Ball of Fire | Cary Grant Won't Eat You

Silly Feel-Good Classic Films

05/19/2020 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 16 Comments

As the pandemic length has grown and your patience has seeped away, what spells a “comfort” movie to you may have changed. If you’re single and alone, the rom-com, usually a fallback, may make you cringe about the horror of dating dangers post-opening (as if dating usually weren’t bad enough!) If you’re huddled inside with TOO MANY PEOPLE, you may find yourself enjoying dull footage of peaceful lakes.

But for all of us in times of stress, the truly, deeply silly movie remains a staple, and so in the long-delayed follow-up to my earlier post, “Classic Feel-Good Movies for Shut-Ins,” I’m going full-on silly with my next set of suggestions. I’m joining my peers at the Classic Movie Blog Association, who are sponsoring a great blogathon event on comfy favorites. So here are five comfy classic films, chosen for silliness and enjoyment–and listed in no particular order. (You will note that I’ve rated the silliness level, so not all here are full madcap in style. BUT I’m thinking that a list of films with silliness at level eleven, and eleven only, may be my next project.)

5. The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek (1943/4). Silliness Quotient–11 out of 10.

I could have easily chosen ANY Preston Sturges flick obviously, but I recently discovered this on my library’s Kanopy streaming service, and just seeing the listing made me grin. For those of you who DON’T know writer/director Sturges, he was a big Coen brothers influence, thus the name of their film, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, a reference to Sturges’ classic, Sullivan’s Travels. (In fact, the Coens’ film title ONLY makes sense if you have see the Sturges flick.) This early writer/director’s delirious combination of madcap physical comedy, witty banter, and sheer improbability in his plotting make Sturges a favorite of any Coen brothers’ diehards (which I definitely am).

The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek actually thrives on denying information to its audience, who know that a scandal/miracle is about to erupt in Morgan’s Creek, and many stratagems are in play to contain it. Betty Hutton is adorable as the center of the scandal, and Eddie Bracken plays her lovesick friend/maybe-more (think Ducky in Pretty in Pink). Basically, it all begins when Hutton has too good of a night with liquor and a bunch of soldiers and sleeps with one of them. The thing is, she can’t remember his name. Yes, you read that right. It gets much more complicated as it goes. Bracken has the silliest role, and he captures his character’s constant befuddlement to the hilt—and just escapes going too far. Since the writing is in Sturges’ hands, it’s brilliant, of course (I have a set of his scripts on my bookshelf, trying to see how he does it).

4. Auntie Mame (1958). Silliness Quotient–7 /10.

I haven’t yet done a full post on Auntie Mame, but that’s because I love it too much, not too little. An unconventional, fun-loving aunt in the city (Rosalind Russell) takes in her dead brother’s prim child, and many hilarious scenes ensue. If you don’t end the film wishing Auntie Mame were your aunt, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Rosalind Russell’s acerbic edge keeps the film from ever treading into maudlin territory, and she so fully embodies Mame’s significant lust for life that it’s very confusing to find Russell cowed and sad in other films (Picnic, for example).

A favorite scene in the film is when Mame takes a sales job after the market crash. She only knows how to do COD (cash on delivery), and therefore is urging everyone to pay that way. Her dismay when they don’t is ALL OF US in every job when we’re out of our depth. COD isn’t really a thing you hear much anymore, but any time I do hear it, I think, “Oh, Mame.”

3. The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942). Silliness Quotient–7/10.

“Guests, like fish,” penned Ben Franklin, “begin to smell after three days.” No movie has ever captured that sentiment better than The Man Who Came to Dinner, and no actor has ever improved on Monty Woolley’s commanding performance of entitlement personified. He’s playing radio star/personality Sheridan Whiteside on a lecture tour, and the unlucky family once so proud of his appearance at their dinner table learns to rue the day they agreed to it. A little accident on their stoop, and they’re stuck waiting hand and foot on Whiteside’s prodigious ego.

