BRINGING UP BABY: Blu-ray (RKO, 1938) Criterion
Yep, the one about the leopard, the scatterbrain and
the paleontologist is finally here. In 1938, director, Howard Hawks unfurled
his prized answer to a decade’s worth of screwball comedy with Bringing Up
Baby, a divinely inspired farce, alas, to fail and catch the popular zeitgeist
with audiences and put the neck of an already cash-strapped RKO Studios on the
proverbial chopping block. Quite a turkey, indeed. The fault was not in Hawks’ movie,
to go on and be hailed as an irrefutable screwball masterpiece, but likely in
the casting of Katharine Hepburn in the lead. Hepburn had been one of RKO’s
greatest assets until an uneven spate of pictures did much to bludgeon her
appeal…so much, in fact, that in only a few short years she had gone from a
beloved and Oscar-winning ingenue to ‘has been’, labeled, along with other such
luminaries as Joan Crawford and Fred Astaire, as ‘box office poison’. Today, we
take Kate ‘the great’ Hepburn for granted. But in 1932, the year she shocked
audiences with her stunningly forthright performance in A Bill of
Divorcement, Hepburn was more than an unknown commodity. She was a total
original and virtual anathema to all those Hollywood-groomed glamour gals and
otherwise docile damsel in distress types, mere decorous ‘shrinking violets’ to
augment a man’s world. To be sure, there
were other tough gals kicking around Hollywood in Hepburn’s time. But none that
would dare aspire to call themselves a ‘leading lady’. No, Hepburn’s type did
not exist as far as the pictures were concerned. The other consideration here
was that Hepburn had already co-starred with Cary Grant in George Cukor’s
shocking gender-bender, Sylvia Scarlett (1935) a big bomb at RKO to
disgust some critics, and all but alienated the rest. Ditto for the audience.
So, to see Hepburn and Grant sharing a marquee once more may have conjured to
mind the bitter aftertaste of their first effort, with the promise of an acrider
trace to follow. Hepburn and Grant would
rectify this only slightly with another ill-received comedy gem directed by
Cukor, Holiday – made and released over at Columbia the same year as Bringing
Up Baby. Whatever the case, Bringing Up Baby left Hawks, Hepburn, and
RKO holding the bag – literally.
What no one likely counted on was the slam/bang
screenplay by Dudley Nichols and Hagar Wilde (based on his short story in
Collier’s Magazine), with uncredited assists from Robert McGowan and Gertrude
Purcell. The story moves like gangbusters from one joyously idiotic vignette to
the next. Nor, likely, could anyone then fathom that the discounting of a new
and revitalized Hepburn, in her first comedy, knocking one out of the
proverbial park as the amusedly obtuse and sexy, Susan Vance, the ideal foil
for Grant’s intellectual egghead, Dr. David Huxley, would lead the actress on
to infinitely bigger and better things very shortly. Grant used silent
comedian, Harold Lloyd as his inspiration, and indeed, in Bringing Up Baby,
Grant offers up an unusually crisp and giddy, perpetually bewildered, and occasionally
flustered performance that is riotous and raw. Only the year before, Hawks had
signed a contract with RKO to adapt Rudyard Kipling's Gunga Din. But
when the studio’s hopeful plans to borrow Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy and
Franchot Tone from Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer fell through, Hawks began working on a
new project to fill his contractual commitments. On Hawks’ say-so, RKO bought
the rights to Hagar Wilde’s short story for a cool $1,004. Its reincarnation on
the screen added subplots never entertained in print. In the original story, David
and Susan are engaged. He is not a paleontologist and there is no dinosaur, no intercostal
clavicle and no prior commitments to his museum to fulfill. Susan does get a
pet panther to give to her Aunt Elizabeth, and, as before, the darling cat
escapes, only to be retrieved by the burgeoning couple, who serenade it with ‘I
Can't Give You Anything but Love, Baby’.
