Cary Grant

  • People Will Talk (1951)

    People Will Talk (1951)

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) As much as I enjoy watching Cary Grant in every single film he’s made (well, maybe not Penny Serenade), I’m clearly done with the best and watching the rest in tackling People Will Talk. While the film is not a terrible one, I’m having a hard time deciding whether it’s a lower middle-tier or a higher lower-tier film. Here, Grant plays a doctor (a handsome one, naturally) who comes under scrutiny while working in a medical school. Mystery accompanies his earlier years, and the compassion he shows for others won’t stop an enemy from denouncing him to the authorities, lining up an inquiry with suspicious parallels to the McCarthy witch-hunts of the time. If the film has a hidden asset, it’s clearly writer-director Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s script. The acerbic dialogue is slightly toned down and the melodramatic plotting feels overdone, but the film nonetheless feels more ambitious than many of its contemporaries. A lot of heavy lifting is done by Grant’s natural charm in order to smooth over some of the film’s rougher edges, even if it doesn’t always work. Never mind the twenty-year age gap between him and his co-star Jeanne Crain—it’s the mixture of genres that doesn’t quite gel as comedy, romance, drama and mystery attempt to blend together. It’s not uninteresting to watch, but there’s a sense that something isn’t quite right with the results and that Mankiewicz could have used an editor to tell him where to focus. Grant is irreproachable but the film around him isn’t, and the result is something that doesn’t rank all that highly in his filmography despite intriguing elements.

  • Crisis (1950)

    Crisis (1950)

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) Cary Grant steps away from romantic comedies to a thriller in Crisis, a film in which he plays a surgeon coerced into performing a life-saving operation on a South American dictator. Grant is impeccable as usual, but even he can’t quite slip into a role absent most of his strengths as an actor. Still, it’s not an uninteresting film — the buildup to the main narrative is not bad, what with a rich American and his wife getting dragged into their holiday destination’s politics without their consent, and then being forced to operate. There’s a strong medical ethics drama forced on the protagonist, as even an imperceptible slip of the fingers could change the course of an entire country — alas, the film doesn’t quite fulfill this premise, as other events prevent an honest resolution to this dilemma. Still, there’s some tension to the proceedings, especially in the increasingly thornier second act. This is not Grant at his finest, but it does feature him in a style close to his Hitchcock thrillers and dispensing with most of the acting tricks in his usual repertoire.   As such, and considering that most of the film generally holds up reasonably well, Crisis remains a good pick for seasoned Grant fans, if only to see him tackle something slightly different, and dispense with most of what made him such a fan favourite.

  • Indiscreet (1958)

    Indiscreet (1958)

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) There’s a freshness of approach in Indiscreet that makes it one of Cary Grant’s most satisfying late-career films. At the time, the fifty-something Grant was branching out in producing his own films, and starting to struggle with the growing age gulf between him and his on-screen love interests. What makes Indiscreet special in the middle of such films as Houseboat and Charade is that it’s a romance between two middle-aged protagonists —and an age difference of merely eleven years between Grant and co-star Ingrid Bergman, practically insignificant by Hollywood standards. (By comparison, Grant/Hepburn was fourteen years, Grant/Day was seventeen years, and Grant/Loren was twenty years —not that they all played their age.)  This meeting-of-equals of the characters (him a respected economist, her a well-known actress) gives Indiscreet a level of maturity not often seen in romantic comedies of the time, as both of them have ghosts to exorcise before committing to each other. To be fair, I found Indiscreet’s first half more classically interesting than the second — the process in which both characters cautiously choose to enter a relationship and have fun in its early days (all the way to a synchronized split-screen scene, said to be the first film to do so) is more interesting than the increasingly contrived complications keeping them apart in the second half. Grant is his usual smooth self here, with Bergman looking as radiant as she usually does. As directed by Stanley Donen, the film is a bit lighter on laughs than you’d maybe expect, but it remains mostly lighthearted throughout, as the obvious exception of the climactic sequence in which everything seems lost (but isn’t). Indiscreet remains a good example of how polished the Cary Grant persona was at that point of his career (he simply has to appear for the characters to go “wow!”), and without the lingering problematic implications of him being involved with much younger co-stars.

