A year of screwball comedies

The past year turned out to be quite an educational one for me, re-watching films, many of which I love, and trying to analyze them in my own way. I have no idea if I got any of it right or wrong, but I think I walk away from this experiment knowing that to have a successful film, the stars really do need to align. It isn't just about the fantastic script, or director, or actors, it all has to come together. Watching The Philadelphia Story with commentary really shows you how every tiny detail was well thought out, from the sets to the lighting, the casting to the rewriting. It's seeing to these details, the perfectionism, that created these fantastic films that still entertain us all these years later.

While I already knew the importance of all the parts in a story, I think what I got most out of this past year was learning all the trivia or noticing the details, memorizing lines. And there were films I gave a chance, when in the past I hadn't. There are a couple that I hadn't watched again and this time I did and tried. Trouble in Paradise I always liked, but it wasn't a favorite. I think after a month of it, I truly, truly enjoyed it and can say it's might be my favorite of the bunch. I say might because I think of The Awful Truth and can't quite decide.

My only regret is that in the last few months, I wish I would've had more time to watch the films. So I struggled toward the end, but was determined. I read scripts and for most was able to see the before and after, that for a film like Nothing Sacred was like night and day. Still wish they would've gone with the original draft. But overall, I'm glad I did this, that I finally took the time to watch a dozen films and really study them, some more than others, but really to understand the mechanics.

And now with this year being over, I walk away a little more empowered with knowledge, and with memories of lots of laughs.

A few final thoughts on Bringing Up Baby

This is another film I don't think I spent nearly as much time as I would have liked. And not because I didn't like it because if anything I've walked away with a deeper appreciation for Bringing Up Baby. This is one of those films that I've heard people either hate it or love it. And it's not a screwball comedy like any of the others. But like most films, the one thing that makes this a classic is the people behind the making of it.

The opening of this film establishes the premise straightaway. Within the first four minutes we know that our hero, David, is in the midst of trying to achieve an important career milestone and that to get it he must impress a Mr. Peabody. David's to get married the next day, but his bride-to-be is a bore who wants nothing but work to be the emphasis of their married life. Next scene, enter Susan Vance. Because these two clash we know that they will end up together, but from the moment we see them, we know we will have one good laugh after another. It isn't so much the dialogue that's exchanged, but again, it's the performances, the way Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant interpret their characters. Pace and tone is established, the story isn't terribly fast, but it's quick enough and filled with hijinks that should be entertaining for all.

Our two leads couldn't have been embodied by more able actors. Grant has the charm and sophistication any girl would want in a man, but here as the absentminded professor, there's more to it. David can't stand the spontaneity that Susan brings to his life, yet anytime he thinks she's in trouble or her feelings are hurt, he can't help himself but help her, soothe her. He drives her crazy but he can't pull himself away. Grant is able to show this in such a hilarious manner, able to say lines that aren't really funny, but somehow when he says it, they are. Then there's Hepburn who takes on the role of Susan with such seriousness, never exaggerating to extraordinary strengths, but personifying her as an actual kooky person who just wants to be near David. She's smart and schemes all in the name of love, and you can't help but find her endearing. It's completely believable when she breaks out in tears that David doesn't want her help that he would then feel bad and change his mind, because she's like a child you can't say no to; there's an innocence to her, but not entirely. And really, you can forgive the mischief, as David does in the end.

Howard Hawks also did a lot with bringing the script to life, in just trying to ground it in reality. This is a story that you can somehow see happening in one of those Weird Stories section in the news. And if anyone doesn't believe it, they should read up a Dave Barry or Carl Hiaasen article. Hawks, though, and this is obvious to me now after I listened to the DVD commentary, allowed his actors to act scenes without interrupting it directorial remarks. Scenes were done in long takes and it does in fact make it seem more natural. The rehearsal these actors must have gone through is believable in that the script itself evolved into a much funnier story, leaving behind bits that may have come across as too expository and not funny enough.

The supporting cast is also great, from Walter Catlett to Charlie Ruggles and May Robson. Everyone gives great performances and help further the story. In fact, when we aren't looking at the leads, it's entertaining to watch any of these characters blubber about their woes and then go on about the leopard. Catlett in particular is hilarious as the constable who's trying hard to do his job but somehow can't quite seem to get any story straight and always ends up believing the wrong thing.

While the dialogue and the pace isn't as sharp as others in the genre, really the film isn't any less of a screwball comedy. There is great bits of dialogue, but overall it's not as smart as other films. And that's not a bad thing. As I've mentioned before, I think where the film lacks in dialogue it makes up in physical comedy, which is somehow more universal and reachable to all audiences. Perhaps though, the one thing never really seen here is the differences between the classes. The working class here is just as crazy as the privileged, which is different but at the same time, for me, it's hilarious and dead on. At the end, everyone is a bit loony, just in different degrees.

Overall, Bringing Up Baby is one of those films that'll make you laugh again and again. Perhaps it's because it was done in a way that comes across so naturally, but mostly I think that it's due to Hawks and his direction of Hepburn and Grant. I don't think anyone else could quite pull off such a hilarious film the way these guys do. And this is because they play it straight, again it's obvious now. Whereas others would've exaggerated, here we see performances done seriously without any intent to be funny, which of course makes it all the more ridiculous and enjoyable. If this is a classic, it's because of Hawks, Hepburn, and Grant. I don't think anyone else could've or could do any better.

Differences between film and screenplay

I was able to find a copy of the Bringing Up Baby screenplay and just read it recently. The differences are enough to show what ended up making the film a classic. Like most scripts from the day, it is long with over 200 pages, and it actually has more scenes that never made it to the screen. But a bigger difference is how some of the scenes evolved into what did end up in the film.

Perhaps the biggest difference I found is how much was shown in the script, whereas in the film these things had been said. The scene in which Susan crashes into a truck filled with birds and Baby has a feeding is expanded. We never see Baby in the pond after the geese and ducks, but in the script we see the fiasco afterward for a short while with Susan going after Baby, while the driver of the truck insults Susan and David.

One scene not in the film that I did find funny is when Susan is captured by the psychiatrist at his home. In the film we see him take her and then the police come for her and catch David nearby peeping in and then the next scene is at the jail cell. In the script, the psychiatrist has an interrogation scene with Susan. He’s trying to get her to reason, to see there is no Baby and she’s after a man. He tries word association and every name is either David or George or Baby and then she ends up with intercostal clavicle only to confound the psychiatrist. It’s one scene that made me laugh to read it and I wonder why it was cut out. Of course, on the page, the psychiatrist is much more aggressive than he appears onscreen. Whereas onscreen he seems absentminded, in the script he just assumes the worst and wants to fight everyone. He wasn’t as funny but rather more annoying. What ends up in the film is just right.

The script also has Baby as a panther instead of leopard. Only in a few pages is there mention of a leopard and I assume it’s because those pages were added as changes to the shooting script. Baby is still from Brazil and he’s got a doppelgänger from the circus running around Connecticut as well. I’m not sure why the change here, but I assume it has something to do with availability. Curiously though, the commentary on the DVD mention that Howard Hawks said he read a story from Hagar Wilde about a girl with a leopard, so I’m not sure what it really was in the end.

