Katharine Hepburn starring in “Box Office Poison”

1932. Making her film debut with the legendary John Barrymore in A Bill of Divorcement, Connecticut born and bred Katharine Hepburn was set on a path for screen stardom. Within a year of her auspicious Hollywood entrée, she starred in the first of her four Academy Award winning roles (Morning Glory) as well as one of the most recognized and popular films of the decade (Little Women). She was the darling of her home studio, RKO, and her continued success seemed inevitable. But unlike her contemporaries, she refused to play the Tinsel Town game. She abhorred interviews and rebuffed reporters (when asked by one newsperson if she and then husband Ludlow Ogden Smith had any children, her unorthodox reply was: “Two white and three colored”). Her disdain for makeup and wearing of pants and masculine attire was seen as too independent for public taste and she was tagged by some with the moniker “Katharine of Arrogance“. She went back to the stage on her native East coast, for the not very well received The Lake. When she returned to Hollywood, RKO cast her in Alice Adams (1935) for which she received yet another Oscar nomination, but the accolades were short lived.

In 1936, Hepburn made Sylvia Scarlett with Cary Grant and Brian Aherne, in which the non-stereotypical actress played a woman who is disguised as a young man. The RKO oddity cost Kate a big chunk of her reputation and the studio a big chunk of change (The film lost a whopping $363,000 in Depression-era dollars). Her period costume dramas of the mid-30’s, including Mary of Scotland, A Woman Rebels (both 1936) and Quality Street (1937), were flops as well, the latter two losing almost a quarter of a million dollars each at the box office. The public was staying away from Hepburn pictures in droves.


There seemed to be a ray of hope with the modest success of Stage Door (1937). The film paired the haughty Hepburn with Ginger Rogers, who, commercially, was a much more popular star and lucrative commodity for the studio. As Hepburn’s status at RKO plummeted, Rogers’ simultaneous skyrocketed. Still, the sparkling and intelligent comedy based on the Edna Ferber - George S. Kauffman hit play, didn’t hit the mark RKO execs had aimed for, bringing in only $81,000 in profits.


Desperate for a Hepburn hit and with fingers crossed, the studio cast her in a comedy, based on the humble financial success of Stage Door. Again paired with Cary Grant, who had just made a comic breakthrough of his own with The Awful Truth, the actress starred in Bringing Up Baby, the story of a man, a woman and a leopard named Baby. As inane as it sounded, that was the stuff of screwball comedies in the 1930’s. In retrospect, Bringing Up Baby is considered by some, one of the premiere classic comedies of its time (an opinion not personally shared by this blogger, but that is for another post), but in 1938 it was a box office disaster, losing $365,000, and when RKO slated Hepburn’s next film to be the standard programmer Mother Carey’s Chickens, the actress saw the writing on the wall. She bought out her contract for just over $200,000 and left the studio, with whom she had become synonymous.

Then the final blow was dealt. On May 3, 1938, a full page ad appeared in The Hollywood Reporter from the Independent Theater Owners of America lambasting studios and producers for promoting stars “whose public appeal is negligible ~ receiving tremendous salaries necessitated by contractual obligations”. Along with Garbo, Marlene Dietrich, Mae West, Kay Francis and Joan Crawford, Katharine Hepburn made this list. The statement went on to label those mentioned as “box office poison”. On that very day, RKO made the public announcement that it had parted ways with Kate Hepburn.

