Katharine Hepburn's Tracy Lord and Cary Grant's CK Dexter Haven have a romance that's about fifty years ahead of its time, made for the era of Aaron Sorkin, but lived out in the era of George Cukor, which is really just as good. There's something in the word play, the intelligence of the characters, the quickness of the wit ("No mean Machiavelli is smiling, cynical Sidney Kidd") that speaks to me on a deeper level. They are imperfect people living imperfect lives, but they're doing the best they can, and in the end they get something akin to happiness.
And then there's Bringing Up Baby.
I had the pleasure of watching it on screen at the Katharine Hepburn Cultural Arts Center this evening, a feat that might be considered redundant, since I totally own the DVD.
But man oh man, was it well worth the effort.
While The Philadelphia Story is the polished, civilized, urbane, adult romance, Bringing Up Baby is nothing less than a roiling madcap frenzy of ridiculousness. In the absolute best way possible.
Poor Cary Grant's David Huxley is a zoologist looking for funding for his museum. Nutty Kate's Susan Vance is an eccentric heiress looking for... well, somewhere to keep the pet leopard her brother sent up from Brazil. She may or may not also be looking for love.
Let's just say this: There's a zoologist in possession of a very important bone for his collection. There's a dog named George who steals and buries bones. There's a "good" leopard on the loose. There's also a "bad" leopard on the loose. There's an alcoholic gardener who's seen everything, a big-game hunter who can't recognize the leopard mating call ("it's a loon," indeed), a psychiatrist who continually falls victim to theft, and a sheriff so desperate to be re-elected that he locks up exactly the wrong people.
In the middle of it all are David and Susan, running around like lunatics (no wonder she's so skinny!) trying to find the bone, trying to capture the leopard, and trying to keep everyone else at bay. And also trying (well, at least she is) to fall in love. Is it realistic? Absolutely not. In fact, in the end, I'm not even sure why they like each other.
Kate is phenomenal. She bounces from scene to scene, lit with an energy that cannot be tamed. And that insane giggle, that perfectly screeched "Oh, David," gives Cary Grant the exact right balance for his deadpan slide into the gaslight.
It's funny, it's sweet, and it's the original screwball comedy. What more do you need than that?
Love.
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