  • Holiday (1938)

    Holiday (1938)

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) I was somehow under the impression that Holiday was a major film, but that may have as much to do with it being a reunion between Cary Grant, Kathleen Hepburn and director George Cukor than any specific merit in the film itself. Oh, it’s not bad— but it’s liable to come up short when compared to either Bringing up Baby or The Philadelphia Story. The story does make near-perfect use of Grant as a promising young man who, as the story begins, discovers that his holiday romantic partner is a rich heiress and that her family expects a man of his accomplishments and potential to become a potential successor to the family dynasty. He has other plans, though: Tired of having worked nearly twenty years before taking this first recent holiday, he intends to retire young in order to enjoy life. His fiancée doesn’t have the same hopes, but as it turns out her free-spirited sister does, and given that she’s played by Katharine Hepburn, it’s practically over for the other one as soon as Kate walks into the film. Directed by Cukor, Holiday is a mildly funny comedy of self-discovery and affirmation rather than the kind of silly screwball farce that could have been. Adapted from a theatrical play (with one supporting actor, Edward Everett Horton, reprising the same role), it’s gentle and often melancholic, leading to a very quick conclusion that almost raises as many questions and doubts as it resolves. Still, Grant is Grant, and you do get a classic moment of growing exasperation as a curl pops out of his perfectly manicured hair. He gets to demonstrate his skills as an acrobat and shares a great rapport with Hepburn, all the way to a classic sequence in which they perform dangerous-looking spills together. The 1930s humour feels familiar and strange at once, especially during a scene in which the characters throw a Nazi salute to mock some of their stuffy relatives. Considering that one of the film’s major themes is about breaking free of the dull orthodoxy in order to live a free life, it makes sense that entire stretches of the film don’t contain many laughs nor opportunities for Grant to shine. But if Holiday is not the laugh riot I was expecting, it’s still absorbing enough to be worth a look, and a great showcase in Grant’s first decade of acting.

  • Every Girl Should Be Married (1948)

    Every Girl Should Be Married (1948)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) With a title like Every Girl Should Be Married, it’s fair to say that the film won’t ever win any progressive awards. If you happen to watch the now-hilarious trailer, your expectations may run even lower. But the movie itself is a bit more mixed – starting with the heroine’s deeply held belief that women should be free to make the first move (hurrah) but continuing with the same heroine going for some good old-fashioned stalking instead (boo). Of course, the target of her affection is played by Cary Grant, who effortlessly deflects all of her attempts until it’s time for him to yield and for the film to end. Let’s admit right away that Every Girl Should Be Married is a middle-tier Grant film, perhaps even a lower-tier one. Grant is charming enough to make it worthwhile, but there’s a limit to how much he can elevate the material. Playing opposite him is Besty Drake, who would become Grant’s third wife not even a year after the release of the film. (Not that it will make you feel better, but they started dating before the shoot.) It’s certainly not unwatchable – you can make an argument that the female protagonist has a lot more agency than most of the female romantic comedy protagonists of the time. But Grant has made enough good-to-great romantic comedies that even an intermittently interesting one can feel like a step backward.

  • That Touch of Mink (1962)

    That Touch of Mink (1962)

    (On Cable TV, November 2020) Film scholars are quick to note that That Touch of Mink really wasn’t Cary Grant’s favourite film. By that time in his career, thirty years in the business, Grant felt that his best years were behind him: he was getting more difficult to sell as a romantic lead (something that would be apparent in the following year’s Charade, otherwise a high point of his career), his favourite directors were slowing down or retiring, and American society was changing in unpredictable ways. Having formed his own production company, he backed That Touch of Mink as a good commercial prospect and was proven right when the film finished fourth at the 1962 box office. Thematically, the film fits squarely with the low-key, somewhat quaintly charming sex comedies of the early 1960s—playing with the idea of more permissive social mores without quite bringing itself to embrace the thought. As a result, the film occasionally feels like a throwback to earlier movies, as Grant and Doris Day engage in a whirlwind romance punctuated by the question of “will they or won’t they?” There are quite a few engaging period details here, from an extended sequence in an automat, baseball legend cameos, a scene set inside a Univac computer room and a funny supporting role from Gig Young as an academic acting as Grant’s conscience. Unfortunately, it also comes with a side order of homophobic panic, a less than impressive ending and a first act that, with slight variations, plays like a humourless take on the opening for Written on the Wind. Then there’s the age of the leads: Grant was a seasoned 58-year-old, while Day herself was 38, playing a character easily fifteen years younger. That Touch of Mink is watchable, even amusing and certainly charming for fans of Grant or Day… but really not a career high point for anyone.

