Cary Grant in Penny Serenade

George Stevens (a wonderful talent – he directed Place in the Sun, which I consider to be that rarity – a perfect film) directed this three-hanky picture. Cary Grant was nominated for his first Oscar because of this performance. Probably because of one scene in particular, where he cries (it’s an interesting thing to watch. I’ve seen him get emotional, in other movies – but not to the point of tears). The scene is effective, actually, despite the treacly script, because of his work, and his talent guides him very very well through the manipulative mawkish material. The same goes for Irene Dunne who is a wonderful actress.

Because of who they are as actors – (their natural gifts, their sensibilities – as well as their connection to one another) – they don’t let the film drown them in its syrup. They resist the melodrama. They inject comedy, everything looks real and believable, they under-play things, they don’t squeeze out tears for our benefit … even though the film is screaming: THIS IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE YOU CRY! It is a joy to watch Cary Grant and Irene Dunne work together.

Here’s the plot, though. You will be able to hear the swooning violins, even in the barest bones of the story.

— Man and woman meet. He is a newspaper man, she works in a record store. Immediate attraction develops.

— He gets transferred to Tokyo. Before he leaves, he proposes marriage to her on New Year’s Eve – she accepts. They quickly get married – and he then goes off to his assignment in Japan on their wedding night. He will send for her later.

— 3 months later, she joins him in Japan. She tells him she is pregnant. In the next scene, there is a massive earthquake, during which she gets injured, loses the baby and … somehow … is also rendered unable to bear any more children.

— He buys a small newspaper to run. He tries to cheer her up, but he is hurting too. Not much help.

— They decide to adopt.

— They get an infant girl for a year’s probationary time, so that they can prove their fitness as parents. His newspaper is not doing well at all, but he is convinced it will become profitable.

— Needless to say, a year goes by – and by the end of the year – the 2 of them have fallen in love with their adopted baby, and also – the newspaper has shut down. They are told that the baby will be taken away from them.

— Cary Grant’s character goes to plead his case before the judge. (This is the scene for which he was nominated.) The judge is moved … and grants the couple the child.

— 6 years go by. The child becomes disgustingly cute. You want to smack her. She plays an angel in the Christmas play. Cary Grant and Irene Dunne sit in the audience, filled with pride.

— And then – BOOM – the child falls ill, and dies. In 3 weeks time. Basically, as a plot device. A plot device designed to heap tragedies upon this poor couple.

— After the death of their disgustingly cute adopted little girl, the marriage falls apart. Very very quickly (because, after all, the movie is almost over.) Neither can recover from the loss, and they can’t connect anymore.

— She decides to leave him. He doesn’t tell her not to. He is a ruined man.

— Then they get a fateful call from the orphanage – opening up the opportunity of adopting another child. Cary Grant and Irene Dunne embrace, as the violins swell … and we in the audience know that they now have a second chance.

The. End.

I mean, good LORD.

When their adopted child dies, I thought to myself, “My goodness, that’s a bit much, and I really can’t feel all that much about it.” I resisted having emotions about the whole thing, mainly because the film needed me to be having emotions desperately. So I rebelled.

Also, the little actress was too much of a cutesy child actor type for me to really connect with her.

I know it’s insane of me, to be talking about Penny Fucking Serenade as seriously as if it were a movie playing in the Cineplex right now … but I can’t help it.

Some wonderful things:

— Cary Grant and Irene Dunne were a famous pair. They made many successful movies together, mostly light-hearted comedies which were pretty much smash hits. This is their only serious foray.

— It’s a very conventional serious drama. It doesn’t have the dark neurotic elements of Hitchcock’s stuff – it’s your basic tearjerker. Think Beaches. Only in black and white. With Cary Grant.

— Cary Grant wasn’t attached to any one studio – and how that came to be is a story in and of itself. He bought his freedom from the studios, and yet paid no price in his career for it (so rare) – he continued to be a massive star. He could pick and choose his own projects, which was unheard of at that time. He had a great eye and ear for good scripts, and scripts that would suit him. He was rarely mis-cast, because he kept such a tight control over what he would appear in. And his business sense was incredibly acute. He was his own manager, his own agent. Astonishing. Nobody did that then. The part of Roger in Penny Serenade obviously appealed to him for a variety of reasons: for the first time, he played just your regular middle-class American guy, with middle-class aspirations. He moved into the mainstream of American life. He was a husband, a father … not a rakish semi-Cockney buffoon, or a goofball in glasses. He got to play a regular American guy, which he had been eager to do. Penny Serenade was a very big hit at the time, and it cemented his appeal.