In the heart of the “box office poison” fiasco, two significant career factors occurred. The first film released since the Reporter ad, Holiday (1938), paired her yet again with Cary Grant. It had been made before she left RKO, on loan-out to Columbia, where Grant had seen his enormous success with Irene Dunne in The Awful Truth. Disappointment again hit home, as Holiday, although liked by critics, sank with the masses. The public was just tired of Katharine Hepburn. Then there was talk of the actress as a strong contender for the role of Scarlett O’Hara in the upcoming filmization of Margaret Mitchell’s hugely popular novel Gone With The Wind. Supposedly, Hepburn offered herself as a last minute replacement should the film’s producer, David O. Selznick, not have the part cast in time, but according to one of Selznick’s infamous memos, Kate’s box office standing and lack of sufficient sex appeal did little for the advancement of her cause. Says Selznick: “…because I think Hepburn has two strikes against her ~ first, the unquestionable and very wide-spread intense public dislike of her at the moment, and second, the fact that she is yet to demonstrate that she possesses the sex qualities which are probably the most important of all the many requisites of Scarlett….”



Heading back east, the frustrated actress spent the summer of 1938 in Connecticut with her family. Later that year, playwright Philip Barry approached Hepburn with a play he’d written with her in mind. It was called The Philadelphia Story and it was tailor-made for the cool actress. Retaining the film rights to the play (via her paramour Howard Hughes), she made a huge comeback in Hollywood in 1940 when MGM bought the rights to The Philadelphia Story (along with Miss Hepburn’s services, thank you). She remained a major star for the rest of her life, but she was never to forget her time as “box office poison” either.

Alice in Wonderland (1933): Box Office Down the Rabbit Hole

Curiouser and curiouser! ~ Alice
Long before Tim Burton and Johnny Depp filmed Alice in Wonderland in 2010, a big budget, all star version of the children's classic was produced at Paramount Studios in 1933. Based on both the Lewis Carroll tales Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (written in 1865) and Through the Looking Glass (in 1870), the 1933 version of Alice, unlike it's modern counterpart (or the 1951 animated version by Walt Disney), made this trip through the looking glass a major flop. I must agree with moviegoers from the Depression era. With all the money and big name draw that went into the film, it indeed was a big fizzle.

But it had potential. Half of the Paramount lot was cast in the film in all the supporting roles. The big problem was that they were either barely recognizable or not at all in extremely heavy make-up or costumes that completely covered both their face and body. The tedious garb was based on John Tenniel's famed illustrations for the original book, and painstaking detail was taken to create the right look for each character, but they look wooden, unnatural and toyish. Cary Grant (pictured below with his overwhelming costume), not yet the superstar he would become, played the Mock Turtle and was even required to sing! Another Paramount star, whom one would never recognize if not for his name on the credits, is Gary Cooper. As the White Knight, constantly falling off his horse, Cooper is disguised as an old man, and there is none of the virility and dash of early Cooper to be found here, which is fine, just another example of bad casting to fill the marquee with big names. Some notable performances, and ones which were examples of good casting were W.C. Fields as Humpty Dumpty, Edna May Oliver as the Red Queen and Edward Everett Horton as the Mad Hatter. Horton's version of the Hatter is particularly suited to his fussy, madcap humor and the actor actually favors his character.



Many reviews of the film call it a faithful adaption of Carroll's classic, but this blogger begs to differ. First of all, it combines elements and characters of both Wonderland and Looking Glass to form one story, sort of Alice's Odyssey to Crazy Land. Secondly, from the very beginning, the film is nothing like the story. Unlike Carroll's tale, where Alice is outside in the country with her sister, the film begins with the little girl holed up in her home on a snowy day with what appears to be her governess. She then goes "through the looking glass" BEFORE she gets to the rabbit hole, which is in a completely different story.

Then we come to Alice herself. Paramount was said to have brought Ida Lupino, then only 18 years old and a complete novice to the screen, from England to play the part, but instead, cast Charlotte Henry, an 18 year old American with only a couple of years on-screen experience, though physically, she fit the role nicely. Lupino stayed on with Paramount and became a star in the next decade with Warner Brothers. The film had been considered a vehicle for silent star Mary Pickford, and would pair her with the animation of the Walt Disney studios, but the idea didn't gel before Paramount retained the rights.



