7/10
Yes, but...
9 February 2007
Warning: Spoilers
I seem to find myself coming under the "Yes, but..." camp on this one; yes, I enjoyed the film, but I didn't love it. Nor would it find a place in my personal pantheon of classics.

Part of my problem is that Walter Burns is apparently intended to be secretly attractive by dint merely of being played by Cary Grant -- at least, he never does or says anything in the course of the screenplay that would otherwise give him any appeal. Burns will lie, cheat, double-cross and murder (at least, shrug off the supposed death of an old lady without a qualm) in order not merely to get a 'story' but simply to get his own way, and by the end of the film I was hoping for nothing so much as to see him get what was coming to him; no such luck. In the original "The Front Page" (which, like this, was good but not superlative), the no-holds-barred relationship between (male) Hildy and Burns made sense in the rougher male-bonding context; seemingly, I'm the only viewer who finds it rather less credible transplanted into the context of a love affair. I can't swallow the psychology of the ending at all -- it seems to come out of nowhere, or rather, out of arbitrary movie convention.

But then, that's screwball comedy, which I suspect is the other part of my problem with the film. Screwball comedy has always struck me as the verbal equivalent of slapstick: personally, if Katherine Hepburn were to smash the dinosaur skeleton I'd just spent months reconstructing, I wouldn't find that a rationale for falling in love with her either...

It's interesting seeing this picture after seeing "The Front Page" first. Although I wouldn't have said I had any clear visual recollection of the earlier film, certain setups -- such as the press-room overlooking the courtyard -- are instantly familiar. And "His Girl Friday" very clearly shows their joint stage origins in the way that almost all the actual action takes place off-screen; characters rush in and start telling each other all about what's just happened, or start delivering exposition over the telephone, but the entire story more or less takes place on three indoor sets, and the vast majority of it in a single room.

Rosalind Russell makes a credible female news-hound (although the way that her middle-aged male counterparts treat her exactly as they treated male Hildy is a little incongruous -- 'one of the boys' or not, they don't even seem to notice she's female), and she displays an impressive range in the course of this film. The unmistakable features of Cliff Edwards can be spotted among her fellow reporters, and Helen Mack brings a darker note with her hectic portrayal of Mollie Malloy, victim of tabloid journalism. I'm not a tremendous fan of Cary Grant, and I was less impressed with him here that I have been elsewhere. The weak and corrupt elected officials, however, were beautifully judged, and Billy Gilbert shines as the emissary too stupid to be effectively bribed.

The film is a fast-talking black satire on journalism and the US justice system, and thus far it admirably succeeds. It's also trying to be a screwball romantic comedy, and this aspect I find less convincing.

My IMDb rating: seven. Worth seeing, worth recommending; not worth putting yourself to discomfort for.
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