Review: Twentieth Century (1934)

* * *
Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: John Barrymore, Carole Lombard

They don't make 'em like they used to. Take the great Howard Hawks, add the incomparable John Barrymore, and for good measure mix in the divine Carole Lombard, and you get Twentieth Century, one of the major works of the screwball comedy era. While not among my personal favorites of the genre, I can't deny that Twentieth Century is a masterfully put together film, one which manages to have Hawks' signature high energy even though the narrative is almost claustrophobically contained, and one which finds a way to allow both the lead actor (in one of his last great roles) and the lead actress (in one of her first great roles) to play the "crazy," scene stealing half of the romantic pairing and make that work. While not really embraced at the time of its release, it has since rightly become recognized as one of the era's finest.

Ebert's Greats #10: Red River (1948)

* * * *
Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: John Wayne, Montgomery Clift

John Wayne is probably most closely associated with John Ford, for whom he starred in such classics as The Searchers, Stagecoach, and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon amongst others, but it was Howard Hawks who brought out one of Wayne’s best performances (Ford’s reaction upon seeing Red River? “I didn’t know the big son of a bitch could act!”). Red River is one of the great classic westerns, a grand entertainment (the stampede scene alone makes the film worth seeing) and a finely wrought character film.

Review: To Have and Have Not (1944)

* * * 1/2
Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall

“You know how to whistle, don’t you Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.”

Not even Bogart had a clever rejoinder for that one. To Have and Have Not, besides just being downright enjoyable, is an important film for being the debut of one of the big screen's best pairings: Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Without that electric pairing the film may well have been a retread of Bogart's earlier and very successful romantic war drama, never rising to the occassion of becoming a film in its own right. Of course, being directed by Howard Hawks couldn't hurt either.

From the opening credits – laid out over a shot a map in a way that’s reminiscent of Bogart’s previous hit – the film seems intent on emulating the Casablanca formula. Take a foreign location, a reluctant hero, a blonde love interest, a tricky political situation, a colorful supporting cast and a club with plenty of music and, well, here's looking at you, kid. The plot of To Have and Have Not is similar in many ways to Casablanca in that it takes place in a Vichy occupied French territory and centres on an American who is intent on having nothing to do with resistance efforts but finds himself drawn into the fight for the sake of a woman. There are some important differences, however, not least of which is that the affections of the love interest are never in question and, perhaps because of that, she's got a lot more spunk.

The protagonist in this one is Harry Morgan, captain of a fishing boat and occasionally known as “Steve,” and the love interest is Slim (Lauren Bacall), a young woman in bad financial straits who sashays into his life after stealing a wallet belonging to one of his clients. They engage in a bit of back and forth before being interrupted by the Free French fighters, who want make a deal to use Harry’s boat. Harry isn’t interested at first, but when his passport and all his cash are confiscated by the corrupt police, he decides that he has no choice but to take the chance. Besides, he wants to give Slim the means of getting back to the States - although she has other ideas.

It goes without saying that the chemistry between Bogart and Bacall is off the charts. They play off each other with a great deal of ease, clearly enjoying their interplay as much as we, the audience, do. It’s surprising that this was Bacall’s first screen role (and that she was only 19 when filming) because she brings such self-assurance to the character. Played by Bacall, Slim is a woman of intelligence and resourcefulness, in control of her sexuality at all times, except for a few moments when she’s alone with Harry. There’s a lot of fire in this character which perfectly complements Bogart’s more laid-back style of taking care of business.

The film itself, directed by the great Howard Hawks and loosely adapted from a novella by Ernest Hemmingway, runs at a good pace, never taking itself too seriously but managing, nevertheless, to remain grounded in reality. Through the caper at the story’s centre the film manages some subtle commentary on political/military attitudes amongst Allied forces, most obvious in an exchange between Harry and the Free French fighter he’s hired to ferry on his boat. When a patrol boat happens upon them Harry’s ready to fight while the Free French member is almost immediately prepared to surrender – a fact which Harry wastes no time in mentioning and which can be read as a commentary on an undercurrent of U.S.-French relations during WWII (especially since the film takes place "shortly after the fall of France"). The film doesn’t delve too deeply into this particular aspect of the story, but of course the story itself is really just an excuse for the romantic sparring at which Bogart and Bacall excel.

