Director: Howard Hawks
Writers: Charles Lederer, Ben Hecht, Charles MacArthur, Morrie Ryskind
Photography: Joseph Walker
Music: Sidney Cutner, Felix Mills
Editor: Gene Havlick
Cast: Rosalind Russell, Cary Grant, Ralph Bellamy, Gene Lockhart, John Qualen, Helen Mack, Alma Kruger, Billy Gilbert, Abner Biberman
His Girl Friday is an older picture, like Casablanca or The Wizard of Oz, that remains worth seeing for everyone at least once. It pulls off a killer stunt in the impossible pace alone, and you also can't miss director Howard Hawks's evident ability to translate a party atmosphere on his shooting sets into his movies. Everyone appears to be having a ball. Hawks's version of the stage play The Front Page (which has been made into movies three or four times) is still unique as it sprints on a tempo that defies all speed limits, along with some interesting and innovative technique like overlapping dialogue. Admittedly His Girl Friday may look primitive to a lot of contemporary viewers, but it's still impressive and likely to surprise. Not even Billy Wilder could come close when he took it on in a 1974 version with Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon.
The play's original story and dialogue carry it some way, doubtless the reason it has been made into a movie so many times. Cary Grant by himself puts on a clinic in screwball timing and fast talking and Rosalind Russell keeps up admirably. Grant is Walter Burns, a newspaper editor and political kingmaker in the cynical mode of the time (slower and possibly more corrupt versions would appear in Citizen Kane and Meet John Doe). Russell is Hildy Johnson, Burns's best reporter and ex-wife. Now she is about to remarry and move to Albany but Burns has one more last-minute assignment for her, which she can't resist. The blood of a newspaperman plainly courses her veins.
His Girl Friday is an older picture, like Casablanca or The Wizard of Oz, that remains worth seeing for everyone at least once. It pulls off a killer stunt in the impossible pace alone, and you also can't miss director Howard Hawks's evident ability to translate a party atmosphere on his shooting sets into his movies. Everyone appears to be having a ball. Hawks's version of the stage play The Front Page (which has been made into movies three or four times) is still unique as it sprints on a tempo that defies all speed limits, along with some interesting and innovative technique like overlapping dialogue. Admittedly His Girl Friday may look primitive to a lot of contemporary viewers, but it's still impressive and likely to surprise. Not even Billy Wilder could come close when he took it on in a 1974 version with Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon.
The play's original story and dialogue carry it some way, doubtless the reason it has been made into a movie so many times. Cary Grant by himself puts on a clinic in screwball timing and fast talking and Rosalind Russell keeps up admirably. Grant is Walter Burns, a newspaper editor and political kingmaker in the cynical mode of the time (slower and possibly more corrupt versions would appear in Citizen Kane and Meet John Doe). Russell is Hildy Johnson, Burns's best reporter and ex-wife. Now she is about to remarry and move to Albany but Burns has one more last-minute assignment for her, which she can't resist. The blood of a newspaperman plainly courses her veins.
That reminds me—maybe the greatest inspiration Hawks had in his version was to make Hildy a woman. As Burns's ex-wife on top of that it instantly creates a good deal more tension between them, and it doesn't hurt that Grant and Russell have so much chemistry. Grant the consummate pro seemed to have chemistry with most of his costars—managed it one way or another. Grant and Russell are definitely among the strong points of His Girl Friday.
But it also reminds me that some content warnings are in order here. I don't necessarily want to police this stuff rigorously, but when they make me wince and it happens more than once I feel like I should mention them. There's a story someone tells here about a "pickaninny." Then Burns has an informal partner, Louie (Abner Biberman), who commits low-level crimes for him, mostly frame-up jobs but with skills like pickpocketing and counterfeiting, not to mention the rough stuff when it's called for. Burns is worried about Louie at one point and says, "That dumb immigrant will flop on me as sure as you're born." It's not the language so much as the attitude that Louie is so disposable that seems jarring now.
The worst is the general treatment of women, most notably Mollie Malone (Helen Mack), a friend of Earl Williams (John Qualen), the man who has been convicted of murder and is to be executed in this generally absurd and theatrical story. The gaggle of reporters in the press room openly treat her with taunting disdain, which they hold back or are more restrained about with men they don't respect. The piling on of character actors in that gaggle is another thing that does not wear well for me with this movie. They are consummate, pungent character actors, all of them. But there are too many. They keep stepping on each other's lines and canceling each other out.
Hildy is often taken as a kind of feminist figure and that's valid enough on an obvious level. But the whole idea that she would even entertain giving up reporting to become a housewife for an insurance man in Albany is itself rife with unpleasant old-school notions. At least people in the movie seem to be aware of how ridiculous they are in Hildy's case, but she is more of a specific exception to a rule. It's clear we would draw the line in a different place from many of these characters in terms of what is appropriate for a woman to be doing and not doing. Mollie's pity for a convicted murderer sentenced to death, for example, was apparently enough to make it OK to revile her openly.