Admiring Dudley Nichols’ authorship for John Ford,
Hawks hired him to ‘improve’ upon Wilde’s short story, also casting Wilde to
oversee the integrity of Nichols’ evolution of the characters he had original
created and fallen in love with, remained intact. Hawks disliked the elaborate
pie fight written into the 202-page screenplay, as it reminded him too much of
the broad Mack Sennett 2-reelers of yore. The fight was out. Also, big game
hunter, Major Horace Applegate (Charles Ruggles), initially had an assistant/food
taster - Ali (who ought to have been played by Mischa Auer), the character
eventually re-written as gardener, Aloysius Gogarty (Barry Fitzgerald). Hawks also decided David and Susan should
never declare their love for each other until the very end. Nichols was
instructed by Hawks to favor Hepburn’s character in the writing. Some have
suggested the relationship between David and Susan was actually based on Hepburn’s
rumored love affair with director, John Ford. This had gone south by the time Bringing
Up Baby went into production. While
Ford did not object to the rumored parallels in David and Susan’s relationship,
the shooting was nevertheless delayed until mid-September to iron out a legal harangue
over rights to the song, ‘I Can Give You Anything But Love, Baby’ for $1000.
Believing the screenplay still needed an added kick, Hawks quietly hired McGowan
and Purcell to crisp-up the dialogue, the pair’s major contribution – a scene
where ‘Skippy’ (a.k.a. George, in this movie, a.k.a. Asta of the Thin Man
franchise) buries David’s prized dinosaur bone somewhere in the backyard.
Today, Bringing Up Baby is frequently noted for
one picaresque moment where Grant’s flummoxed academic, shorn down to his
unmentionables and forced into Susan’s lace and marabou-trimmed negligée, in a
fit of frustration, responds to the conservative inquiry and accusatory glances
from her Aunt Elizabeth Carlton Random (May Robson) with the zinger, “Because
I just went ‘gay’ all of a sudden!” Grant’s exasperated leap into the air,
precisely on the word ‘gay’ has led many scholars to assume it to be among the
first to flirt with blue humor and a nod to homosexual subtext. But this, quite
simply is not the case, as ‘gay’ was not referenced in conjunction with men of
the homosexual persuasion until 1969. Likely Grant was cribbing off the
backlash he had endured throughout most of the 1930’s for sharing a fashionable
bungalow by the sea in Santa Monica with fellow actor, Randolph Scott. Indeed,
rumors swirled around these two Hollywood heartthrobs’ and their ‘friendship’ behind
closed doors, even more so after a photo spread in a popular fan mag, designed
to dispel such gossip, inadvertently fueled the fire by showing Grant and Scott
lazing together around the pool or relaxing in front of the fire. To be clear,
Grant and Scott were not lovers, as several of Grant’s later wives have
attested to his proclivity with the fairer sex. And furthermore, it was not at
all uncommon in the early half of the 20th century for rising stars
to share expenses on a fashionable property neither could otherwise afford on a
single salary. Indeed, David Niven had shared a home with Errol Flynn around
this time that Niven later, smartly recalled in his autobiography as ‘Cirrhosis
by the Sea’ – in reference to all their binge drinking parties.
Like most creative endeavors, Bringing Up Baby
went through its preliminary hiccups before eventually settling into the
work-a-day environment of a film shoot.
Hawks had initially toyed with the idea of casting his cousin, comedienne
Carol Lombard as Susan. Producers Pandro S. Berman and Cliff Reid, however, thought
of Hepburn instead, as her New England background bode well with the character
as described in Wilde’s short story. RKO was apprehensive. Indeed, Hepburn had
not had a hit to her name in 2 years. Even the pictures that made money barely
broke even. While Hawks willingly conceded to Hepburn as his leading lady, he
could not think of a single actor to play David, save silent comedian, Harold
Lloyd (on whom Cary Grant eventually based his interpretation). Lloyd, a
one-time legend of the silents, had faltered in the sound era. Hawks suggested
Ronald Coleman, whom Berman disliked. The pitch then went to Robert Montgomery,
Fredric March and Ray Milland with no takers. Howard Hughes, a close friend of
Hawks, suggested Cary Grant who had just completed the sparkling screwball, The
Awful Truth (1937) for Leo McCarey. Hawks liked what he saw and Grant was
case. Under a non-exclusive, 4-picture contract with RKO at an impressive
$50,000 a pop, a new contract was drawn up, raising Grant’s salary by $25,000.
Fearful the part would stretch his ‘range’ beyond what he could deliver, Grant balked
at first, and, until Hawks assured him, he would be perfect in the role. Now,
Hawks set about assembling the rest of his roster from the best in the biz.
From Paramount, he borrowed Charlie Ruggles, and from The Mary Pickford Corp.,
Barry Fitzgerald. A bit of family nepotism helped starlet, Virginia Walker secure
the role of Alice Swallow, David’s fiancée. Walker was not only under contract
to Hawks – she was dating his brother, William. The two would eventually wed.