  • Houseboat (1958)

    Houseboat (1958)

    (On TV, November 2020) Cary Grant and Sofia Loren. That’s it—that’s the reason to see Houseboat, and I don’t have to add anything more. But for the form: Houseboat is a romantic comedy featuring a newly-widowed government officer (Grant), who ends up with three unfamiliar kids in his small Washington apartment. Looking for relief, he ends up hiring what he thinks is an Italian nanny in need of a job (Loren), without quite understanding that she’s the daughter of a famous musical figure wanting to escape a difficult situation. The remaining key to Houseboat’s plot comes when they decide to get out of Washington for the summer and go live on a houseboat that ends up being far less luxurious than expected. Silver-haired Grant is in fully charming form here as the slightly befuddled dad and romantic interest to two women. The romance is messier than expected—despite the inevitability of the final pairing, I can’t help that the film made the wrong choice along the way. Still, it’s a rather fun film, with the expected doofus-daddy antics, the romantic charm and the often-interesting period depiction of late-1950s Washington, DC. Behind-the-scenes, Houseboat is famous for having been written by and for Grant’s second wife Besty Drake, with a role quickly recast and rewritten for Loren after she started an affair with Grant on the set of another film… an affair that ended before shooting wrapped on Houseboat—the perils of Hollywood dating! It doesn’t make the film any better or worse, although you can detect some remnants of other plans in the sometimes-zig-zagging script. I still liked Houseboat, but it isn’t a first-tier Grant.

  • Thirty Day Princess (1934)

    Thirty Day Princess (1934)

    (On Cable TV, October 2020) Cary Grant wasn’t always Cary Grant—his accession to Hollywood superstardom was the result of refining his screen persona until it hit an apex, quite unlike the young man born Archibald Leach. Thirty Day Princess hangs at the end of Grant’s apprenticeship in the movies—right before his breakthrough in Sylvia Scarlett, but already demonstrating his talent for suave, confident leading men. He’s not the star of the film—that would be Sylvia Sidney, playing a dual role as both a foreign princess come to America on a fundraising tour, and a young struggling actress who’s asked to impersonate the princess during a bout of illness. Grant plays the love interest—an influential New York City paper owner who is seduced by the actress playing princess. It’s a fair comedy: not hilarious by any means, but decently amusing and probably a film most viewers haven’t yet seen unless they’ve dug down deep in the Grant filmography. Its (barely) Pre-Code nature can be most clearly seen in some of the banter between princess and actress, as royalty lives vicariously through the impersonator’s romantic episodes. I really enjoyed the look inside an Automat—a relic of a past age that, somehow, always earns my fascination. Thirty Day Princess is not a film for the ages, but it’s watchable enough, gets a few laughs and certainly doesn’t overstay its welcome at a mere 74 minutes. Plus, you get Grant as a young thirty-year-old, a bit rough around the edges but already showing the world what everyone would love from him a few years later.

  • Once Upon a Honeymoon (1942)

    Once Upon a Honeymoon (1942)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) You really can’t go wrong with a combination of Cary Grant and Ginger Rogers, especially not in Once Upon a Honeymoon, a propaganda romantic comedy film (!) in which Grant (as a journalist) helps Rogers (playing a burlesque performer passing as a high-society woman) unmask her fiancé as a Nazi. Travelling through Germany, her fiancé seems curiously involved in every country that falls to the invading German forces, eventually forcing her to work for the American government in unmasking him. Once Upon a Honeymoon was clearly meant as propaganda considering how, despite its jolly tone, Rogers’ character ends up murdering her Nazi fiancé at the climax for the picture (he had it coming – it was self-defence) and everyone laughs it up as the only good Nazi being a dead Nazi. (They’re right, but it’s still a bit jarring considering how Grant makes funny faces in the middle of it all.) That ending sequence is the cap on what is indeed a bit of an uneven film, shifting between serious thriller and fluffy romantic comedy at the drop of a hat and then over again. It’s a certainly a curio in that Grant tries to play his character both as a romantic lead and a thriller hero. I’m not sure there were that many romantic comedies taking aim at Nazis, and I’ll always welcome one more. I’ll probably have another look at Once Upon a Honeymoon eventually, knowing what to expect.

  • Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948)

    Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) Some experiences transcend time and space, and so the premise described by Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House carries through the decades all the way to now. While I haven’t had the experience of contracting the building of a new house, I have enough experience with major renovations to sympathize with the lead character as he engineers his family’s move from a cramped Manhattan apartment to a Connecticut country estate… which has to be torn down and built anew. Cary Grant is perfect for the demands of the role: he can go from patrician to bewildered in the same scene, not to mention a climactic scene of righteous indignation at the accumulated costs of his new house. Numerous comic sketches pepper the rather simple narrative – obviously, this is a film meant to put one comic set-piece after another, and gradually crank the pressure on the protagonist until he cracks. Grant does get a few capable actors to play with: Myrna Loy makes for a very reasonable wife (except for her flower sink, whatever that is), while Melvyn Douglas brings the snark into the movie as a sarcastic friend/lawyer trying to keep the protagonist out of trouble, only to fall into the same madness from time to time. The picture of dealing with contractors is still hilariously accurate, although a jealousy subplot seems to fit badly. While the film is a comic success, modern audiences may find less to laugh about in a few scenes: There’s a tone-deaf breakfast table discussion in which the children talk about their progressive ideals, for instance… while a black maid works behind them. Later on, that same black maid provides a creative spark that the lead character desperately needs to keep his new house – and while the film acknowledges her contribution by giving her a whole ten-dollar raise, it does leave a less-than-ideal impression. Oh well – this is a film from the late 1940s, after all. Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House is about as funny as its titles suggest – it got quite a few honest laughs from me, and not all of the film’s success can be attributed to Grant as the headliner.

  • I Was a Male War Bride (1949)

    I Was a Male War Bride (1949)

    (On TV, July 2020) How can anyone resist Howard Hawks reteaming with Cary Grant, with Ann Sheridan as a co-star? While I Was a Male War Bride can be accused of stretching a mildly amusing real-life anecdote over nearly two hours, even its uneven nature doesn’t quite take away from the pleasure of seeing Hawks handle comedy, of having Cary Grant goof off in a solid role, or Sheridan as the foil to Grant’s good-natured willingness to make fun of himself. Much of the film’s first half seems disconnected to the title, as a French officer (Grant) and an American lieutenant (Sheridan) fall in love through a copious amount of romantic belligerence in postwar Europe. The title comes into focus midway through, as the film shifts gears, marries its protagonists and then becomes mired in the bureaucratic nightmare of having our square-jawed hero fall into the provisions made for repatriating spouses (usually women) of American soldiers. Kafka turns comic, as Grant repeatedly tries to navigate regulations made for a woman, going all the way to a gender-bending moment of crossdressing. Grant is a good sport throughout, playing with the assumed gender norms on which rest the fundamentals of this comedy. As usual for Hawks’s movies, his female characters are sharply drawn to be the equal of his male characters (even more obviously so in this case) and his dialogue is as fast as the actors can deliver it. While I Was a War Male Bride does not feature very highly on Hawks or Grant’s filmography, it’s a solid comedy and well worth a look for fans of the director or stars.

  • The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947)

    The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947)

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) As the title suggests, there is one potentially troubling March-June relationship in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer that would make any viewer apprehensive – especially considering that it’s a film from the 1940s. But fear not, enlightened twenty-first-century viewers: Even Classic Hollywood knew that thirtysomething bachelors (even one played by Cary Grant) should not mess around with 17-year-old girls with a crush. Much of the film’s comedy in this film is about the protagonist (Grant) trying to get together with an age-appropriate professional woman (Myrna Loy) while her younger sister (Shirley Temple) interferes. There’s just enough implied naughtiness to make things interesting—the rest is scene-by-scene comedy, as Grant plays both halves of his suave persona unafraid to be humiliated. Cleverly conceived (the script, penned by future potboiler bestseller Sidney Sheldon, won a Best Original Screenplay Academy Award), it’s unobtrusively put together by director Irving Reis and very easy to watch. Grant’s charm does most of the work, but there are also plenty of scattered laughs in the details—my favourite has to be a rapid-fire exchange about “The man with power of whodoo / Who do? / You do!” which sounds like the kind of period nonsense exchange immortalized on screen—and later quoted by David Bowie. While definitely a middle-tier Grant comedy, The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer remains a charmer despite a slightly suspicious premise, and a great showcase for its three stars.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, January 2021) Cary Grant had the looks and the charm that could make any kind of creepy nonsense seem amusing, and there’s no better proof of that statement than watching The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer, a film in which (as it says in the title) he suffers through an unrequited crush from a flighty teenager. Shirley Temple plays the titular bobby-soxer, but it’s Myrna Loy who’s the prize here as the teenager’s older sister, a judge whose tangles with Grant’s character leads to romance. Before that happens, however, there’s got to be plenty of sequences of misunderstandings, comic complications, bone-headed movie psychology, attempts from Grant’s character to divert his teenage admirer to a more appropriate partner, and some physical comedy along the way. To its credit, the film knows that pairing Grant (who was 43) and Temple (who was 19) is a terrible idea—and if that seems perfectly reasonable to you, keep in mind that other similar Hollywood movies, such as the 1954 farce Susan Slept Here, weren’t even able to do that. There are a few good set-pieces and lines of dialogue here: While I’m ambivalent about the outdoors sports scene, the last restaurant sequence is very funny—even if it ends in a way that leads the film to another ten minutes of decreasing interest as the conclusion peters out rather than build to a strong finale. (Hollywood obviously disagreed, because the film won a screenwriting Academy Award.)   The call-and-response, “The power of hoodoo.” “Who do?” “You do!” is also quite amusing, and wisely used as closing lines to wrap it up. In between Grant, Temple and Loy, The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer is an amiable-enough comedy that manages to steer itself away from some pitfalls that befell other similar films. It’s worth a look, especially for fans of the three lead actors.