Some of the scenes that did end up in the film were either added or changed, not dramatically, but enough to get the right laughs. An observation in the DVD commentary was that once the script was done, Dudley Nichols probably didn’t have much to do with the script afterward and that Hawks took time to rehearse with the actors. From this I assume that much was either revised or improvised while on set. This is true from the first scene in which Alice and David talk about their impending marriage. In the script Alice talks with their colleague about it, and it’s all right, but it’s much funnier when Alice talks directly to David and tells him their marriage will be free of domestic entanglements. You then get to see David’s reaction whereas with the script version you don’t get to see that perhaps he wants more.

A scene different in the script is the arrival of Aunt Elizabeth. In the script, David isn’t as angrily frustrated but rather trying to explain just so he could go. So there’s no “I went gay all of a sudden” jump or anything that follows. There’s no George chasing after him into the room and David trying to get him out. When the intercostal clavicle disappears and David finds out, there’s no calling out for George around the house with Susan echoing David’s cries. And there are many more scenes, but overall you get a sense that the shooting script is really a working script for what ended up onscreen.

While the script for Bringing Up Baby is a long read, it’s still funny to read. I think mostly because in my mind I have the images of the actors and their performances that helped me envision the hilarity of the situation. It’s a strong script with a hilarious premise, and while it isn't completely what ends up onscreen, it's still enjoyable and definitely worth a read to see the differences between what does and doesn't end up in the final cut.

The comedy in Bringing Up Baby

Out of all the things to look at that make Bringing Up Baby stand out, I found it rather difficult to pinpoint what it is that makes it different. As I've mentioned before, the dialogue isn't particularly spectacular, and I personally don't find it to be a fast-paced film like Howard Hawks' other comedy His Girl Friday. Even looking at the plot, there's nothing too unique about it, except the absurdity of it all. But then, the comedy in itself and how it's played is perhaps what makes this film a bit different than the rest.

One of the things pointed out while watching the film with the DVD commentary is the presence of physical comedy in the film and how the actors themselves perform it. There are so many falls throughout the film and actually done by the actors. When Cary Grant enters into the restaurant just as Katharine Hepburn sends an olive flying into the air, he trips on falls flat on the floor. Same for Hepburn when she's on the phone and trips over the cord, she falls face down and lands on her elbows. Both end up in "shallow water" and while we don't see the whole incident with Baby chasing the goose and chicken, we do see Grant in the car all covered in feathers, his face none too pleased. This is something that for example, you don't see in Trouble in Paradise, and not really in Twentieth Century either. Preston Sturges would use physical comedy in his films, and in his script for The Good Fairy, there's certainly some of it. And something that's mentioned in the DVD commentary rings true, that Hawks pushed further with this film, he took what he did with his last screwball and amplified it. He really put in the slapstick in this film.

Grant is able to pull off comedy in a way I don't think I've seen other actors do. This isn't to say other actors aren't as funny, it's just that Grant manages to make it look so natural and easy. The faces he makes are funny and they aren't intentional either or come off as forced. He looks absolutely hilarious as the absent-minded professor stuck with a screwball heiress and running around Connecticut after his intercostal clavicle bone and a leopard at the same time. Any time he is trying to get a word in and Hepburn won't let him, Grant turns and opens his mouth, but then turns away patiently, and he'll raise a finger, but then turn away again and shake his head, and somehow he conveys this feeling of frustration at not being heard, but yet he doesn't speak up about it, which makes it hilarious. Of course, when he does lose it is when he's in the frilly robe and he yells and then steps on Hepburn's foot to get her to shut up. But mostly, Grant just has the reactions of a man in utter exasperation. You can't help but laugh. And then, Grant also has a way of making lines funny that aren't funny. The way he delivers them, and this is true of his other films as well, he just does it in a way that evokes a laugh. There's that line mentioned in the commentary after Hepburn and Grant fall in the water and he say something about them being just wet. It's not a funny line, but the ennunciation of the syllables just makes it funny. Grant makes it enjoyable to watch him play the absent-minded professor, an otherwise dull sort of guy.

And finally there's Hepburn. As mentioned before, she has Walter Catlett help her with the comedy, so as to not come off as trying to be funny. Hepburn plays Susan completely straight and you can see it. She's that good. There's no exaggeration whatsoever in her performance. Whereas another actress would play the screwball heiress with just the right amount of exaggeration to indicate this is for laughs, Hepburn plays her seriously. This is her world and things are as the way she sees them. It brings to the ambiguity where you wonder, does she really not realize that the golf ball she played wasn't hers? Does she really not realize that that isn't her car? Is Susan really that vapid? But she's so endearing; our sympathies are with her. She wants a husband and she goes after David. If Hepburn had tried to play her funny then she may have started to exaggerate certain mannerisms and then perhaps it not only wouldn't have been as funny, because it would've been forced, but you wouldn't sympathize with her either. This is most apparent when Grant tells Hepburn that he doesn't want her to help him look for Baby or George and Hepburn starts to cry. The crying isn't really forced. Playing it forced would've made her seem manipulative, which she is, but Susan goes about it in such an innocent way, like a child. The crying comes across as heartbroken, but not dramatic, it's just right, and David falls for it and the continue with their misadventures.

It's very interesting to look at the comedy of Bringing Up Baby, to see the choices that Hawks made when bringing the story to life and to see why it works so well. And one of the things I realized why I enjoy it so much after these viewings is because of the physical comedy, I just don't think I realized how Hawks worked with the script and actors to make it funny. And the even more interesting thing about it is that dialogue is such an important trait of the screwball comedy, but here it isn't as important. There are great lines, but really what makes this film stand out is the physicality of the comedy and the delivery of the performances.

Watching with Bogdanovich commentary

I took the time to watch Bringing Up Baby with the DVD commentary from Peter Bogdanovich and it turned out to be quite insightful. While some commentaries don’t offer much and others have a film scholar talking throughout the entire film, Bagdonavich fits somewhere in the middle, recalling an interview with Hawks and noting some observations. At the same time he laughs from time to time and you see that he’s really enjoying the film and in a way watching it with you.

One thing Bogdanovich points out is how Hawks grounds the film in reality by not trying to be funny. His whole point while making the film is to have these funny situations happening to these characters and have the actors play it straight. According to Bogdanovich, Hawks had Walter Catlett, who plays the constable, help Katharine Hepburn at playing Susan by not trying to be funny. In fact, if you look at all the characters you’ll see that they’re all played seriously. Hepburn and Cary Grant both play these zany characters, the screwball heiress and the absent-minded professor, without trying to get laughs. It’s evident in their faces and their gestures, more so for Grant who keeps a straight face while Hepburn is bent over in laughter.

Another point brought up throughout the film is the long takes. It's something I didn't really notice. I think I paid attention more to the scenes with the leopard and wondering either how they were made or if PETA would be having a field day if they were around back in the day. But Hawks here actually films long takes, barely cutting. He told Bogdanovich that it allows for a more organic feel, letting the actors do their things and manipulating little in the editing room. And it's quite true. In fact when you take a closer look you appreciate the amount of practice and professionalism it took to film the scenes. And the best part is how funny the film turns out in the end. And again, there's this whole thing about basing it on reality, trying to make it as realistic as possible. Doing the long takes allows for that, there's no trickery, and there's no break of momentum. These funny situations are happening in real time.

If you look at the film you'll notice that most of the action happens at nighttime, which Bogdanovich says was rare for the time, although I don't really notice time of day in other films. How he says it though makes sense because comedy is meant to be seen, so it tended to take place during the daytime. Bogdanovich calls it daring for Hawks to use nighttime setting.