— Watching their blossoming romance scenes in the beginning of the film, I realize why Marlon Brando said that he only watched 2 actors for the purposes of learning from them: Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant. He said that the only thing an actor should do, when watching the movies of those 2 guys, is STUDY THEM. Obviously, that’s what I’m going through right now – and I understand where Marlon was coming from.

Cary Grant is completely natural on screen. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t emote, he doesn’t demand that you like him … (which is why half the movie stars today are so boring, in my opinion … they need you to like them – and so they choose roles where they will always come off either looking good, or like a hero). Even when Grant is being slightly cruel (like in Notorious) … you still somehow like him. But it’s not because he demands your love. He’s more cagey than that, more edgy.

Roger, the guy he plays in Penny Serenade, is a classic newspaper man (at least as they are portrayed in the movies). Passionate about his work, but kind of irresponsible when it comes to real life. He will drop anything to follow a story. And he loves being with this girl, loves it … but the WAY he expresses it to her … is kind of veiled. There’s a shyness there. He holds back (like real men do in real life – that’s why it’s sexy) – he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve – he’ll make a joke in a serious moment to clear the air, etc. But he does all of this so naturally, it looks like life.

Because he’s a bit cagey about actually SAYING that he is in love with her – while at the same time his behavior tells us and her that he is MAD about her – it seems like a very real romance. (At least, in my experience. Heh. I get the cagey jokey goofball guys, who pretend to walk into lamp-posts right after they tell me they love me. And BOTH energies are true. Neither one is a lie.) Cary Grant plays a guy like that.

So later in the film, when life hits him hard, and the violins start playing … it is a true chastening. This is a man who didn’t really want to settle down, who was like a big kid … and so he goes through this punishing transformation. He becomes a man.

There are some very funny scenes when the 2 of them first take the adopted infant home. They have NO IDEA what they are doing. They are concerned, they both keep waking up and going to check on her, to make sure she is still breathing … When she cries, the 2 of them look at each other, and admit, “I have no idea what to do.”

Irene Dunne is a completely naturalistic actress. She has no “style” of acting. She would fit into any film today. She’s also got a real face, not a movie-star face. She looks like a real woman.

She’s obviously head over heels in love with her husband, but … she also doesn’t give it all away. She’s one of those great dames who populated the movies so much back then: capable of great softness, great femininity – but without sacrificing a major backbone. She knows how to HANDLE herself with men. Handle her emotions, and not do a big ol’ swan-dive into his arms.

There’s a great scene in the beginning where she and her roommate throw a New Year’s Eve party. Their small apartment is packed, the rugs are stacked against the wall, and messengers from bootleggers show up the door with booze … it’s a big bash. Roger (Cary Grant) hasn’t shown up yet.

Irene Dunne is, of course, CRUSHED – but she puts on a rock-hard act for everyone that it doesn’t matter to her. However, every time the doorbell rings, you can see her entire posture change. Damn, girl, I’ve been there.

But my favorite part is that when he finally walks in – and she sees him – you can feel the joy just surging through her – but does she run to him? No. Does she scold him, “Why didn’t you call?” No. She walks over to a group of people singing, and joins in. So that when he looks around, she is already busy. It’s a game, yes, a romantic game: Oh God, I have been having so much fun that I didn’t even notice you were totally blowing me off … Cary Grant sees her, grabs onto her hand, and she gives him this friendly yet casual look and says, “Hi! When did you get here?”

Anyway. The film, while extremely sentimental, is saved by small moments like that one – and by the insistent reality of the two lead performances. It looks like a real marriage.

And it is quite an interesting thing, somehow, to watch Cary Grant break down. He did it with no fanfare, no sense of “Look at me, having a big emotional moment” – the whole thing was done in long-shot – so it wasn’t like there were loving closeups of tears down his face.

But the emotion was real. It’s the kind of moment that reaches through the screen and touches you. (Very unlike the violin-surges of other moments in the film, where George Stevens was constantly reminding you that this was a sad story …)

Cary Grant’s plea to the judge is real. It’s better than the movie itself.