Although not a barnburner at the box office nor with critics, this version of Alice in Wonderland in still an interesting novelty, if only to see early Grant and Cooper in bizarre getups. It's also fun for Fields fans and though the backdrops are quite amateurish, there is still some inventive use of special effects for some of the fantasy scenes. Worth a look just to say you did.

Note: After nearly seventy years this version of the Wonderland tale was released on DVD in early March 2010 to coincide with the theatrical release of the new Burton/Depp film.

Suspicion (1941): Cary Grant a Killer?

Although not usually one for spoilers when discussing classic films, the topic of this post has many of the films final elements revealed as they are key to the information examined here. Be warned.

There was so much going on behind the scenes of Alfred Hitchcock's 1941 suspenser, Suspicion, it's a wonder it ever got produced. Actually, it had been floating around for years before Hitchcock finally made it at RKO studios. Based on a novel by Francis Iles called "Before the Fact", the film version starred Cary Grant and Joan Fontaine, and would be one of the first American made Hitchcock films that focused on the psychological aspects of its characters, much more so than his previous year's blockbuster, Rebecca.



At the time Suspicion was made, Alfred Hitchcock was under exclusive contract to producer David O. Selznick, the mastermind behind Gone with the Wind (1939). Together, they formed an unholy union that created Rebecca, Hitchcock's first American film, but Selznick was so unyielding to the British director on creative issues, Hitchcock was more than grateful to be loaned out to make Suspicion (Selznick was notorious for loaning out his talented contractees, making enormous profits off their services, instead of using them for his own films, except on occasion). Another of the Selznick group loaned to make Suspicion was the film's female lead, Joan Fontaine. She too, had been part of the success of Rebecca, being nominated for an Academy Award as the meek second Mrs. deWinter. Hitchcock had been keen on casting her in that role, even though publicity mad Selznick had hoped to recreate the hub bub he had enjoyed with his search for Scarlett while casting Gone with the Wind. The producer cast a wide net to entice established actresses to test for the part. In the end, Fontaine got the role and when it came time to shoot Suspicion, the shy, awkwardness she displayed in Rebecca held her in good enough stead with Hitchcock that he cast her again.

Fontaine plays Lina McLaidlaw, a reserved young Englishwoman, who comes from a well-to-do country family but is well on her way to spinsterhood, a fact brought to the forefront by none other than her parents. Also a fact noted and filed away by handsome and roguish playboy Johnny Aysgarth (Cary Grant). Johnnie knows a good thing when he sees it (a skill that doesn't always shine through with his regular trips to the racetrack). The good looking ne'er do well woos and eventually charms the awkward lass into marriage, assuming the would be heiress will eventually net a fortune. As the weeks go by, Lina begins to see Johnnie for the scheming, charmingly manipulative man he is, yet still loves him. When his old friend , the lovable but slow witted Beaky (terrifically played by Nigil Bruce) arrives, Lina's suspicions grow even stronger. Johnnie persuades the trusting Beaky to go into a real estate venture with him only to see the friendly fellow die a questionable death shortly afterward. Finally, the shrinking wife, realizes her affable husband has inquired into her life insurance policy and sees his actions from that point in a sinister light.



Studio brass at RKO, didn't think the public would accept Grant as a cold blooded killer and wanted the film's ending to reflect that assumption. According to Alfred Hitchcock, in his famous interview with Francois Truffaut, he wanted the film to end with Fontaine's character realizing that her husband was a murderer, but so in love with him that she couldn't leave him. Instead, she writes a letter to her mother exposing her husband and proclaiming her wish to die. When Grant's Johnnie brings her the "poisonous" milk, she asks him to mail the letter, drinks the milk and drifts off. The final fade out, according to the director, would show Cary, whistling a chipper tune as he slips the letter into the mailbox. The weaker conciliatory ending didn't curtail box office returns and Suspicion was a bonafide hit over the 1941 holidays.