So why didn't it do well at the box office? Hawks apparently thought that there wasn't a single sane person in the film. We sympathize with Susan but it's obvious she's a bit screwy. Every character in the film is crazy and that's what Hawks thought was the problem. He needed a couple of normal people in order for audiences to click with the film or to further ground it in reality. One character he thought should've been normal is the groundskeeper character, who Bogdanovich points out is perhaps the weakest part of the film.

I have to say that I actually quite enjoyed listening to Bogdanovich talk about Brining Up Baby with his anecdotes and observations in between laughs. It made it enjoyable and brought a new perspective in watching the film and learning a bit about how it was made.

From the museum to the golf course

Looking at the opening sequence of Bringing Up Baby, once again there’s quick establishment of the premise as well as the introduction of the two leads. And interesting enough, the sequence is divided into two scenes that contrast the differences in David’s life: life before Susan and life after meeting Susan.

Plenty is shown in the first scene with David. We see him in his quiet yet dull life that is basically made up of museum work. He sits thinking of where to fit his bone in the gigantic dinosaur fossil he’s been working on for the past four years. His fiancée, Alice Swallow, is no-nonsense woman who makes it clear to him that their marriage will be free of all domestic entanglements. David asks, “You mean…?” And Alice says, “Oh, yes!” When he hugs her and wants to celebrate the news of the arrival of the intercostal clavicle, Alice pushes him away. Even their John Kerry lookalike of a colleague tries to help out by suggesting they go celebrate, but Alice won’t hear of it. We know this is not a match and that David, such a geeky doctor in glasses, surely deserves better. But David has to go as Alice reminds him of his important golf date with Mr. Peabody. She tells him the importance of first impressions and the money that could be coming to the museum.

At the golf course, David meets with Mr. Peabody and tries to talk to him, but doesn’t know the proper etiquette of when to discuss business. Soon enough he’s off chasing after Peabody’s golf ball. This is when he meets Susan, the screwball heiress playing golf with Peabody’s ball. She’s enough to make anyone go mad, but somehow David stands there and tries to reason with her, which she doesn’t quite get. When she leaves and starts to take his car, David once again goes after her and tries to get her to stop, but she’s baffled at his insistence that everything is his. In the end she drives off with David hanging on to the car and Peabody watching them go off.

The interesting thing here is that the story doesn’t move at the quick pace of most screwball comedies. The dialogue isn’t fast at all, in fact if anything it stalls the movement of the story while a character tries to get Susan to understand. The difference here is that it doesn’t lag behind, but mostly it’s entertaining. The expression on Cary Grant’s face while he tries to explain the golf ball’s ownership, and then Katharine Hepburn’s airy responses to everything he says, this is what makes the film so enjoyable. And this is why you keep watching. You see the dull life David has and then you meet Susan and you know that’s what he needs.

The opening sequence of Bringing Up Baby isn’t as fast as others in the genre, but it is quick to establish the premise and introduce the leads. The dialogue might not be as fast-talking either, but it’s very funny and entertaining. Mostly, the characters and performances is what makes this scene stand out the most. They’re fun to watch and their misadventures promise a good laugh.

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

Having had eleven films plucked out from a list, I wasn't sure what to watch for the last one. I was between a couple of Sturges film, but I decided on a different film. Bringing Up Baby has got to be one of my favorite films. This is the film that somehow always makes me laughs no matter how many times I've watched it. The jokes don't get old, the performances always seems fresh, and it is by far one of the most ridiculous but enjoyable stories that I've watched on film.

I'm not sure I can pinpoint down one thing that makes this such an entertaining film, but I think a lot of comes down to the performances from Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn. They give such wonderfully exaggerated performances of their characters, and they work so well together, Grant as the nerdy David and Hepburn as the screwy Susan. They are complete opposites, yet their attraction to one another seems inevitable and hilarious. Grant, I think, is just easy to watch, always charming, even as an absent-minded professor. Hepburn here gives Carole Lombard a run for her money as the dim-witted heiress. I don't think there are many if any at all that can do the heiress quite like Lombard, but Hepburn does great here. She's never irritating, but instead she just makes you laugh with her responses to just about anyone and her reactions.

As usual, this film is filled with great lines. And these lines actually stand the test of time, because I still laugh whenever I hear them. Perhaps part of the reason is the delivery of the line, the action going on at the same time. There's a way in how Grant says to Hepburn that he's finds himself strangely attracted to her that makes me chuckle just thinking about it. But the great thing about the lines is that it doesn't linger on the joke too much. They're said and the action continues, as screwball comedies do. The pace is right and everything moves along quick enough.

The whole plot as well is a lot of fun. The idea of leopards in Connecticut and a screwball heiress and straight-laced professor running around trying to find one while also trying to find the intercostal clavicle of a dinosaur fossil David's been working on for the past four years, it's enough to make you dizzy just thinking of it. But the truth is that this silly storyline just draws you in with all the antics and the wonderful cast. Hepburn runs around on dainty toes while Grant has more costume changes than male actors usually do. The supporting cast is also outstanding, especially the constable and the psychiatrist, who interpret things so differently as if they're almost dense and end up feeding the misunderstanding about the entire situation. And then of course the ending, which has all the players behind bars while the leopard is loose in the police station. It's a wonderful scene. And what does David learn from all this? That it was the best weekend of his life and he thinks he loves Susan, who of course knew from the beginning she would marry him.

I don't think this film did well commercially when it originally came out. I know Hepburn was deemed box office poison at one point and I'm not sure if it was after this or not. Whatever the case, the truth is that Bringing Up Baby is by far a truly entertaining film with some remarkable performances. It does indeed have a ridiculous plot, but at the same time it's got memorable lines that'll keep you laughing. If anything, this is a must-see just to watch Grant and Hepburn on their own and with each other, and with a leopard, and with a dog. It's one not to be missed.

A couple last thoughts on Twentieth Century

This is one of those films that going in I really didn’t care for but in the end it grew on me. Twentieth Century ends up being one of those films that’s really funny once you get past some of its shortcomings. It’s not only got entertaining dialogue, but it’s got a great performance from John Barrymore.

To start off, the film sets the tone right away, if not at a good pace, but nonetheless, you know this is a comedy. My favorite lines before Barrymore graces the screen come from Roscoe Karns, ever delivering those sarcastic one liners. In fact he and Walter Connolly show once again how important the supporting cast is. They’re supposed to be buffoonish but they have to be entertaining and that Karns and Connolly pull off magnificently. Karns the drunkard always at Barrymore’s bidding and Connolly as Barrymore’s loyal friend, forever getting fired and always on the verge of a heart attack.

Breaking down the film and reading the script definitely helped me stay focused throughout the story, otherwise I got bored somewhere in between. From Carole Lombard’s shrieks and the lack of a better audio track, the film tends to lag once the story moves on the train, and this is precisely when it should feel as if it were speeding up.

Lombard was a problem for me and I noticed it more so after reading the script. Had this been the first film of hers I had seen then perhaps her performance may not have bothered me as much. But when you go into a screwball comedy to see the queen of screwball, and it’s not just that you heard, you’ve seen her at her best, you go into the film with high expectations. This I believe is what the problem was for me. Her performance here isn’t bad, it’s just not great, and as I’ve mentioned she almost comes off as if she’s trying to act like Jean Harlow. In fact, I think Harlow might’ve been better in this, and I say that simply because I think I could tolerate Harlow’s whining, but I couldn’t for Lombard. It’s not that Lombard can’t play a spoiled princess because she has done it beautifully before, it’s just that this spoiled brat is completely unlikable. And while that might be on purpose, there should be something charming about her, and I couldn’t find it.

