Born Yesterday (1950)
George Cukor has always been known as a woman's director (maybe the best), and if there is some contrary proof here, it is how boorish and pushy the men's parts of this movie are. The lead man, not William Holden (who plays second fiddle with extraordinary coolness), but Broderick Crawford, is played at the top of his voice, and it'll kill you if you grew up in a quiet house.
But of course, there is playing force against silence, and it does work even in small moments right away. And the bluster ends up being a foil for something tender and possibly tragic, a turnaround that defies the almost screwball beginning. Or so it seems as you go.
It's partly Judy Holliday's character, and performance, that keep you glued. She might seem a caricature at first, but there is a lot of subtlety to her acting--watch the hands, the eyes looking away, even her whole body, which isn't a tart looking for attention, but someone uncomfortable where she is. And the Holden character, a writer of some kind who seems to have fallen into a scoop of surprising dimensions, makes the most of the situation.
Cukor isn't only a director of women of course, he's a master at storytelling. That's what really shows here. It's fast without being dizzying. It's interesting, and human, and funny enough and rich enough to hold the line through even some rough patches. I found it all very entertaining, and if you're inclined, there's a lesson in how to be a good citizen built in. Never mind the ending, which seems to wink at the audience--as if justice is all relative, and everyone can get away with whatever they can get away with.
Of course the point isn't so deep. This is a comedy and a funny one, and a loud one. Bring cotton. And love that Judy.
George Cukor has always been known as a woman's director (maybe the best), and if there is some contrary proof here, it is how boorish and pushy the men's parts of this movie are. The lead man, not William Holden (who plays second fiddle with extraordinary coolness), but Broderick Crawford, is played at the top of his voice, and it'll kill you if you grew up in a quiet house.
But of course, there is playing force against silence, and it does work even in small moments right away. And the bluster ends up being a foil for something tender and possibly tragic, a turnaround that defies the almost screwball beginning. Or so it seems as you go.
It's partly Judy Holliday's character, and performance, that keep you glued. She might seem a caricature at first, but there is a lot of subtlety to her acting--watch the hands, the eyes looking away, even her whole body, which isn't a tart looking for attention, but someone uncomfortable where she is. And the Holden character, a writer of some kind who seems to have fallen into a scoop of surprising dimensions, makes the most of the situation.
Cukor isn't only a director of women of course, he's a master at storytelling. That's what really shows here. It's fast without being dizzying. It's interesting, and human, and funny enough and rich enough to hold the line through even some rough patches. I found it all very entertaining, and if you're inclined, there's a lesson in how to be a good citizen built in. Never mind the ending, which seems to wink at the audience--as if justice is all relative, and everyone can get away with whatever they can get away with.
Of course the point isn't so deep. This is a comedy and a funny one, and a loud one. Bring cotton. And love that Judy.