Posts Tagged ‘Cary Grant’

Film moments #24: The Philadelphia Story

22 September 2017

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The Philadelphia Story is a classic film, a romantic comedy starring Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant and James Stewart, who won an Oscar for it. The romantic comedy bit: Hepburn plays Tracy Lord, a member of one of Philadelphia’s swankiest families, is about to remarry, but her first husband, C.K. Dexter Haven, played by Cary Grant, smuggles into the house party a reporter (Stewart) and photographer (played by Ruth Hussey) from the gossip magazine Spy, to get his own back on his ex-wife. It’s a fine film and I’d be completely happy to watch it again tomorrow.

The film is adapted from a play by Philip Barry that Hepburn also starred in, and it relaunched her then becalmed Hollywood career. The reason she’s surrounded by bankable leading actors is that Warners was trying to insure the success of the film, as it were.

Much of the comedy comes from the contrast from Hepburn’s high life (the musical remake is called High Society) and the more mundane worlds of Stewart and Hussey, where people actually have to worry about details like money. This is New Deal humour, with Stewart a year on from his breakthrough movie, Mr Smith Goes to Washington, and arguably some of the earlier character washes through into Philadelphia Story. Either way, he and Hussey stand in for the audience in the face of the lavish wealth that’s on display in the story.

The script by Donald Ogden Stewart purrs along; the plot is tightly constructed; and the story is about climbing down off the pedestal and learning to live with human frailty.

A couple of moments. The first is in the office of Spy magazine, as reporter Macaulay Connor (Stewart) and photographer Liz Imbrie (Hussey) are summoned to the publisher’s office to be given the assignment and to meet Dexter Haven. Just because it says a lot about both character and the relationship of the two characters. Here’s the script; it doesn’t seem to be online as a clip.

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The second, as Hepburn unfurls the wedding present that Cary Grant has left for her, a scale model of the boat he’s built that they’d sailed together when newly married. The scene tells you everything you need to know about the triangle between Hepburn and her past and future husbands.

The sequence that plays out between Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn just before the wedding ceremony at the end of the film (spoiler, but the link is here) was clearly filed away by the screenwriter Richard Curtis at some point, since a version pops up in Four Weddings and a Funeral. If you’re going to steal, steal from the best.

The poster at the top of the post is via Wikimedia. 

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Film moment #17: Monkey Business (1952)

30 July 2017

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I’m not sure if Monkey Business quite counts as a screwball comedy, since there’s not really enough about money in it, and the plot lacks the relentlessness of the true screwball, in which each turn tightens the storyline.

But it is certainly an oddball comedy. It is directed by Howard Hawks, and stars Cary Grant as research chemist Dr Fulton, Ginger Rogers (in an acting role) as his wife Edwina, Charles Coburn as the boss, Mr Oxly, and Marilyn Monroe as Oxly’s not-completely-competent secretary, Miss Laurel. As Oxly says, “Anyone can type.” The screenplay is by Ben Hecht, Charles Lederer, and I. A. L. Diamond.

Fulton is working on a formula that makes people younger again, and pretty much all of the jokes in the film are variations on this. Maybe there’s something of the era in this plot, since it was made just as the idea of the “teenager” is about to transform post-war American society. As he explains to Edwina after he’s tried it out on himself:

“I took a dose of the formula and within twenty minutes I started behaving like a college boy.”

Anyway, the moment: having taken his own experimental formula, Fulton has to go out and buy a jacket and a new car. Sure, there’s a lot of back projection here, but it’s a fine sequence, with some good truck-based gags and a sense of jeopardy, and reprised shortly afterwards, with more jeopardy, as the formula wears off.

Rogers turns out to be a comedienne with good timing, as when she enquires about the lipstick that Miss Laurel has planted on her husband’s cheek during their afternoon away from the plant:

EDWINA: By the way, who’s lipstick is it?
FULTON: What’s her name’s, you know, Oxly’s secretary.
EDWINA: Oh, you mean that little pinup girl? Very cute.
FULTON: Sort of, but half infant.
EDWINA: Not the half that’s visible.

The whole film is online here.

Moment #11: North by Northwest (1959)

29 May 2017

Before the invention of VHS, it was an act of dedication to find and watch classic films; sometimes you would catch a ‘live’ TV screening, otherwise it was a trip to a cinema that cared enough about film to show them. Now, a film like Hitchcock’s North by Northwest*, with advertising executive Roger O. Thornhill (Cary Grant) on the run and all at sea, can be found everywhere.

The theme of the “wrong man” who ends up on the run, both tying to solve the mystery and to clear his name, recurs in Hitchcock’s films. Think of The 39 Steps*. But in North by Northwest, in a way that is both more plausible,and more sinister, he’s being left out there as a decoy.

Most of its big set-pieces are well-known; the murder at the United Nations; the attack by the crop duster plane; the final set-piece among the American Presidents on Mount McKinley.

