It's as if someone at Warners had discovered a script for a B murder mystery in the rear of some almost forgotten file cabinet and decided it would be clever to impose the elements of one of the fashionable screwball comedies on it. The result is a B murder mystery with some screwball elements lathered over it.
It's not a failure. The pace is so fast, the abrupt conversational exchanges are flung back and forth with such speed, that some people might classify it as "frenzied." But "Bringing Up Baby" it is not.
I doubt very much that anyone will care about who gets murdered and who the murderer is. And the romance between a handsome young Henry Fonda, as a newspaper editor, and Barbara Stanwyck as a flighty socialite, evolves out of nothing much.
But those are the kinds of slapdash properties that you expect to find in a B feature. And this one must have had a substantial budget. The writing may not be nearly as outrageous as it thinks it is, but there are some good lines.
"I don't know which is more pernicious -- you or anemia."
Half a dozen young women are held at gunpoint. "If you kill one of us you'll have to kill all of us," and another girl exclaims, "Quit that communist stuff!"
There are one or two successful sight gags too, one involving Fonda and Hattie McDaniel, that will bring a smile if not a full-blown laugh.
Stanwyck is okay. Those used to seeing her in later roles, when her features had hardened, may not realize how attractive and vulnerable she seemed in the 1930s. Fonda can handle his comic role but the script presents him with problems that no human being could conquer. I can't avoid mentioning Olin Howland in a small role who was later to give the greatest performance ever committed to celluloid in "Them!" ("Make me a sergeant in charge of the booze!")
Best of all is Sam Levene in the James Gleason role of the tough, cynical, Brooklynite police lieutenant. Gleason was convincing enough when he snarled, but his snarl was believable. It lacked any dimension other than anger. Levene is better at the role. He snarls at everyone too, but with a quality that is both resigned and humane. Underneath that rebarbative demeanor, you sense that Levene has a heart.
It's not a failure. The pace is so fast, the abrupt conversational exchanges are flung back and forth with such speed, that some people might classify it as "frenzied." But "Bringing Up Baby" it is not.
I doubt very much that anyone will care about who gets murdered and who the murderer is. And the romance between a handsome young Henry Fonda, as a newspaper editor, and Barbara Stanwyck as a flighty socialite, evolves out of nothing much.
But those are the kinds of slapdash properties that you expect to find in a B feature. And this one must have had a substantial budget. The writing may not be nearly as outrageous as it thinks it is, but there are some good lines.
"I don't know which is more pernicious -- you or anemia."
Half a dozen young women are held at gunpoint. "If you kill one of us you'll have to kill all of us," and another girl exclaims, "Quit that communist stuff!"
There are one or two successful sight gags too, one involving Fonda and Hattie McDaniel, that will bring a smile if not a full-blown laugh.
Stanwyck is okay. Those used to seeing her in later roles, when her features had hardened, may not realize how attractive and vulnerable she seemed in the 1930s. Fonda can handle his comic role but the script presents him with problems that no human being could conquer. I can't avoid mentioning Olin Howland in a small role who was later to give the greatest performance ever committed to celluloid in "Them!" ("Make me a sergeant in charge of the booze!")
Best of all is Sam Levene in the James Gleason role of the tough, cynical, Brooklynite police lieutenant. Gleason was convincing enough when he snarled, but his snarl was believable. It lacked any dimension other than anger. Levene is better at the role. He snarls at everyone too, but with a quality that is both resigned and humane. Underneath that rebarbative demeanor, you sense that Levene has a heart.