Part of loving cinema is wanting to share its wonder with others. That's why the communal experience of watching a movie with an audience can be so rewarding, for it makes one feel as if they're not alone in their relationship with a work of art and entertainment. Perhaps because of that, I often feel compelled to watch my most beloved movies with the most beloved people in my life, sharing with them this wonderful thing that has brought me such happiness. Not every cinematic passion is easy to share with others, obviously, and more avant-garde possibilities tend to be less well-received. The same can happen with older pictures, though I've found that there are some classics whose appeal can usually transcend whatever taste barriers there are between a casual movie-goer and the cinema of the past.
In other words, I love showing people Bringing Up Baby and watching them delight in a movie that, when times are hard, always manages to cheer me up…
Released in 1938 with little fanfare or success, this Howard Hawks' directed comedy has been the subject of much critical reappreciation over the years. From one of the examples used to justify the classification of Katharine Hepburn as box-office poison to one of the most beloved examples of screwball comedy from the 1930s, the picture's popularity has been through a meteoric rise. In some regard, the respect for Bringing Up Baby's artistry started to emerge with the advent of auteur theory and the adoration the Cahiers du Cinema crew had for Hawks. By the end of the 20th century, you could find this zany farce in many prestigious lists of the best movies ever made, including AFI top 100s and the National Film Registry's selection for preservation.
Looking at the picture's style and narrative, it's easy to see its influence on everything from What's Up Doc? to Madonna movie vehicles. Bringing Up Baby tells the unhinged love story between a stuffy archeologist played by a never funnier Cary Grant and a manic socialite who was brought to life by Katharine Hepburn in one of her more delirious star turns. What starts as an antagonistic relationship where he's a helpless victim to the woman's barrage of nonsense quickly spirals out of control once a leopard is added to the story and a precious piece of pre-historic ossicle is stolen by an enthusiastic puppy. By the third act, we find nearly every character behind bars while two large felines terrorize policemen and it's hard to remember how we got here. It's also hard to care while we laugh.
There's an ingenious quality to the way Bringing Up Baby builds an escalation of insanity whose sheer lunacy is hard to predict. It results in a movie that's always surprising its audience, pulling the carpet from under their feet in new ways every few minutes. Moreover, its pace is so unrelenting, one gets the feeling that the filmmakers are running ahead of our capacity to rationalize what's happening on-screen. It can be a frustrating experience, especially if you don't gel with the two protagonists, but part of the comedy is born out of that frustration. Bringing Up Baby is always on the hedge of utter nonsense, absolute discombobulation, messy chaos, but it manages to keep itself together until "The End" title card appears.
Just the fact the whole movie isn't in shambles by its conclusion feels like a reason to applaud. It's as if watching Hawks and company pull it off were akin to observing a trapeze artist attempt a deadly jump and surviving against all odds. For as much humor as this screwball adventure has, it's also concerned with lacing the spectator's blood with adrenaline, making the heart beat faster at the same time the belly contorts in uproarious laughter. Just thinking about Hepburn's last-minute gangster impersonation makes me chuckle as does the remembrance of Cary Grant's justifiable panic at a jungle cat running lose, of May Robson's apoplectic reactions to her niece's life choices, and Charles Ruggle's mating calls. As for "I Can't Give You Anything But Love", I'll never be able to hear the song without laughing or thinking about deadly felines.
All that being said, what makes Bringing Up Baby into such a personal favorite are the moments I've shared with others while watching it. I'm thinking of my mum, who laughed so hard at Hepburn's ridiculous antics she started to cry. My sister's merry incredulity at the paleontological finale and how we guffawed in unison. Several friend's discoveries of classic cinema through the gateway drug that is Hawks' funniest picture. I even cherish those times I've watched the movie with those who disliked it, who couldn't get past the acting styles of yore or thought Hepburn annoying. While it's wonderful to find a film nobody else as seen and loving it as an act of personal discovery, to feel the communal joy of movie-watching is part of the miracle of cinema. Bringing Up Baby is miraculous indeed.
Bringing Up Baby is available to stream on HBO Max. You can also rent the picture from Amazon, Google Play, Youtube, and others.