Hitchcock's signature use of creative lighting and camera angles, along with with an atmospheric score by famed composer Franz Waxman, garnered the film a nomination at the next years Oscars. (As to the directors creative genius, he also confessed to Truffaut that a small light was actually placed in the glass of milk carried by Grant up the dark stairwell to make it luminous. He wanted it to be the complete focus of the scene). The big winner at Oscar time was actually Joan Fontaine. The young actress, unhappily married at the time to actor Brian Aherne, felt she wasn't getting the guidance she needed from the formidable director and her sense of loss both on the set and off, brought to her performance the sense of fragility and paranoia, needed to convey Lina's neurosis. It won her the Best Actress Oscar, beating out her sister Olivia DeHavilland and fueling an infamous rivalry between the siblings which was never resolved. Many thought the win was a consolation prize for not winning with her Rebecca role, but as it turned out it was the only Hitchcock directed role to ever win an Academy Award.

The Bishop's Wife (1947): Story of a Well Tailored Angel

"This is a picture calculated to make an audience leave the theatre with a good feeling. It has a warmth and charm that makes believable the fantasy and has been put together with complete understanding by all involved." That is how the entertainment trade paper Variety began its review of The Bishop's Wife in November 1947. It is an apt statement to make for what has become a perennial holiday favorite. Many films move us on a personal level but Christmas movies hit us right at the heart for whatever the reason. They elicit such good and warm memories, whether as in my case it was watching them with parents, grandparents and other loved ones as a youth or simply having them playing in the background during holiday gatherings or decorating the tree. They are like old friends and to enjoy them at Yuletide becomes a tradition of sentiment not to be underrated or scoffed at. Samuel Goldwyn's The Bishop's Wife is one such seasonal classic.

Could there be a more suave, debonair or charming angel than Cary Grant? The actor made the perfect Dudley, a heavenly messenger/guardian sent to answer a prayer for guidance given by Bishop Henry Brougham (David Niven), a clergyman torn between the financial politics of building a massively ornate and superficial cathedral and the emotional needs of his neglected wife and child (Loretta Young and Karolyn Grimes). A poignant story told with charm, humor and tons of Hollywood gloss, the film offers a cinematic respite from the commercial brouhaha presented in modern times.

However, the final product, known and loved by audiences today, was a far cry from that originally planned. Originally directed by William A. Seiter, he was replaced by Henry Koster (who eventually was nominated for an Oscar for his work on the film). Koster in turn switched the actors playing the parts of Dudley and the bishop. You see, Grant was originally set to play Bishop Brougham and Niven, the charming angel. Can you imagine? Another casting change came with the replacement of Teresa Wright, who was originally set to play the title role but at the time of Seiter's firing, Wright discovered she was pregnant and Loretta Young was cast. As the star trio settled into their respective roles, it became apparent that each was perfectly suited to his or her part.

The supporting cast appeared to be "heaven sent" as well, offering an assortment of characters from the wonderful Gladys Cooper, as the snobbish Mrs. Hamilton, a wealthy parishioner, whose money the bishop hopes to use in order to build his shiny new cathedral, to James Gleason as Sylvester, a friendly, down to earth cabbie, who admires Dudley's zest for life. There's also Elsa Lanchester, as the bishop's maid, Matilda. Her sense of flighty and giddy cannot be beat. There are also some carry overs from the previous years holiday offering, It's a Wonderful Life. Karolyn Grimes, Zuzu in the Capra classic, appears as the bishop's daughter Debby, while one of the boys Grimes meets playing in the snow is Bobby Anderson, young George Bailey in Life. Also on hand from Bedford Falls is Sara Edwards, who played Mary Bailey's mother, Mrs. Hatch, this time around playing a church organist.

The film is laced with touching sentimental vignettes, sure to set the mood for any lighting of the tree. When Grant's Dudley relates the Biblical story of David to young Debby, he ends his tale with a recitation of the 23rd Psalm to a captivated audience which includes the bishop's entire household. The Robert Mitchell Boys Choir sings O Sing to God, ushering in the Christmas spirit and raising goosebumps along the way and Cary even gets in on the musical feel good, playing a harp solo ~ what else would an angel play ~ of "Lost April", a beautiful composition by musical director Emil Newman (Grant was actually dubbed by musician Gail Laughton).

