Midnight (1939) is one of those rom-coms that by all rights should make best-of lists. Written by the classic comedy duo of Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder plus Edwin Justus Mayer, who penned the satire To Be or Not to Be. Packed with stars, including Oscar winner Claudette Colbert, scene stealer John Barrymore and Mary Astor. Even charming cameos by gossip columnist Hedda Hopper and Monty Woolley.
Given its pedigree, it should be no surprise that the film is hilarious, and director Mitchell Leisen, who also helmed Easy Living and Remember the Night, gives the outstanding script its due.
Why then, did I have to stumble upon it?
It’s true that Don Ameche is no Clark Gable, but he has a blustery, rough-hewn charm of his own. Plus, he’s not the focus. This is a rom-com that leans into the comedy, and the laughs are primarily thanks to Eve Peabody; the breathtakingly confident, unscrupulous heroine (Colbert); and her game sidekick, Georges Flammarion (Barrymore).
Eve has arrived in Paris with only the evening dress on her back thanks to her poor luck at a roulette table. She’s looking for a rich future — or as she puts it, a “tub of butter” — preferably in the arms of a wealthy husband, not those of the sweet taxi driver (Ameche) who picks her up. For reasons of his own, Georges (Barrymore), a man she stumbles into while crashing a party, abets her pursuit of a wealthy, suave player, Jacques Picot (Francis Lederer). Things are looking promising since Picot appreciates the newcomer’s beauty and cool assessment of his character. Only the taxi driver and the limits of her con-artist wiles can foil her plans.
Claudette Colbert would have been at home in the Ocean’s 11 franchise. The breezy assurance with which she pulls off her various lies and schemes as Eve is a joy to behold. Ernst Lubitsch surely erred in limiting his casting of her to a mistress teaching a wife to “jazz up your lingerie” in TheSmiling Lieutenant and a put-upon mate in Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife. What a waste to not cast her as the schemer (Miriam Hopkins) in Trouble in Paradise.
The repartee between Georges and Eve when they are collectively spinning tales makes you wonder just how many takes it took before Barrymore and Colbert could keep their faces from crumbling into laughter at these Brackett-Wilder-Mayer lines. And Barrymore as a fairy godmother? His expressions alone crack me up:
I’m not giving anything else away. Just watch it. If you’re anything like me, it won’t be the last time.
This is part of the Classic Movie Blog Association’s Make ’em Laugh blogathon. Check out my peers’ funny takes on their favorite comedies at this link.
At this year’s Oscars, Daphne Zuniga and John Cusack were standing together to pay honor to Rob Reiner for his unforgettable but unappreciated second film, The Sure Thing (1985).
The main character, Gib (John Cusack), immediately became the romantic ideal of this writer as an eleven-year-old, a position he held for decades.
My sisters and I — entranced watching Gib shotgun a beer — all tried the maneuver with soda on our porch, with potentially catastrophic effects on the cement and on our esophagi. Before my ten-year high school reunion, I insisted a friend watch the film as part of our preparatory movie marathon, along with School Ties and other nostalgic faves.
“Why have I never heard of this?” she said afterward.
Exactly.
I know there could be many reasons for its lack of popularity: its distribution, a poorly chosen clip for its marketing campaign, bad timing. But for me, the culprit has always been that boom box, held aloft in the iconic scene from Say Anything four years later. If it weren’t for that image and the earworm song playing along with it, maybe the rest of you would stop talking about that lame Lloyd Dobler and instead celebrate his forerunner: Walter “Gib” Gibson.
Charming, hilarious, endearing Gib, who has a lot more going on than Lloyd, whose lapdog approach verges on pathetic.
Say Anything has always exasperated me. Part of it is my allegiance to Gib. Part of it is my conviction that Lloyd’s obsession is — at best — annoying. But perhaps the worst thing about that film is my confusion over its appeal, as if my peers had said, “Yeah, Alec Baldwin’s acting is okay in Glengarry Glen Ross, but have you seen William Baldwin in Sliver?”
For me, Say Anything would be a complete wash without Lloyd’s lovelorn best friend (Lili Taylor) and the song “In Your Eyes.” Cusack’s charm is considerable, but it’s not enough to gild that turkey of a character.