The only good thing about Lily being unlikable is that it makes sense that she ends up with Jaffe in the end. But even that’s a bit off because while Jaffe is unbearable, Barrymore has so much fun with him that you like Jaffe, you want him to get what he wants in the end, but then you wonder how he could put up with Lily. Barrymore is perhaps the most enjoyable thing out of this film. To watch his facial expressions go from patient to serious to melodramatic is all hilarious. He is such an actor and then when he has to go under disguise he says he can’t believe he’s sink so low as to become an actor. He’s comical and entertaining every bit of the way.

I couldn’t say that Twentieth Century is one of my favorites but it’s certainly isn’t bad or as unwatchable as I deemed it back years ago the first time I watched it. There’s a great cast, a fantastic lead in John Barrymore, but mostly it’s got a funny script, the one thing that holds the film together. It’s not like the screwballs that would come later on, but it certainly laid the groundwork for the genre in time to come.

Napoleon of Broadway

I was able to read a copy of the final draft of Twentieth Century, and while it is about as long as most scripts were in those days, it was enjoyable to read. This of course is due to the sharp dialogue and great characterizations. This is probably the third or fourth script of Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur's that I read and I must say they really had a gift for finding a character's voice, as well as delivering irony. The film in itself is probably not a favorite, and while the script is pretty much the same as the film, I have to say I enjoyed reading the script more than watching the film.

It's amazing how distinct each character's voice is. I could hear the actors speaking the words and was able to see how they interpreted the dialogue since there were instances in which the script gave no direction. Reading Lily's lines, for example, I wasn't as distracted by the whining or constant shrieking that you hear in the film. Even still though, it's clear that Lily is quite a diva. There is stage direction that Lily collapses into tears, and the thing that struck me the most was how often she says people keep "hammering and hammering" and I think I just tuned it all out because she was shrieking in those instances. Interesting enough, as I read Lily's part and remembered Carole Lombard's performance I suddenly started thinking on Jean Harlow and wondered if Lombard was emulating Harlow. There's a way that Lombard delivers her lines after the three years have passed and on throughout the film that's reminiscent of Harlow's manner of speaking, sort of as in an exaggerated way of asking rhetorical questions.

As for Jaffe, well this is Jaffe's story. The play was originally called Napoleon of Broadway and I think perhaps they should've stuck with that name because it fits the film perfectly. Changing the name to Twentieth Century, after the train and a line that has a double meaning, it just ended up being more of a marketing ploy to me to show the film wasn't just starring John Barrymore, but also Lombard. In any case, Jaffe is every bit the dictator, the tyrant on page as he is on screen. Even still there are moments in which Barrymore takes it a bit further. Many of his lines are just straight forward without much direction. The great thing about it is that dialogue speaks for itself, makes it easier for Barrymore to act them out. So when he pauses and drags out a line for emphasis, it makes sense, especially considering the histrionics Jaffe tends to throw around.

The one thing that's interesting in the script though is that Jaffe is the one that discovers Lily is boarding the train and gets Webb and O'Malley to scheme with him to get her back. He further goes on to profess his love for her to O'Malley. While this is obviously implied by his actions, in the film Jaffe always makes it seem as if what he's really after is the star for his stage, his plays. I have to say, though, that it was a wise move to take this bit of dialogue out precisely because it's already implied. And because Jaffe does make it seem like it's more of a professional thing he's after, again, it's obvious it isn't, and Jaffe because even more complex and definitely more entertaining.

Even after reading the screenplay, I think that the film is more about Jaffe than the screenplay. There are more than a few bits of short scenes or lines between characters that were taken out. Perhaps this was due to time and I'm assuming that shooting with sequences or reels in mind where taken into account. But there was a short scene between Lily and George that was taken out, as well as some lines between O'Malley and Webb. Sometimes lines were merged or taken out of the omitted scene and put into a new scene. It works, but again, the finished film turns out to be more about Jaffe I think than about Lily and Jaffe.

Unlike some other scripts, Twentieth Century didn't take that long to read, and I have to say that it must be due to the great dialogue, which made it easy to go through. The great thing about the dialogue here is that it advances the story and not much stage direction is needed because it happens naturally. This isn't to say that there's no action written down, but instead that the dialogue facilitates the storytelling in a way that stage direction and action is only used when absolutely necessary. And above all, the dialogue is much funnier when you get to read it and listen to it at your desired volume in your head so that you can still understand it. The script is sharp, different from other comedies, and worth the read.

Jaffe, a screwball hero

There's something interesting about Oscar Jaffe as the screwball hero in Twentieth Century. He's not exactly like any hero seen thus far. He's certainly not Peter Warne or Jerry Warriner or Walter Burns; he doesn't really possess any of those characters' charms. There's nothing capricious about him that gives way to his scheming. Instead, Jaffe is an egocentric auteur who is manipulative and controlling, but pretty much a hysterical character. He's an atypical screwball hero, but with Jaffe we can see the beginnings of what the screwball hero and heroine would become.

While most screwball heroes that would grace the screen after Jaffe are the more scheming, trouble-making type, Jaffe has a more screwy side to him usually left for the screwball heroine. He's basically out there, full of himself, and quite particular about how things should be run on his stage. And John Barrymore plays him exceptionally well. He's given perhaps the best lines in the film and delivers them with such deadpan seriousness. This is how Jaffe is, a melodramatic fool who's so controlling that he pretty much keeps his main star locked away from the world for three years, lest she mingle with the riffraff.

Usually, though, the screwball heroine is so unaware of her zany traits' effect on others, and everything she does is motivated out of an innocence really or reasoned in a matter-of-fact way. The manipulative scheming is usually, although not always, left up to the screwball hero, a wise-cracking commoner. But in this film, Jaffe is more of a primadonna, outdoing Lily in any crying fit. The train ride is an excellent example, when both are wailing in her compartment, before an idea pops into each one's head and they stop. At the same time, he's the one who schemes to get Lily back under contract. With each scene, Jaffe gets a new idea how to get Lily back and at the very end comes up with the best one, to pretend he's dying, which Lily falls for. Jaffe is really two parts. It's almost as if the hero and heroine had been molded into Jaffe and not really taken apart so that the two can come back together, which is really what the screwball is about in the end, two parts of a whole equaling one.

Now, usually in a screwball comedy there's an attention to the classes, and you don't really see that in this film, as such the leads would normally be from different backgrounds. Here instead is the differences in theatre ranks with the egomaniacal director and the doe-eyed ingenue who turns into a spoiled diva. Normally, the one audiences would identify with more would be the smarter of the two, and in this case Lily should be the smarter one of the two, but really it's Jaffe. At the same time, Jaffe can't win Lily over at the bat of an eye, and this is because she is too smart for him. So again, there seems to be some mixing of what would be clear indicators of who's the stronger lead here. And while both can be strong leads, only one can be at the same time or else we have an imbalance.