Not to be forgotten are Monty Wooley as a gruff professor who experiences the joys of the season after meeting the urbane angel, Sara Haden, as the bishop's secretary, Mildred Casaway and Gregg Toland's magnificent cinematography. Cary Grant was paid a handsome sum to play the handsome angel but for audiences of the day as well as those in the present, it was money well spent.

I'm No Angel (1933): Ain't It the Truth

"It's not the men in your life that counts, it's the life in you men" ~ Mae West

Mae West was already over 40 years old when her massive hit I'm No Angel was released in October 1933. Depression era audiences were mad about the bawdy and bodacious Mae and her innuendo, double entendre laden films of the mid 1930's. Though a late bloomer to stardom, her star shown blazingly bright in her heyday and by 1935, she was the highest paid female entertainer in the United States. Besides the obvious hilarity of her naughty one liners, part of her success comes with the supreme confidence she brings to the screen. Exaggerated in every way from her figure to her flamboyant get-ups to her voice and sauntering swagger, she took complete control of the screen and the situations which were projected on it. She was neither beautiful of face nor elegant of style, but she had full charge of her sexuality on screen, though the audience would be hard pressed to believe the handsome leading men she surrounded herself with would take her seriously as a conquest in the real world.

I'm No Angel was Mae's third film. In her first she had a shining supporting role in the George Raft flick Night After Night (1932). Her second, She Done Him Wrong (1933), was an instant smash. In it she recreated the Diamond Lil character of the Gay '90's, which had made her a hit on Broadway. She D0ne Him Wrong and I'm No Angel are closely tied. Both feature Cary Grant as Mae's leading man, the success of the two films together supposedly saved Paramount Studios from bankruptcy and the raciness of both were instrumental in the strict enforcement of Hollywood's morality production code in 1934. It is part of Hollywood lore that West claimed to have "discovered" Cary Grant, but the actor had been leading man to Marlene Dietrich in Paramount's Blonde Venus the year before either of West's films were produced. Nonetheless, Mae did request the handsome newcomer for her first two starring vehicles, which assuredly gave a boost to Grant's fledgling career, though neither film would showcase an inkling of the comic sophistication the actor would display in his later movies. He was merely West's good looking leading man and when it came down to the comedy, it was Mae all the way.

As for the story behind I'm No Angel, it's practically non-existent if not for West's presence. She is the film and that's OK. She plays Tira, an exotic dancer of sorts in a carnival sideshow, where she sings songs like "They Call Me Sister Honky Tonk", while she shimmies around a stage surrounded by leering, lascivious men. While entertaining one of these horny toads in her hotel room later that night, her slimy ex-beau breaks in on the couple and bops the would-be Romeo over the head getting both himself and Tira in a legal jam. To pay her lawyer the fees required to extricate her from the mess, Tira agrees to the dangerous stunt of putting her head in a lion's mouth as part of the carnival/circus act. The act pays off big and she and the show become a huge success taking her to the big time in New York City. While in New York, the show stopping star meets dandy-in-a-top hat, Kirk (Kent Taylor), who adorns Tira with baubles of the most expensive sort. Kirk is however engaged and when his cousin Jack (Grant) meets with the man eating female to request her emotional release of Kirk, physical fireworks explode between them.

The real fun of I'm No Angel is found in the ribald one liners thrown around like rice at a wedding by West. An avid follower of astrology, Tira goes to the side show's resident fortune teller, Rajah, for her horoscope.

Rajah: "You have a wonderful future. I see a man in your life."

Tira: "What, only one?"

While entertaining the sap in her hotel room, she inquires about his livelihood.

Tira: "What do you do for a living?"

Mr. Brown: "Oh, uh, sort of politician."

Tira: "I don't like work either."