But of course, to convince you, I need to start where I did: with The Sure Thing, which thanks to Peter Gabriel, too few of you have seen. Once I take you through its many appeals, maybe you’ll take a second look at Lloyd and Gib.
Opening Scenes
Gib’s hopelessness at picking up women in high school is immediately established in The Sure Thing. Was there ever a worse pickup line than “Consider outer space?” Perhaps later, when Gib comes up with “Did you know that Nietzsche died of syphilis?”
We also quickly see that his bro-type friend, Lance (Anthony Edwards), is nothing like him. Gib may not be as sure of himself as Lance, but he’s witty. Gib feels despondent about striking out with high school girls, so Lance assures him that these girls will magically transform once they get to college. Gib, with a wry expression and shake of the head, says, “I’m gonna miss you, Lance.”
Soon Lance will leave for UCLA, while Gib will depart for a small Northeastern college. Unfortunately for Gib, his poor luck with women will continue, especially when he tries to pick up his classmate Alison, a stuffy academic type (Daphne Zuniga, pre-Melrose Place). He asks her to tutor him in English to woo her. It’s not a bad ploy. I enjoyed his dramatic depiction of his fast-food future if he doesn’t pass the class. But he soon pisses her off, making her an enemy instead. So, when Lance gives him an appealing prospect — come see me at Christmas and I’ll get you laid — Gib’s discovery that Alison will be accompanying him on the trip is not a happy moment.
So here we are, a road trip with two people who dislike one another, a rom-com standard since It Happened One Night. Hijinks are about to ensue, which will begin with the couple offering to drive them, played by Lisa Jane Persky and Tim Robbins. The couple wants to spend the cross-country hours singing showtunes. Witness Cusack’s hilariously horrified expression when this plan begins to be executed. He is every teenager everywhere. This guy is gonna be a star.
Believability
One thing I love about 80s films is that they often feature teens who are low on funds instead of focusing on the privileged. (In fact, when rich characters are included, they are often villains.) Neither the hero nor the heroine of The Sure Thing can afford airfare, so they go to the ride board (remember those?) Instead of dressing in fashionable or skimpy attire, the two are wearing unsexy (and in Gib’s case, ill-advised) outfits. Gib’s immature sleepwear looks like he’s worn it since he was fourteen. Neither can afford much to eat; we witness him snacking on pork rinds and snowballs. Alison is so worried about her parents’ rules she misses what constitutes an “emergency” that would enable her to use their credit card. These leads have always seemed like people I know, not the glamorous, unconvincing teens in so many movies I’ve seen since.
Likeability of the Characters
Both Gib and Alison are believably awkward with each other as their attraction grows. The characters’ combination of bravado and insecurity is exactly what it’s like to be that age.
Just a few years after Porky’s celebration of objectifying women, Gib’s character is sensitive in unexpected ways. Sure, he’s stereotypically masculine too. (Note when he shares his distaste for the name Elliot, the kind of guy, he says, who “eats paste,” which he compares to the name Nick, the “kind of guy who doesn’t mind if you puke in his car.”) Yet he checks on Alison after a scary encounter and is careful to respect her boundaries during their trip, making sure not to “try anything” she doesn’t want.
Alison, meanwhile, is afraid she’s not cool. She takes notes on every word the professor speaks in her English class, then can’t get past the professor’s jibe that she needs to live more adventurously. That’s why she overreacts when Gib teases her for being “repressed.” For me, a nerdy girl growing up in the 80s, Alison was pretty darn familiar. Gib was that charming combination of confident and sensitive that isn’t easy to find, especially in someone as attractive as Cusack. As a stressed-out freshman in college, I sought a (comparatively) relaxed boyfriend like Gib, so much so that I started dating the first person I met with terrible posture.
The film has also had some funny and enduring effects on my habits. Alison’s habit of nervously checking around a motel room for anything left behind has haunted me — and has resulted in extra care before departures — in every place I’ve stayed since.
The Humor of the Leads
As a kid, my favorite scene was Gib’s dramatic encounter with a sketchy truck driver. He’s just having so much fun freaking the guy out.