A word about Hildy's fiancé, Bruce Baldwin (Ralph Bellamy), and his mother (Alma Kruger). They are just splendid as written, the funniest part of His Girl Friday, which is often funny. Bellamy carries off his piece as well as anyone here, always studiously two and a half steps behind Burns and bumbling to help. These dignified Baldwins of Albany are outrageously abused and late in the movie Mother has the scrapes and bruises to show for it. She's also in jail. Bellamy's own shambling facelessness is highlighted when Burns asks a woman to frame him up for mashing and she asks what he looks like. "He looks like that fellow in the movies," Burns says, "you know, Ralph Bellamy."
I've seen this movie a few times and my experience is that it has never been as amazing again as the first time. That's certainly a recommendation if you haven't seen it, but for the rest of us it's worth considering return trips. Cary Grant in one of his best performances is a strong point. The story is painfully slight and muddled (that's more the play). The experiments with overlapping dialogue are fun, but they are also crude and stagy compared to later developments in the technique. You almost have to see Gosford Park and others a few times to get all the clues embedded in the cross-dialogue to reassemble the plot. I'm not saying that's a good thing but I'm not saying it's a bad thing either. What bothers me most about His Girl Friday on a personal level is the ending. I think Hildy makes the wrong decision going back with Walter, who is a rat. I think she should have stuck with Bruce, on her own terms, settled down in Albany, and written novels—I see her taking the Shirley Jackson route. At any rate, His Girl Friday is a must for everybody's bucket list in the US at least.
But it also reminds me that some content warnings are in order here. I don't necessarily want to police this stuff rigorously, but when they make me wince and it happens more than once I feel like I should mention them. There's a story someone tells here about a "pickaninny." Then Burns has an informal partner, Louie (Abner Biberman), who commits low-level crimes for him, mostly frame-up jobs but with skills like pickpocketing and counterfeiting, not to mention the rough stuff when it's called for. Burns is worried about Louie at one point and says, "That dumb immigrant will flop on me as sure as you're born." It's not the language so much as the attitude that Louie is so disposable that seems jarring now.
The worst is the general treatment of women, most notably Mollie Malone (Helen Mack), a friend of Earl Williams (John Qualen), the man who has been convicted of murder and is to be executed in this generally absurd and theatrical story. The gaggle of reporters in the press room openly treat her with taunting disdain, which they hold back or are more restrained about with men they don't respect. The piling on of character actors in that gaggle is another thing that does not wear well for me with this movie. They are consummate, pungent character actors, all of them. But there are too many. They keep stepping on each other's lines and canceling each other out.
Hildy is often taken as a kind of feminist figure and that's valid enough on an obvious level. But the whole idea that she would even entertain giving up reporting to become a housewife for an insurance man in Albany is itself rife with unpleasant old-school notions. At least people in the movie seem to be aware of how ridiculous they are in Hildy's case, but she is more of a specific exception to a rule. It's clear we would draw the line in a different place from many of these characters in terms of what is appropriate for a woman to be doing and not doing. Mollie's pity for a convicted murderer sentenced to death, for example, was apparently enough to make it OK to revile her openly.
A word about Hildy's fiancé, Bruce Baldwin (Ralph Bellamy), and his mother (Alma Kruger). They are just splendid as written, the funniest part of His Girl Friday, which is often funny. Bellamy carries off his piece as well as anyone here, always studiously two and a half steps behind Burns and bumbling to help. These dignified Baldwins of Albany are outrageously abused and late in the movie Mother has the scrapes and bruises to show for it. She's also in jail. Bellamy's own shambling facelessness is highlighted when Burns asks a woman to frame him up for mashing and she asks what he looks like. "He looks like that fellow in the movies," Burns says, "you know, Ralph Bellamy."
I've seen this movie a few times and my experience is that it has never been as amazing again as the first time. That's certainly a recommendation if you haven't seen it, but for the rest of us it's worth considering return trips. Cary Grant in one of his best performances is a strong point. The story is painfully slight and muddled (that's more the play). The experiments with overlapping dialogue are fun, but they are also crude and stagy compared to later developments in the technique. You almost have to see Gosford Park and others a few times to get all the clues embedded in the cross-dialogue to reassemble the plot. I'm not saying that's a good thing but I'm not saying it's a bad thing either. What bothers me most about His Girl Friday on a personal level is the ending. I think Hildy makes the wrong decision going back with Walter, who is a rat. I think she should have stuck with Bruce, on her own terms, settled down in Albany, and written novels—I see her taking the Shirley Jackson route. At any rate, His Girl Friday is a must for everybody's bucket list in the US at least.
Grant the fast-talking newspaper power broker in a double-breasted suit at his absolute hammiest best. When Grant and Russell are together it's like a non-stop rom-com Abbott & Costello stand-up. But, yeah, the politics, hopefully being satirized, were petty and patronizing.
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