In Wilde’s short story, ‘Baby’ is a panther, not a
leopard. Alas, no panther could be found to fit the bill. So, Hawks fell to
Nissa, a trained leopard, already an 8-yr. veteran in the picture-making biz. It
should be pointed out that when dealing with wild animals, ‘trained’ is a
relative term – something Kate Hepburn discovered when playing a scene with the
spotted cat. Nissa suddenly lunged at her costar, to be subdued by her trainer,
Olga Celeste’s whip. While Hepburn took the incident in stride, her co-star,
Cary Grant was absolutely terrified of jungle cat, resulting in Hawks
exploiting some creative ways to have them appear together on film without
actually being together, using traveling mattes and rear projection to keep
Grant and Nissa apart. Budgeted at $767,676, Bringing Up Baby divided
its time between Arthur Ranch in the San Fernando Valley, the Bel Air Country
Club and standing sets on both the RKO and 2oth Century-Fox backlots. Concerned
his leading lady was hamming it up too much for the camera, Hawks had Vaudeville
veteran, Walter Catlett coax Hepburn through her initial spate of scenes.
Hepburn admired Catlett’s abilities and insisted Hawks cast him as Constable
Slocum in the movie. The relatively relaxed atmosphere on the set elongated the
production shoot when both Grant and Hepburn could not contain their laughter
and frequently ruined their takes. But Hawks was also guilty of ‘exploring’ a
scene to its finite degree, often shooting more coverage than was actually
needed, and also, shutting down production to attend a horse race in which he
had bet a considerable chunk of change. The net result was that Bringing Up Baby
came in 40 days over schedule. And although the budget for props and sets only
rose by an additional $5,000, actors’ salaries, as per their original
agreement, ballooned to nearly double. Hepburn's $72,500 became $121,680.50, while
Grant’s went from $75,000 to $123,437.50 and Hawks’ from $88,046.25 to $202,500
with an additional $40,000 to terminate his RKO contract on March 21, 1938.
Bringing Up Baby opens with David
Huxley’s deep intellectual contemplation. For four years, he has been trying to
assemble the skeleton of a Brontosaurus, missing a vital bone in its
construction: the ‘intercostal clavicle.’ Adding to his consternation – an agreed
upon marriage to the stuffy, Alice Swallow; also, David’s desire to impress the
museum’s benefactress, Elizabeth Random. On the cusp of marital bliss…or some
such rot…David meets Susan Vance whose scattershot logic on the golf course
creates quite a wrinkle in his otherwise seemingly well-ordered world. David is
at once exasperated yet drawn to the free-spirited Susan, whom he later
gallantly shields from public embarrassment when, inadvertently, he tears open
her evening gown, exposing her backside. Meanwhile, Susan’s brother, Mark has
bequeathed her a tame leopard from Brazil – the titular Baby. Assuming David is
a zoologist, Susan convinces David to accompany them both to her farm in
Connecticut. There, love reluctantly takes hold…at least, for Susan, and she
repeatedly delays David’s departure, even stealing his clothes, resulting in
the aforementioned moment when Sue’s Aunt Elizabeth arrives and, finding David
in her niece’s negligee, putting to him the question of why he is dressed in
such a manner.
The situation is further complicated when David’s
prized intercostal clavicle is buried somewhere on the farm by Elizabeth’s dog,
George. Meanwhile, a telegram from Mark clarifies that Baby is meant for Liz,
not Sue. In the ensuing kerfuffle, Baby escapes and Susan and David rush off to
find George, who is leading them on a wild chase through the woods in search of
the bone buried somewhere on the property. The hilarity reaches its zenith when
an identical leopard escapes from a nearby circus, leaving David and Susan to
discern which is actually the docile Baby and the wild animal, meant to likely
do them harm. The ruckus created by their midnight skulking lands David and
Susan in jail, with the befuddled Constable Slocum quite unable to disentangle
the particulars of the situation until fellow scientist, Alexander Peabody
(George Irving) arrives on the scene to explain away the situation. Taking
advantage of the chaos, Susan escapes with the wrong leopard. The animal turns
on her, allowing David to be chivalrous, ushering the violent cat into another
jail cell. Discovering the dissolution of David’s pending marriage to Alice,
Susan arrives at the museum the next afternoon to find David high atop a
scaffold, assembling his Brontosaurus. Climbing the rickety ladder to be with
him, Susan inadvertently causes this monstrous reconstruction to crumble, with
David barely able to rescue her from a terrible fall. Faced with his rigidly structured
life in tatters, David throws caution to the wind and embraces Susan. She is
his soulmate.