In the end, I find it interesting that Jaffe is the most interesting character out of Twentieth Century and he has what I think are both the hero and the heroine in him. And while Lily struggles to get out on top, she's always reduced to tears or a screaming fit. I don't think we're meant to like her, but if we like Jaffe in spite of his egotism, surely we want him to end up with someone who'll give him hell for it and won't cry at every manipulative soliloquy. No, I'd rather see Jaffe end up alone, and no wonder because it seems like he's got the yin and yang in him.

Screwball origins

Watching Twentieth Century more carefully proved to be much more enjoying in the end. There's something about this film that makes it difficult for me to keep interested. But the funny thing is that taking in each scene and making notes I was able to fully grasp the story and notice things I hadn't really paid attention to before. I was also able to see why I didn't like certain aspects of the film or its structure. The best explanation I have for what I see as imperfection of a screwball comedy is that the screwball was still developing.

I believe this film, along with It Happened One Night, is described as one of the first screwball comedies. I actually think, especially after several viewings, that Trouble in Paradise should get a mention as well. But there are some that consider Twentieth Century to be one of the first if not the first screwball comedy. That being said, I remember when I first watched Trouble in Paradise how incredibly slow I found it. I think one of the problems with Twentieth Century is that the pacing isn't as quick as the genre demands. Of course, there are no standards set before since the genre developed in reaction to the Hays Code, which didn't go into effect until the latter part of 1934, after this film premiered.

The pacing problem, as I've already mentioned, is due largely to the fact that too much focus is placed on Jaffe in the beginning of the film. Understandably so, Jaffe is the lead, the most entertaining character, and the one whom your sympathies lie with. Normally, if I'm entertained, I can forgive things like not revealing a full premise right away, but unfortunately this is difficult because of the sound. I wonder if the film would improve with a soundtrack or even a better audio track. But again, the pacing needs to be established straight away, and while the tone is set from the beginning, something always seems off because the story doesn't really move along; it just stays in the theatre rehearsal for almost 16 minutes, all to showcase Jaffe's eccentricity.

Then there's Lily Garland, who is perhaps the biggest flaw in this film. Carole Lombard doesn't do a bad job. In fact, in a scene at her apartment, she starts making faces of people, and you see immediately the screwball queen there. The problem lies with Lily; you can't stand her. The whole point with a screwball couple is that they can't live with one another, but it doesn't matter because they belong together and you root for them because you like them in spite of their zaniness. At first, Lily seems like the young ingenue you'd expect, but after three years Lily's frustration is evident and you understand it. But slowly, and most especially during the train ride and on, you see the true spoiled brat that Lily has become, and she isn't charming at all. This isn't Irene Bullock, who's clear stupidity is so endearing in a way you can't explain. This is Cordelia, the Park Avenue Brat you want Godfrey to make cry.

While you certainly can agree in the end that Lily and Jaffe deserve one another, it's hard to enjoy a film in which one half is just plain annoying. John Barrymore as Jaffe is truly a delight to watch. He morphs into different characters and takes on voices of other characters so seamlessly. But as Jaffe he's truly entertaining to watch. And only because he wants Lily will you accept this union in the end, but really, if he doesn't get her in the end, it's okay.

I think a lot of the things that make a film good happen to late in the film. There should've been ample opportunity to showcase Jaffe's character throughout the film without needing to have the first 16 minutes of him interacting with the cast and crew. The film should've started three years later and then with Lily leaving Jaffe for Hollywood. The stakes are drawn high when Jaffe is in ruin and close to losing his theatre. The race for him to get Lily to sign on to another play is important, but again, it happens too late. There's the distraction with the con-artist who sticks Repent stickers all over the train, and he proves vital in the end, but his storyline isn't as entertaining, at least not to me. These are things that are all important to the screwball but needed more refinement.

Finally, the dialogue is the single greatest thing, well along with Barrymore, that comes out of this film. And a lot of it is hard to follow, which I blame on the audio track of my copy of the film. When I sat down to rewatch this, I found myself laughing even more at some of the lines that had just gone over me before. But the dialogue helps set the pace and tone, and if the film doesn't drag, as I've said before, it's due to the dialogue. None of this is more evident than near the end of the film, when Jaffe pretends his dying and cons Lily into signing a contract. There's so much fast talk going on here and you feel like you're in a whirlwind and before you know it, Lily belongs to Jaffe all over again. That feeling of "what happened" is exactly the feeling screwball comedies leave in the end, and this film sets that bar for future screwballs.

Overall, I think I was able to fully understand why I don't love this film as much as I want to, and the bottom line is that it isn't perfect. The leads need polishing, the pace needs to be quickened, the premise needs faster setting up, but then there are other things like dialogue and super fast denouements that show clearly how Twentieth Century is a forerunner to the screwball comedy. And for this reason, it's good to watch to see how the genre evolves from here.

At the Jaffe Theatre

Like most opening scenes, Twentieth Century establishes its tone fairly quickly with its dialogue--the best lines coming from the supporting cast. But while it drags a bit in pace, takes longer than what I'd like to introduce its leads, when you finally get to see John Barrymore in his grandiosity, it's truly worth the wait. Even still, it could've moved along faster and have established its plot earlier on.

This is perhaps the first screwball comedy that I've watched this year that did not establish its conflict in the opening sequence, at least I didn't think so. In the opening sequence you do see the circumstances and proper introductions to the characters and what may come of it, but an actual outright, this is what the film is going to be about, no. You look at the sequence that follows, an extension that blends into the debut performance of Carole Lombard's Lily Garland, and even then you don't really get the conflict. It isn't until the following scene that you get a notion of Lily's life as Jaffe's muse and actress, and that she has grown tired of it and wants out.

What conflict is introduced in the opening scene? Jaffe is an eccentric artist who's discovered an ingenue in Mildred Plotka, whom he has now renamed Lily Garland. Unfortunately, Lily cannot act, but nevertheless Jaffe gets the performance he wants out of her. Barrymore is great as Jaffe. Usually one thinks of Lombard as the great screwball queen, but she's really overshadowed by Barrymore here. To be fair, Lombard isn't given much in this opening, except an eager girl wanting to be an actress. It's Barrymore though who brings on the laughs here. He's first introduced in his office on the floor with a giant feather quill, which he is using to write. When he comes down to the stage to interact with the crew and players, you get a sense of the real diva he is.

While Roscoe Karns says some great lines, it's Barrymore who has the best ones. When he turns to Walter Connolly and vanishes him from his sight, he tells him, "I'm closing the iron door on you." And as he rushes Connolly off stage he shouts back not to send his fat wife after him. Before beginning the rehearsal, he tells each and everyone on stage that no matter what happens, no matter he says from here on out, "I love each and every one of you." When he starts a scene with the ringing of the doorbell, he tingalingalings like a patient but particular old man. He's truly one to watch here. So while there aren't any pratfalls or slapstick, the dialogue definitely sets the tone here and you know that this is going to be a funny film. This dialogue, if anything, allows the movie to not completely drag along.

Unfortunately, because there is so much focus on Jaffe's character, and understandably so, the pacing suffers, and so the opening sequence comes and go, and we still don't know how exactly the film will go forward. You get a sense that it's going to be about Jaffe and Lily, but not much else, just that he's particular and he's training his newfound discovery. Eventually you do get to the conflict later on in the film, but the premise is still a bit too vague in the beginning.