George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart created the witty script, and Billie Burke plays the unwilling hostess to Whiteside. (Bette Davis may have helped the film get made, but her role here is one of her most flavorless. You know it’s not a Davis vehicle when Ann Sheridan outshines her.) Watch the film for the script and for brilliant Woolley, who must have been something to see on the stage (where he originated the role). Unfortunately, I have delayed writing about this film because it seems to be always unavailable for streaming on Amazon, but the DVD is available. If you know a good source for streaming it, please mention that in the comments!

2. Ball of Fire (1941). Silliness Quotient–7/10.

Barbara Stanwyck and Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire

No list of silly movies would be complete without my favorite classic comedy, with Barbara Stanywck as the moll and Gary Cooper as the hapless encyclopedia writer who falls for her. And then there are the “dwarves”–the older encyclopedia writers who ALSO fall for her. I see that the film’s available on the Criterion Channel, which I’m shocked I don’t belong to yet. (No worries for me–I own two DVDs of this movie–the 2nd for when mine inevitably breaks from overviewing.)

With the dizzyingly talented combination of Howard Hawks as director and Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder as writers, this film’s dialogue can be almost as breathtaking as His Girl Friday‘s (also Hawks), but the writing/directing team leaves room for endearingly slow sequences as well. You actually watch Cooper’s character studying how to box in a book before his big fight scene, showing how goofy this story is. And for extra fun, you get favorites Dana Andrews, Dan Duryea, and S.Z. Sakall simultaneously embracing and mocking their typical roles.

1. A Night at the Opera (1935). Silliness Quotient–11/10.

A Night at the Opera-Otis (Groucho) is introduced.

Did you honestly think you’d get through this list without a Marx brothers appearance? I didn’t think so. (As with The Man Who Came to Dinner, the screenplay is co-written by Pulitzer-Prize-winning Kaufman.)

Here are just a few quick early bites: We get Otis B. Driftwood (Groucho) yelling at his driver for not traveling slowly enough to miss the whole opera they’ve driven to see. We have Fiorello (Chico) and Otis tearing apart the bits of a contract they don’t understand (i.e., all of it). We have Tomasso (Harpo) interrupting a typical movie romance trope (one lover onshore, the other on the ship, crooning about her love) by attack-kissing strangers for no reason. That’s just a small sampling of the joys you get before the glorious comedy of the ocean voyage, which includes such a monstrously over-the-top buffet that I wondered just how old the joke about gaining weight on cruises was….

During a strange but enchanting musical sequence starring Chico and Harpo, the two entertain a crowd of children with a deft combo of lunacy and calm, making me think, “Doesn’t every parent stuck at home with children for weeks want these two as babysitters right now?”

So there you have it–five wonderful, comforting films to get you through this trying time. NOTE: You may notice that neither Mae West nor Cary Grant has appeared on this list. That’s because 1. I already discussed Mae in my previous comfort list, and 2. I figured you’d already thought of Cary–and if you haven’t, why not?

Bonus: Kedi (2016).

I know–it’s not a classic film. It’s a recent documentary about the cats of Istanbul. But I have literally recommended it to every cat lover I know, and when I found it streaming on my library’s Kanopy service, played it on repeat for a day. The film focuses on several stray cats, telling their stories (the hunter, the crazy one, the player, etc.). The cats are certainly endearing, but surprisingly, the shopkeepers, artists, and others who love and care for them are just as likeable. And the cinematography of Istanbul is often gasp worthy, especially when you see those cats on some tall balconies and rooftops! My friend described the film as human catnip. How right she is. Next time you experience one of those anger/grief/anxiety spirals that all of us are prone to during this pandemic, play Kedi. Trust me. It’s healing.

This post is part of the Classic Movie Blog Association’s Classics for Comfort blogathon, so you can find many more suggestions on feel-good films there if mine don’t meet your needs—or, which is even more likely, you need more. Enjoy!

The Nerdiest Scene Ever: Encyclopedia Writers Trumping Gangsters in Ball of Fire

05/16/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 28 Comments

This post is part of the My Favorite Classic Movie Blogathon in celebration of National Classic Movie Day (May 16th). Click here to view the schedule listing all the great posts.