Eighty-three years after its theatrical debut, Bringing
Up Baby remains a witty and farce-laden joy to watch. Hawks’ expedient pacing
and the rapid-fire delivery of dialogue by Grant and Hepburn are miracles of
screen concision, getting every last laugh out of their adlibs and scripted moments,
which come off with thunderous and, at least the illusion of impromptu hilarity
from start to finish. Two ‘sneak peeks’ suggested RKO had a real bell-ringer on
their hands. And while it did, in fact, garner some high praise and do
respectable business in parts of the U.S., Bringing Up Baby proved
colossal flop in larger venues like New York’s famed Radio City, where it only
made $70,000 and was pulled after only one week. Its paltry U.S. gross of $715,000
was only slightly offset by another $394,000 in foreign markets and a reissue
in 1941, to earn an additional $150,000 worldwide. But for RKO, blame for the
picture’s failure could be laid at Hawks’ feet. Thus, they seized upon the
opportunity to release Hawks from his studio contract 2-years ahead of schedule,
resulting in Gunga Din being directed by George Stevens. RKO also
decided it was time to say goodbye to Katharine Hepburn. She left the studio,
somewhat in disgrace, already branded ‘box office poison’ by Harry Brandt, the
president of the Independent Theatre Owners of America. Ultimately, however,
Hepburn had the last laugh, enjoying a colossal run in Broadway’s The Philadelphia
Story, written by her good friend, Philip Barrie. When it ended, Hepburn
bought the rights to the play, in effect, forcing MGM – desperate to make a
picture of it – to cast her in the lead, resulting in a total vindication of
her reputation within the industry and a complete relaunch of her movie career.
And the picture? Well, when Howard Hughes elected to sell off his interests in
RKO, he retained the rights to only 6-movies from its catalog; Bringing Up
Baby being one of them. Endlessly revived as late-night TV fodder, the
picture developed a cult following to surprise each new generation of film critic
with its perennially appealing vigor and freshness.
For some time now, Bringing Up Baby has been
regarded as the quintessential screwball comedy – a reputation that, alas, did
not hasten its arrival to hi-def home video. Now, Criterion has released it to
Blu-ray with elements archived by the National Film Registry in 1990, and,
supplied by Warner Bros., the present-day custodians. While the results are
intermittently pleasing, the overall availability, or lack thereof, of
surviving original elements has resulted in a 1080p transfer that, while much
improved over Warner’s own standard DVD release from 2001, nevertheless falls
considerably short of expectations. Owing partly to Russell Metty’s diffused
cinematography, the chief characteristic of this new 4K digital transfer is a
grain-heavy softness with marginally improved contrast and more distinguished black
levels. Odd, the image has been ever so slightly reframed herein. We lose some
information on the top right and side, but gain it at the bottom and left. While
fine details can look rather solid in close-up, long shots still lack
razor-sharp clarity. Criterion’s PCM
mono audio is flat and occasionally tinny. Ported over from the 2005 DVD
release, the informative audio commentary by Peter Bogdanovich. Author Scott Eyman’s
19-min. video essay on Cary Grant is the highlight of this new Blu-ray release,
augmented by another 11-mins. where cinematographer, John Bailey pays tribute
to Metty’s contributions. Film scholar, Craig Barron weighs in on Linwood Dunn’s
SFX. We get 22-mins. of scene specific commentary from costume historian,
Shelly Foote, on Howard Greer’s clothes for the picture. Criterion has also
licensed the 1977 doc, Howard Hawks: A Hell of a Good Life, featuring
the last interview with Hawks. A 36-min. audio interview with Cary Grant from
1969 features some wonderful insight as do audio excerpts from a 1972
conversation between Hawks and Bogdanovich. Criterion rounds out the goodies
with a careworn trailer and liner notes from critic, Sheila O’Malley. Bottom
line: Bringing Up Baby is a comedy gemstone. While the film has lost none
of its luster over the generations, the remastering efforts here skew to the
less impressive spectrum. Can it ever look better than this? Not likely. For
content alone, and, of course, Criterion’s wonderful assemblage of goodies –
very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the
best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
5+
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