Elizabeth (the one apparently sane character until she complains about waiting for her new pet) and Walter Catlett as the constable, which I have a soft spot for beyond his beetle brows and his way of slapping his hands together like a mad auctioneer. Anyone else notice he shares a last name with Harvey Keitel's lawman in "Thelma & Louise"? Given Kate's lawbreaking performance here, I wonder if that was intentional...
Grant plays David Huxley, a nebbishy dinosaur expert who plans to get a million dollars for his museum and marry his icy fiancée Alice. Hepburn plays ditzy but determined Susan Vance, who sets her sights on upsetting Huxley's plans so she can have him to herself.
What could be a protracted exercise in frustration comedy, or else a humorless excursion into the stalking habits of the rich and nutty, is made joyous instead by the way Hepburn pulls us into her zany character and makes us root for her to reel Huxley in. After telling David, who wants nothing to do with her, that she has a leopard in her apartment, Susan trips in mid-call and then gets the bright idea of pretending she's being mauled by the beast.
"Oh, David, the leopard!" she screams, rubbing the phone's mouthpiece against a fireplace grate for added terror.
David takes the bait. "Be brave, Susan. I'll be there!" he shouts as he trips for the door. Kate's merry smirk is the perfect scene-capper.
Susan is brave, in her convention- and logic-defying way, and one can trace the line from Jo March to Grace Quigley right through her in the panoply of strong, feminist-icon Kate Hepburn roles. But while Hepburn was amusing in other parts, she was never as much so as she was here, taking pratfalls and throwing off non-sequiturs like a Vaudeville clown. Warm, too: I think one of the film's secret strengths is the notion a nebbishy guy could end up with a beautiful, self-assured woman despite his best and worst efforts. The hell with macho: This is one romantic comedy where the guy winds up fainting in the gal's arms.
Of course it helps if the nebbish looks like Cary Grant in glasses. Grant did play fusty characters in other films, but there's something about him with the pretty but frigid Alice (Virginia Walker, director Howard Hawks' sister-in-law but a good performance anyway from someone not much seen again), who tells him there will be no honeymoon or "domestic entanglements of any kind." "This," she says, gesturing at the brontosaurus skeleton he has been painfully assembling over the past few years, "will be our child." "Oh, it's nice," David replies, sadly and submissively. He is in definite need of screwball intervention.
The film is one of those classics that could only be made in the 1930s, when everything could be played in a light and airy fashion without any pretense of reality. 1972's "What's Up, Doc" is a classy replay of "Baby" in spirit if not script, but while I enjoy that film nearly as much, it's not hard to see the problem director Peter Bogdanovich had on his hands trying to make us accept such nutty behavior in living color.
Bogdanovich's commentary on the "Baby" DVD is insightful and worthwhile, and I agree with him that the subplot involving Barry Fitzgerald's drunken gardener is the weak link in this otherwise fine film. I also worry about poor George playing with Baby; does anyone else notice that nasty gash on the poor dog's side? I wonder how many "Georges" Hawks went through before he got the scene as filmed.
The other secondary characters are terrific all the way through, especially May Robson as Aunt Elizabeth (the one apparently sane character until she complains about waiting for her new pet) and Walter Catlett as the constable, which I have a soft spot for beyond his beetle brows and his way of slapping his hands together like a mad auctioneer. Anyone else notice he shares a last name with Harvey Keitel's lawman in "Thelma & Louise"? Given Kate's lawbreaking performance here, I wonder if that was intentional...