Nerd alert: I used to sit in the basement, reading my parents’ World Books for fun. I think it started with A Tale of Two Cities. A few hours into the encyclopedia set’s entries on The French Revolution, and Sydney Carton was forgotten.

Now, of course, my addiction is Wikipedia, despite my warning students away from it with Colbert. The other day I attended a Renaissance Faire featuring a pirate show (yes, I know how ridiculous that is), just after reading about Blackbeard in The Smithsonian. The combination led me on a Wikipedia binge on female pirates.

Thus it should be no surprise that a film about professors writing an encyclopedia (and their unexpected romantic interlude with a gangster’s moll) would thrill me. I’ve already explained why Ball of Fire should be viewed by all English majors. Today I’m advocating it for history buffs as well, particularly due to one scene starring the professors, two gangsters, The Sword of Damocles, and the mirrors of Archimedes.

**Spoiler alert.**

For those who’ve never seen the film, here’s the basic plot: Sugarpuss (Barbara Stanwyck), girlfriend to gangster Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews), hides out from the D.A. in the home of the encyclopedia writers, pretending she’s there to help with Professor Potts’s (Gary Cooper’s) entry on slang. Potts falls for and proposes to her, and she (to her great shock) falls for him too. But when her scheming is exposed, Potts lets her leave with Lilac, who needs her “I do” to prevent her from testifying about his crimes.

Sugarpuss knows she’s earned Potts’s disgust, but refuses to marry Lilac, instead explaining her love for the professor. She describes his poor kissing technique, his “giraffe” fashion, and other traits that have somehow inspired her love for him.

“I’ll never see him again,” she tells Lilac, “but I’m not gonna marry you, not if you tie a ton of cement around my neck and throw me into the East River, like you did all the others.”

To force her, Lilac sends two of his henchmen, Pastrami (Dan Duryea) and Anderson (Ralph Peters), to take the professors hostage.

When Potts discovers how much Sugarpuss loves him, he wants to yodel he’s so happy. His fellow professors share in this enthusiasm, even holding down Pastrami’s gun. The gangster retorts,”Better look out, it’s gonna spit.”

At this exciting juncture, their garbage man arrives with questions on a quiz, including one about the Sword of Damocles. Professor Jerome (Henry Travers–a.k.a., Clarence of It’s a Wonderful Life) explains the legend, realizing its pertinence to their situation: A sword is suspended above the head of Damocles by just a hair, just like the portrait above Pastrami.

Jerome’s quick-witted colleagues soon catch the reason for his storytelling. Suddenly, they have a strategy–and perhaps as importantly, hope.

After Potts shares another story–Archimedes burning the Roman fleet with well-aimed mirrors–Professor Gurkakoff (Oscar Homolka) moves his microscope so that it’s catching the sunlight, and directs it at the rope above the portrait.

Potts then notices that Anderson is pitched precariously on a high chair.

He therefore refers one of his colleagues to a passage that gives him a mission once Pastrami is handled.

The approach is working. Two of the professors have spotted a carpet they’re ready to pull to topple Anderson, and the fire is burning through the rope above the picture.

Now all the professors need to do is distract the criminals’ attention from the fire. Potts insults the gangsters in a pseudo-intellectual style, beginning a nonsensical speech with “Your inferiority is a question of the bony structure of your skulls.”

Anderson is unaware how truthfully he speaks when he complains, “This mixed-up talk is giving me a headache.” Pastrami argues that guns, not smarts, make the world go round, and proves it by shooting their globe.

While this gun play has the whole room worried, it’s Pastrami’s decision to leave his chair that leads to panic. Professor Oddly proposes that Pastrami shoot a dime out of his hand, but only if he returns to his seat. Realizing the risk he’s taking, poor Oddly switches to a quarter, then a 50-cent piece. The tension in the room has obviously reached quite a pitch.

Oddly’s expression as he waits to lose his hand is priceless:

Of course, Pastrami is knocked over first.

