Review of Bringing Up Baby (1938) by Blake P — 21 May 2015

Funny how time has turned Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn into untouchable legends. In our minds, they're heavyweights stars with the capability to play any possible role, comedy parts among them but not our very first thought. We think of Hepburn as the ballbuster of "Woman of the Year", the transcending force of Eleanor of Aquitaine in "The Lion in Winter", Grant as a suave leading man of "Notorious" and "Charade" days past. We don't altogether forget how good of comedic actors Hepburn and Grant are. Rather, we underrate them, considering them to be masters at the top of their game instead of comedians capable of giving Bob Hope and Lucille Ball a run for their money.

Excuse me while I sound off like an old-timer that continually yaps about the good old days - but present-day actors are really, really truly nothing in comparison to Hepburn and Grant. We have great actors around, no doubt, but the majority of actors are excellent in one genre and a deadbeat in the other. Daniel Day-Lewis is fantastic in drama, but can you imagine him headlining a screwball comedy? Many can perhaps stay alive in a comedy, yet they aren't stirring the pot; they're usually sidelined with a quote-on-quote comedic actor who does all the heavy lifting for them.

Hepburn and Grant are shining jewels of the cinema, humorous or otherwise. They don't just say their lines and hope to get a laugh. They become the dialogue, physically, emotionally, instinctually. Like the Barbara Stanwycks, James Stewarts, Rosalind Russells, Jack Lemmons of the day, a particular genre does not come as an obstacle. It's hard to even call Hepburn and Grant actors - to label them as chameleons seems more like it.

In "Bringing Up Baby", Grant portrays David Huxley, a mild-mannered paleontologist hoping to finish his dinosaur exhibit through a potential million-dollar grant. While golfing with the primary donor, Peabody (George Irving), his plans are put on hold by the nutty Susan Vance (Hepburn), who steals his golf ball, his car, and, later, his heart. After causing a number of blunders in his life, Susan, who is under the impression that he is, in fact, a zoologist, persuades him to come to her aunt's Connecticut home to lock up Baby, a leopard she received from her brother. Consider that David is also supposed to get married the following day to the stuffy Alice Swallow (Virginia Walker). Consider that Susan's aunt (May Robson) is another benefactor for the grant, and believes that David is someone other than who he is. Consider how much trouble David will be in after it is discovered that Susan's dog has stolen and buried a rare dinosaur clavicle. Consider ...

The plot of "Bringing Up Baby" is so thickened with misunderstandings and physical comedy races that is comes as a surprise that its abundance of energy never lets up, like a puppy who accidentally drank five Red Bulls and found its way onto a treadmill. It is the best screwball comedy ever made, being the funniest, the most lively, and the best acted. It should come tumbling down, considering how many comedic situations it has interacting at once, but Howard Hawks' direction is so sharp that the madness is nearly orderly.

Arguably, "Bringing Up Baby" positively explodes during its climactic jail sequence; after yet another misunderstanding, the local constable arrests David, Susan, her aunt, and her aunt's dinner guest - later arriving is Baby, Susan's dog, and a second leopard who the characters think is Baby. Susan, hoping to trick the guards into releasing her, puts on a gun moll act that ends with her escaping out the window, befuddling everyone in the room. And then Peabody shows up. And then Alice Swallow shows up. And then ...

"Bringing Up Baby" never slows down; it gets kookier (and better) as it goes along. It's a solid example of a perfect film. Hawks gives the material the zip it needs, Hepburn and Grant live the screenplay (ad-libbing and all), the supporting actors kick any chances of fatigue in the crotch - everything, and I mean everything, fits together flawlessly. In 1938, it was a flop, a critical shrug. In 2015, it's a masterpiece, a cinematic diamond.