If there's one standout thing about the opening sequence in Twentieth Century it's John Barrymore. He's given the best lines and he's the most entertaining to watch. There's great dialogue that sets the tone and helps speed up the storyline, although too much focus on Barrymore's Jaffe keeps the opening sequence lagging a bit without really establishing the true premise of the film. While Carole Lombard is introduced here, she's not given much until later on in the film. Overall though, based on Barrymore's performance, it makes you want to keep watching to see what exactly Jaffe is going to get himself mixed up in.

Twentieth Century (1934)

I had seen this once before and I have to admit, this wasn’t a favorite. I wanted to like it for having John Barrymore and Carole Lombard, plus it was directed by Howard Hawks. Why shouldn’t I like it? Twentieth Century is a funny film if you can get past Lombard’s shrieking and the lack of a quick pace. It isn’t to say that the film drags on but at times, there’s only so much you can take. But when I could tune out the things I didn’t enjoy, I found some great lines and a funny Barrymore. I simply wish it could’ve sped up a bit and brought down the whining. In short, it’s still not a favorite, but I didn’t dislike it as much as I did the first time.

I really went into with an open mind and wanting to enjoy it—perhaps the last time I had seen a bad print of it—but while I did find the dialogue funny, I still wasn’t as engaged as I should have been.

Good things about this film? John Barrymore is absolutely wonderful here. He has perhaps the best lines and performs the role of Oscar exactly how you would think an “artist” would behave. Carole Lombard is good at times as well, mostly in the beginning of the film when she quarrels with Barrymore of him suffocating her. The supporting cast is also outstanding. It’s nice to see Walter Connolly, who always amazes me in every film I see him, and Roscoe Karns as the comic relief here. And again, the dialogue, when it can be made out, is really very funny. This isn’t surprising since it’s based on a play by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur. Overall, the film has strong points.

Just as well, there are some weaknesses in the film, the big one being Lombard’s shrieking and whining. It might be fairer to point out that the problem really lies within the sound of the film, though. A lot of the dialogue, I felt, is sometimes drowned out by lack of a clear audio track. This makes it hard to follow the story and soon I lost interest, particularly in the train ride. This is also where Lombard’s shrieking begins and instead of it being funny it just turns out to be irritating. You wonder how is it that the queen of screwball could’ve gotten it so wrong. All this drags the film and really it isn’t very long at all so it’s a bit surprising.

I think with a few more viewings that Twentieth Century could grow on me. I think because it is a film from 1934 that perhaps that's why it doesn't run as fast as an average screwball comedy. But if you focus on the good parts, such as Barrymore, the dialogue, the supporting cast, you walk away appreciating the film and especially the effort put into the script.

Some last thoughts on Sullivan's Travels

I wish I would've had more time for this lovely film from Preston Sturges. His dialogue never gets old for me. I can listen to it over and over, and this is true for Sullivan's Travels as well. Sturges goes beyond the defining points of the screwball comedy with this film and kind of changes the rules a bit by parodying, not a romance, but the film industry instead. So, while we don't have a couple we're rooting for, we still have a hero who must open his eyes to see the truth, in this case, that perhaps comedy is his true calling, instead of that drama he thinks he should make.

Looking back, Sturges is good at setting the pace. The film never drags along and in scenes in which you would think might go slow, Sturges uses visual storytelling to its utmost perfection by showing scenes quickly without dialogue and letting the action move the story along. He does this by scattering bits of everyday comedy into serious scenes so as to not burden the moment with a reality that is depressing. The effect is great because you never think he's making light of the stark circumstances of many people, but instead he tries to show the humor in the little things, like the funny way some of the tramps eat.

Tone is another important factor in any film, and Sturges sets it right away. The opening sequence is filled with so much dialogue between Sullivan and the producers that isn't just quick, but funny. It's like nothing you really get to hear, the dead honest remark of making sure that the film has "a little sex in it" is enough to make people laugh even today. And this tone remains constant, even with the more serious depictions of the hard life the tramps lead, Sturges never lets it dwell too much in sober thought because, again, he shows the funny side of hard times, and in a tasteful manner too.

The lead is rightly cast, something I've mentioned before. Joel McCrea brings the right sort of acting style that Sturges is able to use well. There's something about McCrea that he seems to sort of just deliver his lines, but there's never much rise and fall in his voice. And that isn't to say that he doesn't act because he wouldn't have been able to pull Sullivan off. But there's something in the way he acts that is perfect for the Sturges hero, that sort of wide-eyed wonder that Margaret Sullavan pulls off in The Good Fairy. Sullivan isn't naïve like Luisa Ginglebuscher, but he is quite innocent when it comes to knowing anything about trouble. He assumes it's something he can just go and experiment about and that'll be that, but it's not so simple.

The remaining cast is made up of Veronica Lake--a true delight to see here--and pretty much Sturges' stock company. Again, this is mostly Sullivan's story, but when the supporting cast does get on screen they shine brighter that McCrea. This makes it more entertaining to watch, especially when the lead isn't in the picture. It's that bit of comic relief everyone enjoys. Following Sullivan on that caravan or land yacht, the crew works together with ineffable chemistry and synchronization that doesn't just translate to dialogue, but also to physical comedy. They steal the show in the car chase scene with their bit of slapstick that makes that particular scene enjoyable to watch.

I've read somewhere that Sturges sold the first true spec script. I don't think he was the first writer/director, but he most likely did start a trend in which writers started claiming more creative control of their work. And to be honest, I'm glad Sturges made that leap to writer/director. It's obvious by the strong script he wrote that he had a clear image of the film he envisioned. He wasn't simply a writer, he wrote like a director. And perhaps the script is the greatest strength of the film. Without a good script, you just can't make a good film, not even the best director out there could pull it off.

There's more to discover in Sullivan's Travels, and perhaps if I had more time, I would've managed to get more out of it. But I walk away with a deeper appreciation for Sturges, the detail he took in writing his script, the balance between comedy and drama he brings to the film and still manages to make it his own. I am in complete awe of his creative skills, that he can write dialogue so well and at the same time master visual storytelling, it's something you certainly don't see today. Sturges could make you laugh in any way possible, and that's the big takeaway from this film, and rightly so. The reason why Sullivan's Travels is so successful is because he's telling you there's nothing like a comedy film, and Sturges does so through a comedy film, with no pretenses, because it really does make you laugh. If you haven't taken the time to watch it, it's a must-see for any film fan.

Written and Directed by Sturges

I have to say, I’m a big fan of Preston Sturges, but it wasn’t until now that I’ve sat down and read one of his screenplays. And in reading the script for Sullivan’s Travels, I’m reminded of the Trouble in Paradise script—not that big of a surprise considering Ernst Lubitsch is name-dropped about five times throughout the film. Sturges puts much detail in his script, things are well thought out, and not much is left on the cutting room floor, much like Lubitsch demanded of his scripts.

The first thing that stood out was how well action scenes were written. It's obvious that Sturges wrote this script thinking he would direct it. And although I have already seen the film, I could visualize every image as described. The car chase scene near the beginning, which is pretty much just visual storytelling, describes in one instance objects in the land yacht as being turned over like "potatoes in a skillet."

The montage in the middle of the film, is also well described, like the instance in which Sullivan and the Girl take turns jumping around when a sudden itch strikes their back. But then, in that same scene, when the Girl is at the shower stall, nothing is mentioned except that the action would be devised later on. Sturges couldn't put to paper something for that particular moment, and it goes to show that he was thinking of specific actions, instead of just saying something vague. What I like most about this, is the whole idea of just getting the script done. Sturges didn't let a roadblock stop him. He made a note of it, and moved on so that he could finish the scene.