  • Destination Tokyo (1943)

    Destination Tokyo (1943)

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) Not even Cary Grant in the leading role can raise Destination Tokyo’s profile above being a straight-up propaganda picture. Assembled in efficient wartime hurry, the narrative invents a dangerous submarine mission to plant spies near Tokyo in preparation for the Doolittle Raid. As one of the first big wartime submarine movies, it boldly invents what would become clichés of the form and indulges into blunt anti-enemy rhetoric –most notably by claiming that the Japanese devalue their women. If you can put aside Destination Tokyo’s straight-up propaganda value and methods, it’s not badly done: the portrait of life aboard a submarine is credibly portrayed in the buildup to the straightforward action sequences (even if the quarters are somewhat more spacious than in real life) and the Oscar-nominated script does fine with characterization. Destination Tokyo is also notable for decent-for-the-time special effects using a scale model in a water tank: they’re not all that credible today, but they certainly make their point. Grant is remarkable not simply for lending his usual charm to the production, but playing an out-of-persona dramatic role as a military man far removed from his usual romantic leads. But any prospective viewers should be reminded once more that Destination Tokyo was made to boost patriotism and recruitment at a time when the United States was at war against the Japanese with no idea about how it would end.

  • Night and Day (1946)

    Night and Day (1946)

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) As far as Hollywood biopics of famous composers go, Night and Day has three things going for it, even if the third is a double-edged sword. It’s in colour, it has good songs recognized as classics, and it features Cary Grant in the lead role as Cole Porter. But while Grant raises the profile of the film, no one ever mentions this film as one of his great roles: he’s not much of a singer, his screen persona is so distinct as to be unable to disappear in a specific role, and it’s not clear what he brings to the role that another actor couldn’t. Once past the songs, the colour and Grant, there’s not a whole lot left. Even Night and Day’s official TCM logline recognizes that it’s “fanciful”—which is code for saying that the openly gay Porter is here portrayed as straight, that nearly every biographical fact of his life has been altered and that the film doesn’t really care about accuracy—just reading his Wikipedia article is enough to make you realize just how “fanciful” the film is. Otherwise, Night and Day also sticks close to its Broadway-friendly topic by remaining resolutely theatre-bound, in subject matter and in staging. It’s all very old-fashioned even by 1940s standards, and that may not work for many newer viewers. Some forced comedy can’t quite shake the cobwebs out of this rather dull film, and its strengths can’t dispel its well-earned reputation as one of the least accurate Classic Hollywood biopics ever made.

  • The Talk of the Town (1942)

    The Talk of the Town (1942)

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) Heavier on the romance and lighter on the comedy, The Talk of the Town nonetheless remains a Cary Grant all-spectacular. The premise is archetypical enough, with an escape criminal finding refuge in the same cottage as a lawyer and the woman they both lust over. With Grant, Jean Arthur and Ronald Colman as the three points of the triangle, things quickly heat up. Grant remains utterly charming in the film’s mixture of laughs, suspense and romance—you would think that Colman would have trouble keeping up, but he does quite well in his inglorious role as the romantic rival. Worth noting: the jazzy opening sequence that crams a first act’s worth of exposition in a few minutes’ worth of spinning newspaper montages. Amazingly enough, the ending wasn’t decided until test screenings picked one romantic winner over the other. There are a few pacing issues, as well as some rough transitions from one tone to another, but The Talk of the Town remains a very satisfying blend of different things, with Grand, Colman and Arthur being equally enjoyable throughout it all.