And Anderson falls via the carpet move. Oddly faints–quite theatrically. And the professors rush off in a garbage truck to save Sugarpuss, with Potts studying boxing strategies to use against Lilac en route. With scenes as delightfully geeky and ridiculous as this one, it any wonder that this classic film remains my favorite?

5 Reasons Why English Majors Will Love Ball of Fire

05/01/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 27 Comments

This entry is part of the Romantic Comedy blogathon cohosted by Backlots and Carole and Co.

In trying to get friends to give old movies a chance, I often start with Ball of Fire, mainly because I know many English majors/graduate students, few of whom predict what delights are waiting for them in this 1941 classic. Here are just five of the reasons why everyone who waxes poetic about Shakespeare or Austen needs to spend a little time with Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck:

1. The Plot: A Mobster/Moll Romantic Comedy about Language

Professor Bertram Potts (Cooper), on the hunt for colorful subjects to aid him with his encyclopedia entry on slang, enlists a sexy torch singer, Sugarpuss O’Shea (Stanwyck).

O'Shea (Stanwyck) flirting with the professors

O’Shea (Stanwyck) flirting with Potts

Sound ridiculous? It is, wonderfully so.

In the “meet cute” moment, O’Shea has just learned that her mobster boyfriend (Dana Andrews) is in trouble with the law. Fearing the knock on her dressing room door is the DA with a subpoena, she’s hostile to Potts, and when she discovers his mission to study her, dismisses him:

O’Shea: “Shove in your clutch.”

Potts: “Exactly the kind of thing I want”….

O’Shea: “OK, scrow, scram, scraw.”

Potts: “A complete conjugation!”

The opening sequence of Potts’ investigation, in which we learn the sources of such terms as “slap happy” and discover just how old the term “jerk” must be, is equally amusing to those of us who delight in wordplay, as is the nerdy professor’s ignorance of such words as “boogie.”

And that’s just the first half hour.

2. A Clever Take on Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

Fables, folk tales, fairy tales. We English majors love to read them, interpret them, reinvent them. (Angela Carter’s dark The Bloody Chamber traumatized me in an introductory lit course.) Famed writing team Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder turn the tale on its head, making Snow White a seductress and the dwarves a team of innocent professors (six bachelors and a widower) who are writing an encyclopedia together, with Prince Potts acting as the eighth member.

O’Shea seeks shelter from the police at their house, claiming she needs to stay to help with Potts’ research. The proper Potts doesn’t understand why she needs a sleepover, but his elderly companions, used to only the “singularly uninspiring underpinnings” of their housekeeper, outweigh his objections. They have fallen for O’Shea, and their charming antics to gain her attention—wearing new outfits, making sure their pants get ironed, having her teach them the conga—make you wonder just how unfair it is that the prince is the one who wins Snow White’s affection.

Potts (Cooper) and the dwarves reacting to O’Shea

O’Shea has no plans to seduce Potts, but when things get “hotter” for her boyfriend and she’s told “to stay in the icebox like a good little salad,” she gives the impressionable Potts a kiss. And, as in the fairy tale, things escalate from there.

3. The Witty Dialogue/One Liners

What English major isn’t a sucker for good dialogue? With Wilder & Brackett as writers and Howard Hawks as the director, witty banter and frequent double entendres are a matter of course.

Early in the film, Miss Bragg, the housekeeper, badgers Professor Oddly for gobbling up the strawberry jam after writing an encyclopedia entry on strawberries. She then expresses horror at Professor Magenbruch’s studies.

“I’m just starting my article on sex, Miss Bragg,” he answers. “Any objections?”

“No,” she concedes. “I trust you have more control of yourself than Professor Oddly.”

And the one liners! Some favorites:

O’Shea: “Say, who decorated this place, the mug that shot Lincoln?”

Potts: “Make no mistake, I shall regret the absence of your keen mind; unfortunately, it is inseparable from an extremely disturbing body.”

O’Shea (describing her throat): “It’s as red as The Daily Worker and just as sore.”

