Its purpose is only to delight, and it succeeds.
Audio:
The sound comes to us courtesy of Dolby Digital processing, in 1.0 monaural. It displays an exceptionally clean and clear midrange, which is about all there is to it, with almost no discernable background noise. Highs, lows, and dynamics are pretty much non-issues, they are so limited. You want to hear what the characters are saying? You hear what they're saying. Period.
Extras:
The movie is done up in one of Warner Bros.' Special Edition two-disc sets. Disc one contains the feature film and an audio commentary by film historian, critic, and director Peter Bogdanovich. Bogdanovich is one of the few commentators I can listen to at any length. If you remember, his movie "What's Up, Doc?" was an affectionate tribute to "Bringing Up Baby," so he has a solid familiarity with the older film. What's more, he was an acquaintance of Howard Hawks, and he includes many Hawks reminiscences along the way (often mimicking Hawks's voice, I might add). I was also pleased that Bogdanovich was never reluctant to laugh spontaneously at many points in the story himself, a sure sign that he appreciates the film as much as he says he does. It's a more personal and intimate commentary than most, from a man you'd like to know and talk with about movies. In addition, disc one contains a Howard Hawks movie trailer gallery with trailers for "Bringing Up Baby," "Sergeant York," "To Have and Have Not," "The Big Sleep," and "Rio Bravo"; thirty scene selections; English as the only spoken-language option; and English, French, and Spanish subtitles.
Disc two contains a pair of well-made documentaries, "Cary Grant: A Class Apart" and "The Men Who Made the Movies: Howard Hawks." Neither documentary was created specifically for "Bringing Up baby," but obviously both documentaries contain information about this vital film. More in a minute. In addition, there is a rather brainless, eighteen-minute musical-comedy short, "Campus Cinderella," with Johnny Davis and Penny Singleton; and a Merrie Melodies cartoon in Technicolor, "A Star Is Hatched," that features a load of movie-star caricatures. Both shorts are from 1938.
The newly made documentary, "Cary Grant: A Class Apart," is worthy of the star. Made by Turner Entertainment in 2004, it's eighty-seven minutes long, divided into twenty-three chapters, and suggests that Grant was a far more complex man and a far more diverse and gifted actor than most people think. It is also more candid than most such documentaries about Grant in that it deals in several segments with his alleged homosexual relationship with lifelong buddy Randolph Scott, as well as eliciting honest opinions from family, friends, and coworkers. Among the many people interviewed for the piece are former wives Barbara Grant and Betsy Drake; friends Roderick Mann and Ralph Lauren; directors George Cukor (vintage), Peter Bogdanovich, Howard Hawks (vintage), Mel Shavelson, Alfred Hitchcock (vintage), and Stanley Donen; actors Martin Landau, Ralph Bellamy (vintage), Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. (vintage), Dina Merrill, Eva Marie Saint, Jill St. John, Deborah Kerr (vintage), Samantha Eggar, and George Kennedy; screenwriters Sidney Sheldon and Ernest Lehman; film critics Elvis Mitchell and David Denby; authors Nancy Nelson and Todd McCarthy; and film historians Jeannine Basinger and James Harvey. Using interviews, film clips, and excerpts from Grant's own autobiography, the program goes through the star's career examining his life and his films from beginning to end. It's a fitting tribute to a man who started his career in vaudeville as Archie Leach before becoming the screen's most sophisticated leading man, playing with equal ease light-comedy, drama, and mystery, often within the same movie.
The second documentary, "The Men Who Made the Movies: Howard Hawks," is equally illuminating, if not quite so absorbing. It was made in 2001 for Turner Classic Movies, it's narrated by actor-director Sidney Pollack, it's fifty-five minutes long, and it's divided into sixteen chapters. Rather than the myriad of interviews we find in the first documentary, this second one is mostly a series of extended vintage interviews with Hawks himself, intermingled with a plentitude of film clips. In a great and revealing line about his 1946 detective classic "The Big Sleep," Hawks says, "You don't have to be too logical; just make good scenes." The man made many good scenes.
Since Warner Bros. discovered the joys of the keep case, as they have here with a slim-line, two-disc package, they have had to give up a little something else. While I was never keen on the old single-disc snapper case, I did sort of like the plastic-and-cardboard foldout container they used for two-disc sets. I always worried about what I would do if one of the plastic center posts broke, but I appreciated all the room the studio had on the inside to print chapter titles, background material, and bonus information. Nowadays we have to depend on a paper insert for all of that, and "Bringing Up Baby" comes with no paper insert. Oh, well....
Parting Thoughts:
Consider that "Bringing Up Baby" was made in 1938, yet its humor is timeless. The comedy appeals to those who enjoy verbal wit as well as to those who enjoy laughing at purely physical gags. Now, consider some recent comedies like "New York Minute," "White Chicks," "The Girl Next Door," "Love Don't Cost a Thing," "Garfield," and "Scooby-Doo 2." I'm not sure if public taste or Hollywood's taste is declining. One of the few comedies in the past couple of years that came close to the intelligence of "Bringing Up Baby" was the Coen brothers' "Intolerable Cruelty," and it lost its shirt. What it all boils down to, I suppose, is that everybody is different, and it's a darned good thing for the availability of movies on DVD to accommodate a wide variety of personal preferences.
Meanwhile, I'm putting my money on "Bringing Up Baby" to outlast the "Scooby Garfields Next Door" any day. They don't call "Baby" a classic for nothing.
