Review #3

HIS GIRL FRIDAY  
Released: 1940
Director: Howard Hawks
Starring: Rosalind Russell & Cary Grant

Grade: B+

For years I’ve had friends (and one friend in particular) tell me how much I would love this movie. I had it recommended so many times that I purchased it before I’d ever seen it, something I very rarely do. (It was on sale for $5 so the investment was pretty minor.) I finally got around to watching it this afternoon and I can see why it came so highly recommended. I’ve always been a huge fan of old movies. Growing up, my dad and I would watch TCM for hours on end, with him filling in details on which actors and actresses he loved as a kid. I don’t know if it’s unusual for someone of my generation to have such an affinity for black and white movies. I certainly have plenty of friends who prefer Cary Grant to George Clooney, but I’m not sure whether that represents the majority of millennials (I’m still not sold on the name millennials, by the way). Because of my TCM-education, I fell easily into the rhythms of His Girl Friday.

His Girl Friday is a classic screwball comedy in the vein of The Philadelphia Story, Bringing Up Baby or Arsenic and Old Lace (to name a few of my other favorites). If you’re not familiar with the genre, Saturday Night Live did a great send-up of the screwball comedy (and this film in particular) on their Zooey Deschanel episode. (I like to imagine Kristen Wiig using this voice in the writer’s room until they finally agreed to write this sketch.) The Independent also wrote an article back in March explaining the origins and appeal of the screwball comedy. In order to battle strict censors who forbid sex onscreen, the screwball comedy had its central couple engage in a verbal relationship rather than a physical one. The screwball comedy was known for it’s high-speed, overlapping dialogue. Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell reached a speed of up to 240 words a minute in this film. (According to Wikipedia, 150-160 words per minute is the most comfortable range for speaking). What really sets the screwball comedy apart for me is its use of deadpan. Hardly any joke is marked as such; instead they are delivered with utter conviction. It’s pretty much the exact opposite of the self-conscious awkwardness I mentioned in my review of No Strings Attached. No matter what ridiculous thing comes out of their mouths, none of these characters reveal for even a moment they are not deadly serious.

The plot is convoluted at best, but at its heart His Girl Friday centers around ace-reporter Hildy Johnson (Rosland Russell) and her ex-husband Walter Burns (Cary Grant), an editor who will do anything for a front page scoop. Hildy is all set to quit the newspaper business and settle down with her fiancé Bruce, a milquetoast insurance salesman who wants to provide her with the home and family Walter never did. There’s also a high profile murder case, lots of corrupt politicians and a handful of goofy reporter types running around. The script is adapted from a play called The Front Page and roughly follows the same plot. The film’s big twist was turning the play’s male Hildy into a female one. It’s a smart change that gives the movie a battle-of-the-sexes angle and creates a truly fantastic female heroine. Grant is superb and his knack for playing deadpan suits him beautifully here, but Russell really steals the show, giving a tour de force verbal and physical performance.

What surprised me most is how unfeminine Hildy is allowed to be. Of course she looks fantastic in pinstripe dresses and immaculate make-up, but it’s incredible how little her gender plays a role in defining her. When she needs to talk her way into an exclusive interview, I thought for sure Hildy would flirt her way past the guard. Instead she pulls out a $20 and bribes him, just like any male reporter might do. She even chases down and tackles a fleeing eyewitness, proving that she’s pretty much an all-around badass. Since it is 1940, there’s still talk of her “woman’s touch,” and the central conflict revolves around whether or not Hildy will quit her job to set up a home. Still, there’s never any doubt that she’s good at what she does. If she ends up quitting it’s because she wants to, not because she’s being forced out. In fact, Walter spends most of the movie trying to get her to stay with the paper. It’s easy to think back on the past as a time that generally sucked for women and it’s refreshing to see the kind of female characters that actually appeared on screen in the 1940s.

The film is best when it just lets its two leads riff off each other. Grant and Russell have such a clear connection that it’s impossible not to root for them. It’s a great example of showing rather than telling. We know Walter and Hildy are meant for each because of the natural way they communicate, bouncing zingers and one-liners off each other at record speeds. While fiancée Bruce is delightfully endearing, he can barely keep up with the conversation. I feel like most modern movies would give Bruce some sort of flaw that makes it crystal-clear why he’s wrong for Hildy. Instead we get to see that although he loves her deeply, he’s just not her intellectual equal.

As with the play, I think some of the script’s darker material clashes with the overall zany-vibe it’s going for. (There’s a scene where a prostitute throws herself out of a window and nearly dies.) Overall the plot is convoluted in a way that’s tiresome rather than thrilling. But when Russell and Grant are onscreen together, it’s truly a joy to watch.

Reality factor: Other than the chemistry of its two leads, there’s little reality in this zany comedy. [1 out of 5]

Eye-candy factor: Cary Grant’s usual charm is colored with the harsh edge of a hardnosed editor. [3 out of 5]

Aww factor: This film could be defined by its anti-sentimentality. Hildy and Walter show their love by fighting rather than smooching, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 
[1 out of 5]

**Here’s a bit of trivia for you. Apparently the film has been in the public domain since 1968 due to a failure to renew the copyright registration. (The play, which was written in 1928, is under copyright until 2024.) So if you’ve been dying to make a frame-by-frame remake with your friends, go right ahead.