Miss Bragg (speaking of O’Shea): “That is the kind of woman that makes whole civilizations topple!”

I always wonder why so many Gilmore Girls and Aaron Sorkin fans won’t give 30s and 40s comedies a try. Ball of Fire not only employs the banter they love so well, but avoids the trap of making EVERY character eloquent (a Sorkin flaw). The contrast between O’Shea’s wisecracking and Potts’ slow earnestness is one of the delights of the film, and given that Cooper typically played a Clint Eastwood type, his professorial wordiness is particularly amusing. As the Self-Styled Siren put it, “Who besides Billy Wilder would look at Gary Cooper, the most laconic speaker in Hollywood, and think, ‘Linguistics!’”

4. Wonderful Characters (and Performances)

With eight professors, a nightclub singer, a mobster and his minions, the DA and his team, and Potts’ other research subjects, a viewer would be unreasonable to expect much character development in any but the main players. Romantic comedies rarely get beyond stereotypes anyway. But most of the characters in Ball of Fire are unique and memorable, from the prim widower with the sexless interpretation of romance, to the genial Professor Magenbruch, who can’t stop thinking about his need to research for the sex entry. Even Joe Lilac’s two minions are funny in their villainy. And at the center of the film, we have Sugarpuss O’Shea, played by Stanwyck in an Oscar-nominated performance.

Stanwyck’s job as Snow White is to charm, and she takes to it naturally. She’s laid back and confident, and as cool as her companions are geeky. (I kept thinking of an Elizabeth Bennett landing in the middle of The Big Bang Theory.) Most of all, O’Shea’s a great deal of fun, whether leading her band in a quiet version of “Boogie” at the start of the story, or teaching the professors to conga. She doesn’t want to harm any of the professors with her deception, but she is so used to looking out for herself that their brand of vulnerability is foreign to her.

O’Shea too is soon smitten, so unfamiliar with sincerity that it floors her even as her comfort with her sexuality undoes her companions. Her guilt at duping such lovable men is palpable.

O’Shea, discovering Potts’ love for her

Stanwyck lost the Oscar to Joan Fontaine in Suspicion that year. Fontaine’s was a strong performance, but I think Stanwyck’s dazzling turn should have guaranteed her win. Though some of the credit for her fully rounded performance definitely goes to the writers, Stanwyck is so believable in the midst of this crazy plot that she grounds the film. A once reluctant watcher of black and white flicks, I became a classic movie enthusiast and lifelong Stanwyck fan after watching this movie. I suspect I’m not the only one.

5. The Grammarian Winning the Girl?

English majors—especially males—don’t get a lot of cred in the romantic lead department, especially when up against mobsters like Joe Lilac.

Dana Andrews playing the suave Joe Lilac

Suave Lilac (Dana Andrews), Potts’ rival

At least women can get the “sexy librarian” rep. Occasionally, poets can win some attention in film (and I know such gifts helped my friends on Valentine’s Day). But grammarians? Teachers of the comma splice? Among an unglamorous profession, grammar professors are the nadir when it comes to sexy reps, right down there with nuclear physicists.

Potts, trying to box based on a book’s lessons

“You see, this is the first time anybody moved in on my brain,” says O’Shea after entering Potts’ home, and you know when she later glows at the possibility of becoming “Mrs. Lilac” just how unlikely the brain is to triumph.

But slowly, Potts makes inroads. O’Shea even reads a grammar book in her spare time, and there’s a whole discussion about the repetitiveness of her phrase “on account of because” in the midst of a romantic interlude. Only Wilder and Brackett could not only make this scene romantic, but convincing. Due to the caliber of their writing and Stanwyck’s performance, we trust that this cynical nightclub singer really does get so flushed in company with “corny” Potts that she needs to take the movie’s equivalent of a cold shower (a towel to the neck).

And this triumph, my English major friends, is a rare treat to witness. Good luck finding a modern film so generous in its treatment of grammarians. When you find one, be sure to let me know. In the meantime, I’ll take another serving of Ball of Fire.

Check out the other romantic comedy entries in the blogathon!