The moment: the sequence before the attack by the crop duster plane, which builds the suspense, and oh, so, slowly.

It’s worth breaking it down a little to see what Hitchcock did.

The sequence starts with a high static fixed shot, probably from a crane, looking back along the road. The bus that Thornhill/Grant is on appears in the distance, and the shot allows it to drive all the way, to the bus stop at the bottom, where Grant gets off, and the bus leaves again. We get the picture: this is the middle of nowhere. It runs for 48″.

There’ then a series of shots, also static, that intercut between Grant by the side of the road, the few cars passing on the road, and the flatness of the Plains. We (spoiler) still think that he’s here to meet “Kaplan”. This sequence runs through 27 shots and lasts 1’52”.

Now something happens. A car appears from a side road (more a track), and stops at the junction, on the other side of the road, where a man gets out. There’s a fabulous shot of the two men, on opposite sides of the road, the  horizon no more than a quarter of the way up the screen. Grant, eventually, eventually, walks across the road towards him; there’s an immediate contrast between Grant’s expensive grey Manhattan suit and the man’s cheap brown suit and hat. Ernest Lehmann’s dialogue is laconic, as we hear the plane for the first time.

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The scene ends as it began, with a bus heading away along the highway, and Thornhill/Grant standing by the roadside. It is also worth mentioning the sound design, although it wouldn’t have been called sound design in 1959. The audio during this whole sequence is “natural” sound; the cars on the road, doors being opened and closed, Grant’s shoes clicking on the dirt as he looks around. No music. In fact, there’s no music until after the plane has hit the truck.

The sequence lasts for just over five minutes; longer, in fact, than the scene in which the crop duster plane attacks Grant. When we call Hitchcock the master of suspense, it’s because of sequences like this, which signal to the audience a sense of foreboding and makes the action more intense when it starts.

Most of the sequence is here.

Moment#6: The Awful Truth (1937)

8 May 2017

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Moment #6: Still on the screwball trail, this is one of the BFI’s ‘ten great’ screwball comedies. It won its director, Leo McCarey, an Oscar, leading woman Irene Dunne an Oscar nomination, and established Cary Grant as a leading man. And watching it, you can see why: it’s wonderfully written, sharply plotted, moves along at pace, is packed full of fine comic moments, several involving their dog, and it takes you, eventually, to the place you want to be. As a scriptwriter I once worked with observed, you need to take the audience where it wants to go, but not by the route they expect to get there.

The film is set, mostly, in the ninety days from the date of the divorce. I could have picked any one of a dozen moments or more from the film, but the sequence that sets up the plot is a sublime piece of staging. Jerry Warriner, played by Grant, has been away, apparently but most likely not in Florida, and he returns home with some friends to find his wife Lucy (Irene Dunne) away. Well, he finds out that she’s away quite slowly.

First, one of the women in the group scans the table with the mail on it and observes that there are some letters on the table for Lucy, some from yesterday.

JERRY: That’s the trouble with most marriages today. People are always imagining things. (Beat) The road to Reno is paved with suspicions. The first thing you know is they all end up in a divorce court.

GUEST: The broad-minded man from the Rio Grande.

JERRY: If you think I’m going to get a chance to prove my broadmindedness any minute you’re crazy. No, Lucy’s really up at her Aunt Patsy’s cabin, I’ll bet on it.

And Jerry’s on a roll, extolling the virtues of Aunt Patsy’s cabin as we see Aunt Patsy arrive in shot behind him, seen by everyone in the room except for Jerry.

AUNT PATSY (her first words): Any idea where Lucy is? You know she invited me to this…

At which point Lucy arrives, looking stunning in white, followed a moment or two later by her singing teacher, and a long story about how they’d been on their way home from a concert when the car broke down and they’d had to spend the night in “the nastiest little inn you ever saw,” insisting of course that it was all completely innocent.

LUCY: Can’t have a happily married life if you’re always going to be suspicious of each other.

JERRY: Right again […]

LUCY: But I don’t know why I’m boring all of you with private matters.

GUEST: Oh, we’re not bored.

LUCY: No one’s interested in mine except for Jerry, and he knows it’s innocent, just as he knows (pause), well, that he just got back from Florida.

Part of the ambiguity is probably to dance around the restrictions imposed on what films could show or say about sex, under the Hays Code, but the effect is to make the film funnier.

One of the moments I could have chosen is the scene in which Lucy and her new fiance, Dan Leeson, played by Ralph Bellamy, run into Cary Grant at a night club. This clip gives a sense of both the film’s dialogue and the comedy, and a version of this scene plays out in a different way later on in the film at a decisive point in the story.

Intolerable Cruelty riffs off The Awful Truth in several places, and I couldn’t also help wonder if Marilyn’s iconic scene in The Seven Year Itch borrowed from it. Its director, Billy Wilder, would certainly have been familiar with The Awful Truth, and in their way the two films have a similar theme.