One thing I like about this script, that I noticed while watching the film, is that it's a sequence film. I never noticed sequence storytelling until I read and watched Trouble in Paradise, and I've become such a big fan of it. I find it to be a much more clearer way of establishing story and I love the fact that each sequence has a goal, that each sequence is like a mini-movie. That being said, the sequence in which Sullivan stays with the two sisters always seemed a bit off to me. When Miz Zeffie calls out to Sullivan from up in the room she was preparing for him, Sullivan has a look of utter irritation. And while it's understandable straightaway that she's a bit unbearable, there is a bit of history behind that look, which is more clear upon reading the script. The last couple of times I've watched the film, I wondered how Sullivan ended up there when it's obvious he doesn't want to be there. In the script, the sequence starts out in a car ride Sullivan gets from the sheriff, who proceeds to drop him off at the sisters' house, lest he be put in jail for being a vagrant. The sheriff suspects Sullivan's just a bum who doesn't work for a living after seeing his hands that haven't seen a day of hard labor. These sequence also extends a bit the last part as well, and I think it was a wise choice to trim it down, because reading it just seemed to drag the story along, and really it isn't too relevant, only to make the point that Sullivan tries to get trouble, and ends up running away and back in Hollywood.

The ending is also different, although my copy had two endings: the finished one and a working one. The working draft one is pretty much the same, only Mr. Burrows talks a bit in the beginning. Then the ending, Sullivan tells the crew his plans to make a comedy, then proceeds to tell them who he will dedicate it to. This dedication is what appears in the final film, only in this ending, as Sullivan says a phrase, it's overlapped with images of different people laughing, the same images we see in the finished film. I never really cared too much either way for the last clips of people laughing, but I do have to agree again with the decision to stick with the finished film's ending. I think the working draft ending would've just dragged it on a bit too much, and it would've seem more Capraesque. With this film, Sturges is satirizing the film business, but he brings enough drama to balance out a serious topic in the 1940s. His serious scenes do evoke Capra, but he never allows them to dwell there because in the next clip, Sturges is showing you physical comedy. The finished film's ending still drives across the point he makes without getting too dramatic.

From my understanding, Sturges had been fighting to direct his own screenplays, and when you read a script like Sullivan's Travels, you see that it wasn't for naught. He had a clear vision and more importantly a unique voice. It makes you wonder how a film like The Good Fairy would've turned out had Sturges taken the helm. Sturges had a gift for dialogue, but also a gift for physical comedy, and he was able to get this across clearly on the printed page. The dialogue doesn't even need direction because the tone is apparent within the actual dialogue. And the action scenes are so well laid out without a lot of wordiness that it almost seems choreographed. Sturges wrote an incredible script and it's worth a couple of careful readings.

Sullivan's Travels as a screwball comedy

Here again is another film that pushes the defining requisites of a screwball comedy. Is Sullivan’s Travels a true screwball? According to what the “rules” are the answer would be no. But perhaps a better answer would be that, like most of the films of the late 30s and early 40s, this film further evolves the genre, and redefines comedy in general.

One of the biggest differences in this film with screwballs is that this isn't a typical love story. You could say that after watching the film, this is Preston Sturges love letter to the comedy, and you could even say that it's Sullivan's romance with comedy. He's done so many comedies and he wants to do something "meaningful" and dramatic, but of course he knows nothing about trouble. And like in most screwballs, Sullivan has to go through a whole lot of screwy trouble to finally realize who he's meant to be with, and in this case, he's meant to be doing comedies.

On the other hand, this film is very much like other screwballs when it gets down to the comedy and dialogue. No one writes dialogue better than Sturges. Some might think he's overrated, but he has an uncanny way of writing satire, parody, and to be able to evoke such performances out of actors who look doe-eyed all the while. Some of the best dialogue is in the opening scene between Sullivan and the film producers. Each producer tries to top one after the other with another greater instance of trouble that is so ridiculous that Sullivan quiets down. Dialogue is also memorable in the first meeting between the Girl and Sullivan. When Sullivan gets a bit too inquisitive, the Girl is quick to shoot back, "I didn't ask you any questions." And while it's not the famous repartee between two romantic leads in a typical film of the genre, the dialogue in this film is still classic and top-notch.

Now, while the screwball hero in this instance is a privileged boy who went to boarding school as a kid, we still sympathize with him, perhaps because of he's crazy scheme. He doesn't know trouble so he's going to find out, and no matter how many times he tries he ends up back in Hollywood, but he's determined. As an innocent of all things trouble, Sullivan is surrounded by tramps who are much "wiser" than him. This differences in classes is again something seen in screwballs, not the way portrayed in this film, but it's still a different way of looking at things. In fact, the big transformation for Sullivan is when he's mugged and loses his memory and ends up in jail. When he actually suffers and sees a comedy picture show and truly laughs, it's like the light bulb goes off in his head and his eyes open wide. He gets that wisdom, and in that he sees he's meant to be with comedies.

What Sturges does with Sullivan's Travels is take the screwball comedy, which parodies the romantic comedy, and instead uses these rules to parody the film business and a picture show director. So you take away the romance, but stay relatively within the boundaries, and you have a type of screwball comedy, although not quite. It's a bit of same but different that Hollywood always seeks, and Sturges makes one funny film by stretching the rules of the genre.

Visual Storytelling in Sullivan's Travels

I’ve mentioned this before but one of Sullivan’s Travels’ strengths is the versatility with comedy. Not only is Preston Sturges a master when it comes to fast and hilarious dialogue, but he has a knack for physical comedy but most importantly visual storytelling. This is something not necessarily pointed out in screwball comedies, in the sense that screwballs tend to highlight more the repartee. But Sturges does it so well that’s it’s worth a mention.

There are a few dialogueless scenes throughout the film. One is the car chase scene that resembles something out of cartoon. Before we even get to it, we hear the crew following Sullivan in his experiment in the caravan going on about the nutty idea. Sullivan himself feels like he’s being babysitted so he hitches a ride with a kid in a drag race car and mayhem ensues. The scene is a wonderful boost of energy and hilarity, and like I said, exactly what you might see in a vintage cartoon or even a silent comedy film. Legs are flying in the air, a cop is thrown mud several times before he can take off on his motorcycle, and things are crashing left and right. Sturges takes what could’ve been a dull moment and entertains; you have to watch it to fully enjoy it. This sort of storytelling also takes advantage of pace, which Sturges uses to it’s utmost extent in another scene.

A bit halfway through the film, there’s a montage of Sullivan and the Girl living as tramps and assimilating to that lifestyle. It is here that Sturges shows a fine balance between funny and serious. The depression is a serious topic as its name suggests, and Sturges doesn’t make fun of it but instead he shows the lighter side of it. For every homeless person eating a meal at a shelter, there’s another image of Sullivan eating the same meal with disgust. You see all the tramps showering, and then there’s the Girl showering in a stall with a look of utter discomfort all over her face. And when they all sleep on the floor, it’s depressing but at the same time comical with hands in all over. The montage gives the effect of a few days having passed by, maybe more, and what is normally a slow-moving detail speeds up quite quickly due to the comedic sides of the experience. What struck me most about this montage is how Capraesque it is in some areas but at the same time Sturges makes it his own by providing the lighter moments and physical comedy. He never gets too serious, which is kind of the point he’s trying to make in satirizing Sullivan’s exploration.