To Have and Have Not is an immensely enjoyable film to watch, one that’s fast-paced and well-acted and just generally quite charming. It doesn't have the gravitas of Casablanca, nor is it the best of the four Bogart & Bacall outings (that would be The Big Sleep), but it's a well-made lark of a film with many memorable moments. It’s definitely a must-see.

100 Days, 100 Movies: Bringing Up Baby (1938)

Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn

Cary Grant is often accused of only ever playing himself, but Bringing Up Baby proves that old standby wrong. This isn’t the dashing, charming Cary Grant of legend. This is Cary Grant as the straight-man, the punchline, and, for lack of a better word, the dork. He’s very different in this film that is possibly the screwballiest of all screwball comedies. Throw in Katherine Hepburn as the zany leading lady, a wonderful supporting cast of character actors, and the tight, well-timed direction of Howard Hawks, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide classic.

Grant is David Huxley, a paleontologist who has spent the last four years building a brontosaurus and is engaged to his colleague, Miss Swallow (Virginia Walker). The film opens at an important juncture in his life: he’s getting married the following day, the final bone of the brontosaurus has just been uncovered and delivered, and that afternoon he has to make a presentation to Mr. Peabody (George Irving), an attorney whom David hopes will convince his client to donate a million dollars to the museum. The meeting takes place at a golf course where David is quickly hijacked by care-free heiress Susan Vance (Hepburn), who doesn’t much care if she finishes her game with his ball and then drives off in his car instead of her own.

David and Susan meet again later that evening and chaos once again ensues, eventually resulting in both their outfits being ripped and the two having to make a hasty retreat together. Susan finds out that David has been trying to talk to Peabody, whom Susan knows and affectionately refers to as “Boopie.” Against his better judgment, David agrees to go with Susan to see Boopie, which ends badly when Susan accidentally knocks Boupie out as she tries to hit his window with a rock. David is determined to have nothing more to do with Susan, but she now has a problem. You see, she’s come into possession of this leopard named Baby…

The plot of Bringing Up Baby is very silly, but the tone of the film completely supports that so that as an audience, you just go with it. Grant and Hepburn, who had starred together previously in Sylvia Scarlett, and would star together again in Holiday and The Philadelphia Story, have an easy chemistry together and make it look like they had a lot of fun making the film. So, too, do the supporting players who go all out in their creation of finely tuned comic characters, each memorable in his or her own way. It is, essentially, an ensemble effort, though Hepburn and Grant are clearly the stars.

It’s difficult to choose the film’s funniest moment. There’s David and Susan – who have Susan’s dog with them - trying to sing Baby down off of a roof, resulting in kind of a quartet when Baby and the dog join in; the dinner party scene in which Susan’s aunt, Elizabeth Random (May Robson) and her guest Maj. Applegate (Charles Ruggles) become increasingly disturbed by the way David – whom, thanks to Susan, they think is Mr. Bone, a big game hunter – keeps getting up from the table to follow the dog outside (earlier in the day the dog had taken the brontosaurus bone and buried it somewhere in the yard); the scenes of David and Susan out hunting for Baby, who has gone missing and whom they mistakenly believe to have been captured by the circus, who have a leopard of their own (this might be the only film to take the trope of mistaken identity and apply it to leopards) that Susan releases. Forced to choose, I would have to go with the scene where David and Susan are in jail and Susan plays at being a gangster in order to trick the local Sheriff and make her escape. Hepburn isn’t an actor you would naturally associate with comedy, at least not of the zany, madcap kind, but she really does excel in this film, knowing when to play it up and when to pull back (when asked by her aunt what “Mr. Bone” hunts, she replies in a hilariously understated way, “Animals I should think”). It’s a shame that Bringing Up Baby was such a commercial disaster when it was released, because otherwise we might have gotten to see this side of Hepburn on more occasions.