And later he tells her, "I've been places and seen things" to which she replies "Well I've been things and seen places." The film also spawned the famous West quote "Beulah, peel me a grape" which the star, who wrote alot of her own material, used after she noticed her pet monkey, who loved grapes, would always peel them before eating them.

I'm No Angel is Mae West at her devilish best. The dialogue, the wardrobe, the attitude are Mae through and through. Made just before the Hollywoood production code hit with full force, it allowed its star to sashay around the screen as Paramount's risque queen bee and also allowed her to saunter and coo all the way to the proverbial bank.

Review: In Name Only (1939)

To commemorate the 70th anniversary of Hollywood's golden year, 1939, Turner Classic Movies is featuring films made in that illustrious year. One 1939 hit that doesn't get its due in the time capsule of film is the love triangle driven weepie, In Name Only. For sure it's a "women's picture," the kind that thrived at the box office during the 30's and 40's, but unlike many such flicks that filled the cinematic landscape with strong females like Davis, Crawford or Stanwyck, In Name Only has not only TWO strong women but also a very strong male lead. The gals are played by Carole Lombard and Kay Francis, the fellow in the middle, Cary Grant, making for a very powerful as well as photogenic trio.

The story is one that is often told. Wealthy but unhappily married Alec (Grant) meets and is attracted to intelligent widow Julie (Lombard), while his bitchy and manipulative wife Maida (Francis) makes life miserable for all involved. That's the general gist, though there are more detailed aspects that director John Cromwell uses to bump it up from a standard soaper. Julie is not only an independent widow but also mother to a precocious little girl and sister to a bitter divorcee who thinks all men are scum and ostracizes Julie when she refuses to stop seeing Alec (Ironically, later in the film when the sister has found love again herself, she is suddenly forgiving and once again loving to Julie. The need for a man to validate her happiness, or even more her general life outlook is unsettling). Maida is not simply a shrewish social climbing wife to Alec, that would make things too easy. She has the rest of the world, including Alec's well-to-do parents believing she is the ultimate perfect and loving wife, though it is made clear that she only married Alec for wealth and position and refuses to let those things go.

The star threesome make In Name Only rousing entertainment. Lombard, who had just married superstar Clark Gable before shooting the film, was at the peak of her career, making $150,000 per picture. Both she and Grant had just come off a string of hit screwball comedies, in which the public had become accustomed to see them excel. Kay Francis on the other hand was no stranger to movie histrionics, and felt right at home in the melodramatic brouhaha. She had just ended her contract with Warner Brothers studio on a very sour note and was cast in the film at the insistence of the star and her good friend Lombard. She steals the film in most of the scenes in which she participates. As stated earlier, Cary Grant stands his ground in the emotional back and forth and lends his sense of the debonair to all the heavy doings.

The movie, made at RKO studio, was originally intended as a vehicle to reunite Grant and Katherine Hepburn after their recent comedy Bringing Up Baby. But Baby bombed at the box office and Hepburn was declared "box office poison" by a poll in The Hollywood Reporter (Kay Francis was also on this list). Hence, the more popular Lombard took the role. The blond, free spirited Carole makes a striking contrast physically to the dark and impeccably groomed Kay, which only enhances the two legs they make up in the torrid triangle. All three leads are handsomely costumed and Lombard and Grant are a very becoming couple. The sheer star power and stylish production values afforded In Name Only make it a should see among fans of the golden year as well as of the golden age.

The Awful Truth: Grant, Dunne and a Dog Named Smith

"The Road to Reno is paved with suspicions" ~ Cary Grant as Jerry Warriner

I saw My Favorite Wife (1940) with Cary Grant and Irene Dunne, years before I saw The Awful Truth, the classic comedy the star duo made together three years earlier. I remember thinking, how could the 1937 movie be better than Wife. When I eventually saw The Awful Truth, I realized, as good as My Favorite Wife was, the stars' original venture was that much better. The witty sophistication that sparkles throughout the film never lets up, but moves seamlessly from scene to scene, gag to gag and isn't afraid to let its guard down on occasion to let slapstick make a cameo appearance.

