I seem to have stumbled into two overlapping film projects, one intentional and the other a lucky byproduct.  The premeditated series is the Cary Grant marathon that Emily and I embarked on a couple of months ago, slowly backfilling both of our knowledge of the Cinematic Titan.  The other intersecting marathon has been tracing the birth of The Hollywood Comedy from Silent to Vaudeville to Screwball.  In just a few months, I feel like I have a new appreciation of how Hollywood adapted to new technology and stars to make America laugh – and to see what still works today.

Vaudeville

A Day at the Races (1937)

The easiest place to start in this journey is with the Brothers Marx.  Luckily the Ambler Theater has recently shown both A Night at the Opera and A Day at the Races in their 35mm glory.  Both screenings were to packed houses, providing Groucho, Chico, and Harpo’s antics with a real laugh track.  (I have tried many times to watch Marx Bros. films from the comfort of my couch, but found there is a magic the Brothers only posses on the big screen that is lost in translation on my 19″ monitor.  With the audience laughing with you, the routines escalate to a point where you cannot seem to control yourself.  Hard to get on a roll like that by oneself.

Of the two, I would easily say that Opera is the better.  The routines are just more polished (as they should be since they road tested them for months before they shot the film, honing in on the best timing and jokes) and there is more at stake in the film for the audience to connect.  The contract scene is one of my favorite Marx Brothers moments. (My favorite, however, would have to be the mirror scene from Duck Soup.)  Something, however, falls apart in the space between the “The End” of Opera and the start of Races in which the humor seems less cohesive.  There are moments, but the tutti-frutti ice cream truck scene and the ballroom scene never seem to fit into the story the way all Opera ’s gags did previously.  And then there is the detachable blackface musical number - purposefully disconnected from the plot so it could be edited out for screenings in the South.  Up until that moment, my brother (who refuses to watch movies made before 1996) and Emily (who was doubtful after many failed attempts to make her laugh by viewing the Contract Scene) had written the viewing off as “another dumb film Chris dragged us to” – luckily the sheer absurdness saved the evening and gave us a shared uncomfortable horror.

From Stage to Screen

The obvious first step in sound film was to bring the Vaudvillians to the screen and following close on their heels were adaptations from the Stage.  Twentieth Century is a play within a movie, based on the play, in which a overbearing director tries to coerce his leading lady back to the stage after a stint in Hollywood.  Billed as one of the first Screwballs (1934) based on its fast-paced dialogue and Carole Lombard’s wild performance, TC claims a spot as the pivotal change in Hollywood comedy.  I must confess to not finding Twentieth Century all that funny, although it is a great performance by John Barrymore and worth watching for his wild acting a gestures – particularly THE IRON CURTAIN –  his transition into sound did not diminish his amazing stage presence and gesticulation.

The Philadelphia Story (1940)

The other two stage adaptations we saw were The Philadelphia Story and Arsenic and Old Lace, both of which benefited from the addition of sets beyond what the Stage could hold, but both seem especially stagey.   (Neither film really fits into the Grand Arc of Hollywood comedy history, but I just thought I would mention them as films we watched.)  Philadelphia Story has some wonderful moments and interplay between Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, and Jimmy Stewart, but still remains one of those films that while you need to see it as a famous Hollywood moment, it is not one that I eagerly look to re-watch.  That said, the drunk scene with Jimmy and Cary is one I could watch over and over and over.

Arsenic is just a madcap farce replete with murdering old ladies, a man who thinks he is Teddy Roosevelt (and runs up the stairs yelling CHARGE! as often as he gets the chance), and a Boris Karloff-look-a-like murderous mobster, Peter Loore…and Cary Grant making exhasperated faces.  While a brilliant cast and a film that I think everyone should see, I do think it is one that would be much better seen live.

Still Cringing After All These Years

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

The medium of sound allowed for perfect scripting and delivery to crack us up and not simply pratfalls.  Of course, as with any comedy, some jokes work and others fail and still others cause us to cringe as we watch fantastic stars fumble around the stage.  With the vaudeville acts and stage shows starting to give way to a new breed of Hollywood comedy based on quick wordplay and less slapstick there were bound to be films in between the transition that are neither one nor the other.  Now I know that Bringing Up Baby is one of the classics of the Screwball genre, but Emily could not take it – just one embarrassing moment after another.  She kept calling it the obvious precursor to Meet the Parents and There’s Something About Mary, movies that rely on awkward conflicts to fuel the laughter.  It was interesting to see how far back the style could be traced (especially knowing that it tanked at the box office in ‘38 – way before its time).  Grant and Hepburn have a great chemistry, but there it takes a real concentration to sit through the film, especially with Grant’s inability to take control of anything and Hepburn’s wild ditsyness.

Screwball Gold

His Girl Friday (1940)

The best of the movies we have so far viewed can be distilled down to the following criteria: leading men and ladies on an equal footing dueling with witty banter and not too much slapstick.  His Girl Friday and The Thin Man are probably my favorite of the screwball genre and keep getting better each time I return to them.  Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell are a perfect match for each other in Friday, and there is just enough mayhem to keep the laughter meter going.  The Thin Man still has some of my favorite moments, not to mention one of the best characters in cinema history.  I guess I am saying a lot about myself when I say that the martini swilling husband and wife detective team of Nick and Nora Charles that never seems to get flustered (or a hangover) while locking up the case is a future I eagerly aspire to.

Both films have perfectly timed humor and Friday has the most incredible fast-paced dialogue of any film.  It is not hard to see the connections between what Howard Hawks took from directing Twentieth Century and Bringing Up Baby and was able to make perfect in Russell and Grant’s interactions. (Both were trained with both sets of lines so they could jump in and finish each other’s sentences.)  Finally with the right elements in place, the perfectly matched acting duo, witty dialog, and a script that allowed them to one up each other without relying on physical humor, Friday finally comes out as the winner of the Hawks comedy experiment.  What’s interesting is that W.S. van Dyke was able to make The Thin Man work just as well in 1934 – the same year as Twentieth Century.

In Summary

Not really being a scholarly article, there is not much in terms of a real conclusion that I am going to draw here other than there is an amazing period in the 30s where comedy was forced to reinvent itself.  We still have a decent pile of films to watch and I know there are some glaring holes in terms of oversights and some quick summation.  Feel free to tack on any film suggestions below and/or comments.