There’s one final bit near the end when Sullivan confesses to killing John L. Sullivan. What could be a bit melodramatic return of Sullivan turns out to be, again, quite comedic. The Girl reads the newspaper and runs to the producers to show them the news that Sullivan is alive, everyone meets and starts celebrating. Sullivan's wife is upset and next thing you know, Sullivan is on a plane back and surrounded by reporters. In a short montage, many events occur to speed the story along, which in this case is needed to wrap up the film. Sturges could've played it all out, but there's really no point since its much more effective, entertaining, and it re-emphasizes the point of using comedy, which is the lesson Sullivan learns in the end.

Visual storytelling is something I wish I'd see more of today in films and it's always refreshing to see it done so well as it's done in Sullivan's Travels. Sturges uses it well to speed up the story and to always keep things light during serious topics. Most importantly, he uses visual storytelling to drive his point across that in times of trouble, laughter is all people have sometimes.

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

There's something that must be said about a good opening scene. It has to grab you by the throat and demand that you stay put in your seat and watch. Some of the best opening scenes start in media res, right smack in the middle of the action and it immediately captures your attention. You become involved whether you want to or not. And the great thing about Sullivan's Travels opening scene is that it has a fight scene on a moving train. And for the firs three minutes or so you don't know what's going on but you're curious as to what's going on.

But the end credits roll and you hear Joel McCrea start taking about films. This sets off what is a purely dialogue-driven scene. The speed in which the dialogue is delivered sets the pace right away in the sense that this is gonna be a fast-moving film. It is funny dialogue, parodying the filmmaking business, which clearly shows the tone of the film. The best line that keeps getting repeated is that the film be "with a little sex in it." But there's talk of Communists and a running joke on Pittsburgh I had no idea dated back at least to the 1940s.

There's no introduction of a female lead at this point, but clearly this film isn't about love, although love does factor in later on. Or rather the love is different. This is, if anything, a love affair Sullivan has with films. He's so dead-set on making a drama about poverty, but doesn't know the first thing about trouble, which the producers make clear to him. This gives him the bone-headed idea to go live as a tramp to find out in order to make that meaningful film he wants to make. So while there is no romantic interest at this point in the form of a female lead, you could argue that Sullivan's romantic interest here is film, or maybe the perfect film he so imagines. The producers push the musical or comedy but he wants none of it, so of course we get the hint that this might just be what is the perfect film for him.

This quick opening scene does just the trick in grabbing your attention. It's clear that Sullivan's Travels is another film that's redefining the comedy genre but still grasping on to screwball roots. The tone and pace is set straight away and we're introduced to the main character and conflict straight off as well. There's nothing ambiguous going on here. On the contrary, we can be sure we're gonna have a great laugh for the next 90 minutes.

Sullivan's Travels (1942)

I saw Sullivan’s Travels for the first time a few years ago and laughed so much, really enjoyed it, but didn’t see it again until recently. And it’s a shame because I really, really like this film. It’s so well made that I can’t say enough about it. And it’s such a good film to kind of wrap up the whole screwball comedy genre, and I’m so upset that I haven’t had time to properly watch this film this past month! So this last week I’m gonna try to take a closer look at it as best as I can.

The thing that stands out admirably so in this film is the way that it's funny. A lot of times you see stories that are funny but there are different types of funny. Some people might enjoy innuendoes while others like gross-out humor, and still others like physical comedy. What Preston Sturges shows in this film is that he's a master when it comes to comedy. He doesn't just have the dialogue so vital to a screwball comedy to back him up, he can also rely on his slapstick humor.

There are many great bits of dialogue throughout, many of which are delivered so deadpan serious that it makes you laugh. Back then at least you didn't really hear or see a parody of the filmmaking business like Sturges manages to do. It's great to see the producers being so candid about a film needing a bit of sex, and delivered with the seriousness of terminal illness. When Sullivan and the Girl meet at the diner, there we see some lovely bit of banter so reminiscent of the genre. And then there's Sullivan's crew who always come back with great one-liners. The film's filled with great dialogue but if you already know Sturges then you expected it.

But just like the dialogue, Sturges executes these great montages. There is so much physical comedy here that works well. There's this car chase scene that's reminiscent of one of those cartoon from vintage Disney or Looney Tunes, but then really thinking about it, it's more like the slapstick of silent films. This is more clear halfway through the film when Sullivan and the Girl are in the midst of the wandering homeless, and trying to survive. Their initial observations and experience are quite hilarious, more so their final reaction which is to run back home.

And what of the leads? I often think not enough love is given to Joel McCrea. He might come off a bit stiff sometimes, kinda just delivering lines a bit, but I think Sturges uses him here marvelously. And who's gonna complain about seeing a shirtless McCrea? I didn't count the times but I probably should next time. Veronica Lake is also lovely. This film was the first one I saw her in and it was refreshing considering I thought she might be a bit of a vamp. She comes off so down-to-earth and funny. I absolutely love the scene in which she and McCrea first share. She can hold up her own against him and I like her for it.

Now, considering this is mostly Joel McCrea's film, the supporting cast does a great job whenever they're on screen. Sturges uses his stock company so well that whenever they're on screen they steal the show. I enjoy watching those scenes so much just to see they're acting. The actors themselves are so in sync with one another that it adds to the hilarity and makes it go so much faster and smoother.

This very funny film is a must see for any classic film fan or comedy fan in general. Sullivan's Travels is one of those films in which you can truly appreciate the effort taken to make the film. That it's not just funny dialogue but funny to watch and with a great cast all around, makes it a memorable film and a good addition to the comedy genre.

A final look at His Girl Friday

There's so much that's good about His Girl Friday. From the script to the great pairing of Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell, this film really turns out to be such a memorable screwball comedy.

Like all great screwballs, and really all films in general, the opening scene is key to the success of a good film. This film sets the tone and pace of the story by creating deadlines, much like in the world of journalism, plus the sense of urgency. The pace is quick, which allows for mayhem that is sure to entertain all.

There's also the great teaming of Grant and Russell. It's funny to read that she was actually quite nervous about her role because she does such a flawless job throughout the film. She keeps up with Grant and is obviously a great match for him. Both of them react well to one another, kinda like finishing each other's lines.

The dialogue is another strength here. While there's plenty of it, the dialogue is orchestrated in a way so that it's smooth, funny, and rolling along. Never does the dialogue slow the story down. There's a great handling of exposition by making the dialogue funny and entertaining for the viewer.

Now there is one difference in this film from other screwballs in that there isn't the usual emphasis of the rich vs. the working class. Instead here's a journalism satire. But it manages to work as a screwball comedy because it evolves the genre due to the changing times. It's only appropriate that the focus switches but more particularly that the screwball can be adapted to poke fun at other areas and not just societal classes. Even still, while this film is in the world of journalism, there is still a love story at the center and a screwball hero pulling all sorts of tricks to get his girl back.

Considering the time passing, you would think that the screwball was retiring, but with His Girl Friday it's quite apparent that the genre is still alive in 1940. Howard Hawks helmed a memorable screwball comedy by using all the ingredients necessary for the genre but also by taking it a step forward and molding it to a screwball more suitable for the times. It's a wonderful and hilarious screwball comedy all around.