I’ve always loved the way Cusack plays Gib’s insecurity, as when he goes to a bar to escape when Alison is talking to her boyfriend on the phone. Even better is how he tries to impress her by showing off his supposed juggling skills when he returns.
Gib has so many good lines. My favorites are his defense of the nutritional value of pork rinds and when he shares the random questions running through his head: “Does God exist? Who invented liquid soap and why?”
Alison’s failure when she tries to shotgun a beer cracks me up. I also smile at Zuniga’s goofy delivery of “I’m the kind of gal who likes to live on the edge,” which says very clearly that she is anything but.
The Joys of the Minor Characters
Like Better Off Dead, another great Cusack flick, this film is full of funny minor characters.
The singing couple is great, with impressive performances from both actors. I hadn’t heard any of these rusty, awful tunes before, and I laugh aloud when the two become fearful of these teens they’re transporting and try to bar them from returning to the car, screaming, “Lock the doors!” It gets me every time.
I love the roommate who wants his almost certainly fictional sexual encounter to be published in Playboy.
Then there’s the semi driver who helps Gib get his “sure thing” (i.e., get laid without strings) because “my whole life, I never had a sure thing.”
Every single character in the dive bar where Gib goes to avoid Alison’s talk with her boyfriend is hilarious: The deadpan bartender, who looks at Gib’s fake ID and says, “Okay, Dr. Levinson, what’ll it be?” The fed-up waitress with her Flo of Mel’s Diner hair and her disdainful glances at her clientele. The charming customers who cheer up Gib with their Christmas carols and their uncertainty of whether they are “goodlooking” men. I can’t decide which I like more: the guy asking the waitress for critiques on his self-discipline or the cowboy, who tells his companions, “I was in Paris once with my wife. Boy, am I glad she’s dead.”
For those of us who relish funny encounters, The Sure Thing has always felt aspirational as well as entertaining.
The Romance
Zuniga doesn’t have Cusack’s talent, but she was very good in this film. Alison’s uncertainty and awkwardness come through in Zuniga’s voice, posture, and expressions.
Cusack is amazing in it: by turns sarcastic, tender, playful, and wistful. Still a teen when this film was produced, he is a far better comedic actor in this, his first lead role, than actors twice his age.
He and Zuniga have great chemistry, and their growth as characters in the movie is sweet and believable. Gib grows up in Alison’s company, and she learns to relax and act more her age (i.e., not 85). What I love is that these are incremental growths: the characters still are fundamentally who they always were.
Of course, the “sure thing” (Nicolette Sheridan) isn’t much of a character, nor is Alison’s boyfriend. But we get more humorous encounters with Lance (Edwards) in the final scenes, including what he did to set up this situation for his friend.
I won’t reveal the end. If it’s a little cheesy, that sentimentality is earned, and Cusack and Zuniga sell it.
The Comparison
Before I left for my junior year in England in the mid-1990s, I discussed with a friend the horror of a partner being with you with nothing to do. He nodded; he felt the same. The image of Lloyd, sitting in Diane’s (Ione Skye’s) dorm room playing video games and practicing kickboxing, the sport “of the future,” while she tries to enjoy her fellowship was one of the reasons that my own boyfriend and I agreed that long distance was a good alternative for us.
I shivered at these lines from Say Anything, thinking of Lloyd glomming onto her:
Diane’s dad: “What are your plans for the future?”
Lloyed: “Spend as much time as possible with Diane before she leaves.”
Sure, Lloyd looks good compared to Diane’s criminal father. But that’s not a high bar. Being adrift at his age isn’t a bad sign; it’s even endearing. But she is driven and has a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity he’s about to derail. Clingy is not a good look, even on John Cusack.
And Diane, oh Diane. At points Skye’s acting is so stilted I found it difficult to watch, so it was hard to feel for her character. While Diane is attracted to Lloyd, it felt like she was just replacing her dad with another guy to lean on.
I laughed a few times during Say Anything, mainly at Lili Taylor’s funny delivery and descriptions of her ex. Compare that to The Sure Thing. The last time I saw it, it had been over a decade, and I still remembered so many scenes and lines with affection. And even though I knew everything coming, I laughed countless times.