The sound comes to us courtesy of Dolby Digital processing, in 1.0 monaural. It displays an exceptionally clean and clear midrange, which is about all there is to it, with almost no discernable background noise. Highs, lows, and dynamics are pretty much non-issues, they are so limited. You want to hear what the characters are saying? You hear what they're saying. Period.
Extras:
The movie is done up in one of Warner Bros.' Special Edition two-disc sets. Disc one contains the feature film and an audio commentary by film historian, critic, and director Peter Bogdanovich. Bogdanovich is one of the few commentators I can listen to at any length. If you remember, his movie "What's Up, Doc?" was an affectionate tribute to "Bringing Up Baby," so he has a solid familiarity with the older film. What's more, he was an acquaintance of Howard Hawks, and he includes many Hawks reminiscences along the way (often mimicking Hawks's voice, I might add). I was also pleased that Bogdanovich was never reluctant to laugh spontaneously at many points in the story himself, a sure sign that he appreciates the film as much as he says he does. It's a more personal and intimate commentary than most, from a man you'd like to know and talk with about movies. In addition, disc one contains a Howard Hawks movie trailer gallery with trailers for "Bringing Up Baby," "Sergeant York," "To Have and Have Not," "The Big Sleep," and "Rio Bravo"; thirty scene selections; English as the only spoken-language option; and English, French, and Spanish subtitles.
Disc two contains a pair of well-made documentaries, "Cary Grant: A Class Apart" and "The Men Who Made the Movies: Howard Hawks." Neither documentary was created specifically for "Bringing Up baby," but obviously both documentaries contain information about this vital film. More in a minute. In addition, there is a rather brainless, eighteen-minute musical-comedy short, "Campus Cinderella," with Johnny Davis and Penny Singleton; and a Merrie Melodies cartoon in Technicolor, "A Star Is Hatched," that features a load of movie-star caricatures. Both shorts are from 1938.
The newly made documentary, "Cary Grant: A Class Apart," is worthy of the star. Made by Turner Entertainment in 2004, it's eighty-seven minutes long, divided into twenty-three chapters, and suggests that Grant was a far more complex man and a far more diverse and gifted actor than most people think. It is also more candid than most such documentaries about Grant in that it deals in several segments with his alleged homosexual relationship with lifelong buddy Randolph Scott, as well as eliciting honest opinions from family, friends, and coworkers. Among the many people interviewed for the piece are former wives Barbara Grant and Betsy Drake; friends Roderick Mann and Ralph Lauren; directors George Cukor (vintage), Peter Bogdanovich, Howard Hawks (vintage), Mel Shavelson, Alfred Hitchcock (vintage), and Stanley Donen; actors Martin Landau, Ralph Bellamy (vintage), Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. (vintage), Dina Merrill, Eva Marie Saint, Jill St. John, Deborah Kerr (vintage), Samantha Eggar, and George Kennedy; screenwriters Sidney Sheldon and Ernest Lehman; film critics Elvis Mitchell and David Denby; authors Nancy Nelson and Todd McCarthy; and film historians Jeannine Basinger and James Harvey. Using interviews, film clips, and excerpts from Grant's own autobiography, the program goes through the star's career examining his life and his films from beginning to end. It's a fitting tribute to a man who started his career in vaudeville as Archie Leach before becoming the screen's most sophisticated leading man, playing with equal ease light-comedy, drama, and mystery, often within the same movie.
The second documentary, "The Men Who Made the Movies: Howard Hawks," is equally illuminating, if not quite so absorbing. It was made in 2001 for Turner Classic Movies, it's narrated by actor-director Sidney Pollack, it's fifty-five minutes long, and it's divided into sixteen chapters. Rather than the myriad of interviews we find in the first documentary, this second one is mostly a series of extended vintage interviews with Hawks himself, intermingled with a plentitude of film clips. In a great and revealing line about his 1946 detective classic "The Big Sleep," Hawks says, "You don't have to be too logical; just make good scenes." The man made many good scenes.
Since Warner Bros. discovered the joys of the keep case, as they have here with a slim-line, two-disc package, they have had to give up a little something else. While I was never keen on the old single-disc snapper case, I did sort of like the plastic-and-cardboard foldout container they used for two-disc sets. I always worried about what I would do if one of the plastic center posts broke, but I appreciated all the room the studio had on the inside to print chapter titles, background material, and bonus information. Nowadays we have to depend on a paper insert for all of that, and "Bringing Up Baby" comes with no paper insert. Oh, well....
Parting Thoughts:
Consider that "Bringing Up Baby" was made in 1938, yet its humor is timeless. The comedy appeals to those who enjoy verbal wit as well as to those who enjoy laughing at purely physical gags. Now, consider some recent comedies like "New York Minute," "White Chicks," "The Girl Next Door," "Love Don't Cost a Thing," "Garfield," and "Scooby-Doo 2." I'm not sure if public taste or Hollywood's taste is declining. One of the few comedies in the past couple of years that came close to the intelligence of "Bringing Up Baby" was the Coen brothers' "Intolerable Cruelty," and it lost its shirt. What it all boils down to, I suppose, is that everybody is different, and it's a darned good thing for the availability of movies on DVD to accommodate a wide variety of personal preferences.
Meanwhile, I'm putting my money on "Bringing Up Baby" to outlast the "Scooby Garfields Next Door" any day. They don't call "Baby" a classic for nothing.
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[release]14117[/release]