Bringing Up Baby doesn’t offer any deep insights into the human condition, and it’s basic plot won’t surprise you (stodgy intellectual meets wildchild who turns his life upside down but turns out to be perfect for him), but it will entertain you. Just sit back, relax, and let it take you on the hilarious journey from Point A (the brontosaurus is almost complete) to Point B (the brontosaurus has completely collapsed). You won’t regret it.

100 Days, 100 Movies: His Girl Friday (1940)

Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: Cary Grant, Rosalind Russell

If I had to describe this film in one word, it would be fast. It runs at a clip that is difficult to imagine; you have to see it (and hear it) to believe it. This Howard Hawks classic is more proof that Cary Grant can work with anyone, and provides the fabulous Rosalind Russell with the kind of smart, dizzy character she can play like no other. So hold on to your hat, because this one’s a rollercoaster.

His Girl Friday takes place over the course of about half a day and begins with Russell as Hildy Johnson, a newspaper reporter and recent divorcée. She returns to New York with some news for her Editor and ex-husband, Walter Burns (Grant): she’s getting married and she’s quitting the paper. Walter is distraught, not only because Hildy has found someone else but because he’s losing his best reporter. The only thing to do, obviously, is sabotage her relationship and convince her that she can’t give up the paper… or Walter, for that matter. The first scene between Hildy and Walter sets the tone for the rest of the film, with the two engaging in some barbed, fast-talking sparring. Russell and Grant don’t have the best romantic chemistry (although it’s passable), but they have a comedic chemistry that’s hard to beat.

In the role Bruce Baldwin, the other man, Hawks cast Ralph Bellamy who was no stranger to playing the nice guy who loses the girl to Grant’s caddish charmer, having starred opposite Grant and Irene Dunne in The Awful Truth in 1937. The staid and straight-forward Bellamy is a good foil to the zany antics of Grant and Russell, and does more than just set the pins up for the two stars to knock down. His simple, sincere delivery of lines like “Mighty nice little town, Albany. They’ve got the state capitol there, you know” ensures that he gets his share of the laughs as well.

If nothing else, His Girl Friday is a testament to the talent of character actors from Hollywood’s Golden Age, and of the ability of old Hollywood to use them correctly. Grant and Russell are the main attractions, of course, but some of the best scenes are ones that neither appears in. There are numerous scenes in the press room at the court house where a gang of reporters hang out playing cards and speculating about a trial they’re all covering, one which Walter used to get Hildy back in the game: Earl Williams (John Qualan) has killed a police officer and has been sentenced to be hanged, but may be reprieved depending on the decision of a psychiatrist, and on Governor, who has been using the case as a political ploy in the upcoming election. The reporters aren’t a just a “group,” but are individual characters whom we come to distinguish from one another according to their differing reporting styles. Through them, the film casts a cynical eye on the way news is made and reported – specifically how it’s filtered to the public depending on the source (Walter is also used to express this same cynicism, as when he calls his Copy Editor to implore “Never mind the Chinese earthquake for heaven's sake...Look, I don't care if there's a million dead...No, no, junk the Polish Corridor...Take all those Miss America pictures off Page Six...Take Hitler and stick him on the funny page...No, no, leave the rooster story alone - that's human interest”).

But the film also makes great use of Clarence Kobb as the Mayor, Gene Lockhart as Sheriff Peter B. (“‘B’ for brains”) Hartwell, Abner Biberman as Walter’s henchman Louie (who at Walter’s behest manages to get Bruce arrested on three separate occasions and kidnap his mother), and, in a small but memorable role, Billy Gilbert as Joe Pettibone, whom the Mayor and the Sheriff make the mistake of attempting to bribe. All of these actors add something indelible to the film as a whole. Thinking over the film afterwards, it’s amazing to realize how much of it Grant and Russell aren’t in and how you hardly notice because you’re being so thoroughly entertained even in their absence.

