CARY'S GIRL FRIDAY

If you've watched I Love Lucy reruns, you know Cary Grant was more than just another fifties heartthrob. He was practically the face of the black-and-white era, up there competing with a blond bombshell named Marilyn, a scandalously dancing sideburn of a boy, and,well, Clark Gable. Chances are, though, you've never seen him in your TV, or if you have, you've glued your thumb to the remote again and sailed on by to Project Runway or yet another Lifetime channel marathon. But if you decided to drag your sorry carcass out of bed before noon last Sunday and get down to the Plaza for the Plaza Film Festival, you had a chance to see him starring in His Girl Friday on the big screen, and I do mean BIG. The screen inside Kendle Kidd hall makes Tinseltown look like your friend's iPod screen. and if you "couldn't make it" (translation: were too effing lazy), you have nothing to worry about, because I was totally that annoying person taking friggin notes at the movie. (Not really, I wasn't taking notes...only in my head.) Here's how it went down.
Cary Grant plays Walter Burns, the big, strong, sexy, slightly-gangsta husband (or in this case, ex-husband) who instantly makes you feel safe when he comes on the screen. And if you're wondering how a guy in a black-and-white movie can be sexy, hello, Elvis? anyway, he's the editor of the New York Post and one of the most powerful men in NYC, if not the country. His ex-wife is Hildy Johnson (played to a T by Rosalind Russell), a cutthroat reporter who literally tackles a man for information. Seriously, this chick could be in the NFL. I mean, really. She serves up disses on a powder-puffed platter and burns her ex to the ground, all the while wearing pinstripes and fabulous hats. He is so not over her. In the first scene where we see them together, Walter offers his knee as a place to sit: "There's been a lamp burning in the window for you , honey...Here." He is instantly rejected: "Oh, I jumped out that window a long time ago." Hildy opts for a table instead.
At the beginning of the movie, you think you have this one-dimensional plot in the palm of your hand: Boy meets girl. Boy marries girl; girl divorces boy...OK, maybe not so one-dimensional after all, but still. You're going, Yeah, it's a romantic comedy; they talk really fast, cute couple, whatever. Uh, no. Suddenly there's a murderer! And a hanging! And a jailbreak! And before you know it, they're talking faster than ever, and you're thinking the guy who invented subtitles should be knighted by Obama. Well, he totally should, but for now, this sad, mustached little murderer is hanging out in a desk (yes, in a desk; not on it or under it but in it), and here come the police, and Walter takes them to school, and Hildy's future mother-in-law is dead, except she's really not, and this poor guy Bruce, who Hildy's engaged to, gets arrested no less than four times. Yes, four. God, they talk fast. Do you see now, are you starting to understand, why you really should have gone to see this movie? It's freakin amazing!
And just as a crude sidenote, do you realize that by now, in our world, people would've been sleeping with each other left and right? And we would've had to witness every last night (or, you know, day), complete with Oh-God-I-
Wish-I'd-Never-Seen-That detail. Hildy herself would've slept with Bruce and Walter and probably a couple sources, and maybe even the murderer. Not here, son. And can I just say, it's more than a little refreshing to see adults actually interACTING without interCOURSE. Haha. Sorry. Had to. Plus, you guys, when Hildy isn't around stomping on egos and Walter is busy elsewhere giving away counterfeit money, there's a gaggle of old reporters forever ending twenty-second calls with "Call you back." They come up with "embellished" stories as the real, more mundane event unfolds in the newsroom.
But seriously, it's more than an actual clean-and-still-fun romcom, it's a mile-a-minute stick of dynamite, it's a hilariously awkward lunch date for Hildy and Bruce with a completely under-control third wheel named Walter, it's a corrupt mayor getting caught, a $5,000 a year salary, running in heels, the ever-present stupid sheriff, old-school class combined with old Hollywood glamour, umbrellas and rubbers and coat-and-hat ensembles, back-and-forth-until-your-eyes-fall-out banter, it's the perfect ending, one kiss, and a very thick suit. and from the first scene, you never doubt for a second that Hildy will always be his girl...Friday. Or Saturday. Or even...Monday.
In 1940, every girl was Cary's girl, any day of the week. So give black-and-white a chance and see him in his heyday.
To conclude, my lovelies: Watch the movie, skip the Discovery Channel, and buy a hat.
I'll be here all week!
Try the veal.