The five best directors Cary Grant ever worked with: “I am deeply indebted to each”
I recently brought up Cary Grant to a friend, who replied, “Who’s she?”, breaking my heart just a tiny bit.
Unfortunately, I realised, not everyone is as well-acquainted with the legendary actor these days, but there was a time when he was as well-known as (pardon if the comparison feels blasphemous) Timothée Chalamet these days.
Of course, Grant’s legacy hasn’t exactly died out, but it seems like it’s becoming rarer for younger generations to sit down and watch the kinds of films that made him famous, whether due to dwindling attention spans or newer shows streaming having the generation in a chokehold, remains a debate. Would a modern-day teenager, brought up on short-form social media content and post-modern humour, appreciate the slapstick charm of Bringing Up Baby? While some younger people will certainly find the film endearing, you can imagine it being a struggle for many, their brains wired by memes and reels far-removed from 1930s screwball comedy.
Grant’s comedic genius ensured his legacy as a star of many classics throughout his career, aided by his easygoing persona that radiated with charm. Really, you couldn’t ask for more if you needed a humorous leading man: he had the looks, the talent, and the charisma. To become such an icon of the silver screen, though, he had to learn from the best, and he found that he was able to hone his skills most successfully when he worked with a certain array of filmmakers who encouraged him to unlock the parts of himself that he’d never been able to access before.
“Each of those directors permitted me the release of improvisation during the rehearsing of each scene, rather in the manner that Dave Brubeck’s musical group improvises on the central theme, never losing sight of the original mood, key or rhythm, no matter how far out they go,” Grant wrote in his book, Archie Leach.
The first was Howard Hawks, of course, who directed Grant in classic screwball romances like Bringing Up Baby and His Girl Friday. Alongside these being arguably some of the most beloved movies Grant ever made, Hawks also directed him in Only Angels Have Wings, I Was a Male War Bride, and “the not-so-popular” 1952 comedy Monkey Business, indicating a clear respect for one another as both friends and collaborators. While Hawks boasts a mixed bag of work, including the western, it was comedy where he thrived, especially with Grant, whose career sprang from stand-up and vaudeville.
Similarly, the actor loved working with George Cukor, who paired him with Katharine Hepburn several times, and to great acclaim for their chemistry, most notably in The Philadelphia Story and Holiday. They were a great duo (their collaborations extending to Bringing Up Baby, too, of course), but it was under Cukor that they worked together the most, creating some of the most iconic rom-coms of Hollywood’s golden years.
A believer in “if it works, it works”, if Grant got on well with a director, he certainly didn’t hesitate to re-team with them, even if many years had passed. In that vein was Leo McCarey, who directed him in both 1937’s The Awful Truth and then the tragic An Affair to Remember 20 years later. The same went for George Stevens, with whom he worked on Penny Serenade, Talk of the Town and Gunga Din, which may have been as iconic as some of his other collaborations, but what they achieved for Grant was far greater: they inspired confidence in the actor, as he admitted, which proved to be the key to his overwhelming success.
But none did it quite like the master himself, Alfred Hitchcock. The pair worked on four movies together, beginning with 1941’s Suspicion and culminating in 1959’s North by Northwest. There seemed to be an intrinsic understanding between the two, which resulted in some of the pair’s best films. Hitchcock got a lot out of working with Grant, too, reportedly proclaiming, “Knowing Cary is the greatest association I’ve had with any film actor. Cary is the only actor I ever loved in my whole life”.
According to Grant’s candid admission, these filmmakers “permitted me to discover how far out I could go with confidence, while guided by their quiet, sensitive directorial approval. I am deeply indebted to each of them for their permission. And their patience.” Clearly, he just needed a little extra push to inspire him to greatness, which he found in these directors, whom he also called his friends.