It will come as no surprise that Walter and Hildy end up back together at the end, both as colleagues and as a couple, but that’s okay. It’s also okay that there hasn’t actually been any growth in their relationship that would suggest that it would work the second time around (they spent their first honeymoon in a coal mine, covering a story; as the film ends they’ll be spending their second honeymoon covering a strike in Albany). Like I said, their chemistry is more of the buddy variety than the romantic one. What matters is what happens between start and finish, and given that it’s running time is only 92 minutes, a whole lot happens in this tightly wound and fast-moving comedic masterpiece.

100 Days, 100 Movies: The Big Sleep (1946)

Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall

Two years after she taught him how to whistle in To Have and Have Not, Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart were together again in The Big Sleep, where Bogart played the second of his great screen detectives (the first being Sam Spade in the film that made him a bona fide star, The Maltese Falcon). This is a dark, cynical story about the decaying morals of the upper class, the members of which are drowning in so much vice that they hardly notice their foundation is crumbling. No one gets off easy here, no one is really “good.” It’s a bad world and it’s full of bad people, all of whom want to get in on the action while the getting is good.

Bogart plays Phillip Marlowe, a more polished, less rough and tumble detective than Sam Spade. They share a few things in common – both are smart, can get tough if they have to, and have a soft spot for potentially dangerous women – but they’re ultimately quite different. Spade thrived in his seedy environment, whereas Marlowe is more of a gentleman detective; not itching for a fight, not looking to pull anything over on anyone, just aiming to accomplish the job he was hired for. Then again, perhaps Marlowe just seems more polished because the world he’s moving in is that of high society – albeit a high society with a dark, gritty underbelly. The plot of the film hinges on multiple murders, pornography, and two sisters whose indulgences in booze, sex, gambling and God knows what else, has led their father (also an indulger in all those things) to write them off as being no good.

The father is General Sternwood (Charles Waldron), who hires Marlowe to take care of the gambling debts of his younger daughter, Carmen (Martha Vickers). Carmen is a drunken nymphet who wastes no time making eyes at Marlowe (“She tried to sit in my lap while I was standing up”) and proves to have a deeper involvement with Geiger - the man to whom she supposedly owes money for gambling debts - than was originally thought. The General’s other daughter, Vivian (Bacall), is also quick to call herself to Marlowe’s attention, though her intentions (at first) are less amorous. Her interest isn’t in Marlowe himself, but in what her father has hired him to do. Namely, she believes that Marlowe has been hired to find Sean Regan. The two elements are, of course, related, resulting in numerous dead bodies (many of which end up, at different times, in the same house) and some wonderful verbal exchanges. The dialogue itself is arguably the best thing about the film, especially in the scenes between Marlow and Vivian, which capitalize on the real-life relationship between Bogart and Bacall.

The plot of the film can be difficult to follow. There’s a famous anecdote with regards to the death of a chauffer that no one involved with the story – including Raymond Chandler, who wrote the source novel – could explain. But the thing about this movie is that the first time you watch it, you don’t even really realize that you’re not completely following the thread of the mystery, because the plot itself is really secondary to the dialogue and the characters. In a genre defined by smart dialogue, this is one of the sharpest, with the characters dodging each others barbs twice as often as each other’s bullets. Bogart, naturally, gets the lions share of the best lines, but there’s an exchange between him and Bacall about horses that provides her with her sizeable number of zingers and double entendres. Part of the joy of watching this film is just watching Bogart and Bacall play off of each other.

There’s another version of the film in which Vickers gets more screen time and makes the most of every moment, more or less showing up the film’s leading lady. Because of this, and because Bacall generally seemed a little stiff in some of her scenes, it was decided to cut many of Vickers’ scenes and reshoot some of Bacall’s so that a potentially viable leading lady would not find her career crushed before it could really get off the ground. It’s true that Bacall is overshadowed by Vickers in the first version, and that she herself delivers a better performance in the second, but there are some other minor changes to the second/“official” version which ultimately serve to make it tighter and more focused. It’s a shame for Vickers, whose film career never really had a chance to take off, but the cutting and the reshoots did, ultimately, make for a better film. Both are worth watching, but the “official” version is the film that we want, with its wit and sharp edges and, of course, the interplay between Bogie and Bacall.