When Rob Reiner died, I hoped there would be a reappraisal of this underappreciated comedic gem he’d directed, which was well-reviewed when it first came out. Roger Ebert had given it three and a half out of four stars and called it a “small miracle.”
Since Say Anything was not one of Reiner’s films, I thought The Sure Thing would finally get the due it had never been granted. Instead, the movie became a footnote in Reiner’s obituary, mentioned as if it were a regrettable blip between This Is Spinal Tap and Stand by Me. What a shame.
Hopefully, Zuniga and Cusack standing together to honor Reiner (still adorable together) will be a reminder to those who love it and a wake-up call to those who have never seen it.
Even if you like Say Anything, you should watch Cusack’s first starring role to witness the charisma that would turn him into a heartthrob and beloved comedy icon. There’s a dusting of that charm in Say Anything, but if you want to encounter its full wattage, spend a little time with Gib in The Sure Thing.
I have a sophisticated theory about why the Irene Dunne vehicle Together Again (1944) is never on any best-of, favorites, or romantic comedy lists despite the many joys of viewing it: the title sucks.
And when I say it sucks, I mean it’s the WORST TITLE I CAN IMAGINE. It’s so forgettable that every time I think of it, I have to look up Dunne’s IMDB site to find it. I cannot for the life of me remember it at all. And I’m a fan of the film! What does that say?
The title isn’t mysterious, as in The Natural, an aptly named, but box-office-ignorant choice. It’s not annoying, as in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. It’s just so impossibly blah and vague. Together Again. As in a remarriage? As in partners who re-team? As in peanut butter and jelly? WHAT does it mean? I’ve seen the film and any possible answer to that question is not a good one.
Of course, if I’d had my druthers, I would have named it this way: Charles Coburn, Matchmaker. Because any classic movie fan familiar with his work would run to see it then. But as I don’t have naming rights, I can just tell you this: Ignore the title; watch the film.
Why? I’ve posted a longwinded tribute to it, with comparisons to Veep, should you have time to kill. But here, I’ll give you the brief but essential rundown of why so many of you will love it:
It’s Such a Feminist Flick. A female mayor, people. Who rips on men who belittle her. Who makes fun of romance, and yet (despite herself) is itching for it after her husband’s death. Her father-in-law (Coburn) keeps trying to sway her to take things easier, to find a new man and stop worshipping his son. Hooked yet?
Irene Dunne. Oh she’s great. That odd, fluttery voice dishes out sarcasm with verve. Her on-point timing and ease of movement make her mesmerizing to hear and watch.
The Romance. I’m not a big fan of Charles Boyer’s, but the two actors have chemistry together. And I’ve always been a fan of the straightlaced gal and bohemian/relaxed guy meet-cute, probably because I was such a nerd as a kid.Unnecessary Aside and Spoiler of Other Films: I prefer Boyer’s & Dunne’s Love Affair (1939) to the more beloved An Affair to Remember (1957) remake, partially because Boyer & Dunne are more in sync and believable as a couple than Kerr and Grant, despite the latter’s extreme charm in his film. But mainly because Deborah Kerr seems such an inert actress to me, making the tragedy that befalls her less moving than that of the highly energetic Dunne. I mean, ask yourself: Which actress can you imagine in a gym? I rest my case. (The fact that I’m more like Kerr, gym-devotion wise, doesn’t alter my point narratively speaking.)
Coburn-Dunne Magic. I love these two together. You could ditch the romance and just enjoy Dunne & Coburn sparring, and never miss a thing. These two are so witty, have such a great rhythm together. And his expression when he rips on her for a frivolous hat purchase is so good I’m going to have to post it again (I believe this is post 3):
Alas, the only reason I discovered this film at all is because it was paired with the more famous Theodora Goes Wild in a Netflix two-set; to my surprise, I was disappointed with the comparatively famous madcap film, and fell hard for Together Again. If only the smart folks who’d named the former had taken a crack at the latter.
This post is part of the Classic Movie Blog Association’s blogathon on Underseen and Underrated films. If you haven’t checked out the other entries yet, go see them now!