Cary Grant and Irene Dunne are an ideal screwball team (this blogger prefers Grant's pairing with Miss Dunne to similar screen outings with Katherine Hepburn any day). Grant, at his most dapper, is in top form in The Awful Truth. It was one of the first films he made as an independent, non-studio bound actor and along with Topper (1937) and Bringing Up Baby (1938), pushed him to super stardom. In retrospect, Dunne is an actress who has been underrated and underappreciated by many and completely forgotten by even more. She is an absolute comic treasure in The Awful Truth, her facial expressions and timing are perfection. She had just finished her first big comedy Theodora Goes Wild the previous year and like Grant, was hitting her stride with this film.

The film begins with Jerry Warriner (Grant) at a New York City spa getting a tan underneath a sun lamp (for those of a certain youthful age, these were the precursors to tanning beds) as evidence to his wife, Lucy (Dunne), of his recent solo trip to Florida, which he never actually made. He arrives at his swank abode just minutes before Lucy appears, still dressed in her shimmering evening gown from the night before, accompanied by her handsome and debonair singing teacher (Alexander D'arcy). The situation is wrought with innuendo and doubt, on both sides as Lucy reads the stamp on one of the oranges Jerry brought her back from his Florida "trip" that reads ~ ORANGE GROWERS ASSOCIATION, CALIFORNIA. Words are exchanged and they decide to divorce, though the shenanigans each gets involved with to thwart the others potential post marital plans, proves their love for one another is as strong as ever.

Ralph Bellamy plays the rich rube from Oklahoma with whom Lucy gets involved, only to make Jerry jealous. The nightclub scene where the three of them accidentally meet up is a hoot, with a special nod going to Grant's date, Dixie Belle Lee (Joyce Compton), who performs a tacky and risque singing number at the club with hilarious reactions from Grant, Dunne and Bellamy. Joyce Compton, with her scatter brained persona and sweet-as-sugah-southun accent, is always a delight to watch. Molly Lamont plays Jerry's rebound main squeeze, a madcap heiress (didn't every 30's screwball comedy have to have one?) who's not only not madcap, she hardly ever smiles!

The couple's beloved dog, Mr. Smith (aka Asta of the Thin Man series fame) shares some of the films key comedic moments. The custody of Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith's piano duet with Jerry and Mr. Smith plays hide and seek with a hat are absolute classic bits of classic comedy. One of the funniest laugh out loud scenes involves Jerry bursting into Lucy's singing recital, expecting her to be in a clinch with her music teacher. Instead he's greeted with the stares of a room full of attendees and he begins wreaking havoc with a chair and side table while his wife not only holds her composure to finish her song but gets a little laugh at his antics while still on key.

The film's director, Leo McCarey, who produced My Favorite Wife, won an Academy Award and six other nominations were garnered including Best Picture, Best Actress for Dunne and Best Supporting Actor for Bellamy. Fun from beginning to end.

Cary Grant: Master of His Own Destiny

The studio system of signing stars to exclusive contracts and grooming them to fit the mold it had created for them was at its most powerful in the mid to late Thirties. And what star in their right mind wouldn't want the protection, money and promotion these entities had to offer? Cary Grant, that's who.

By the mid 1930's Grant had been under contract to Paramount Pictures for half the decade and by 1935 they were casting him in one mediocre film after another. That same year, when his contract with Paramount expired, he made the unheard of at the time decision to become a freelance actor and be paid on a per film basis, allowing him to control his own career and script choice. It was a gamble that paid off big time.

By 1937 he had found his niche in the sophisticated screwball comedies Topper and The Awful Truth (the latter with the wonderful Irene Dunne) and from there the hits just continued to roll for Grant. He became and remained one of Hollywood's top box office draws for the next 25 years.