His Girl Friday (1940)

A staccato of mumbled lines, a chaotic mess of failed gags and punch lines so feeble they would even struggle to put a smile on Ronald McDonalds face. You know when a film is bad when you start thinking about other much better and funnier films you wish you were watching instead – actually forget films, watching a dog chase his tale, paint dry on a wall or Ed Miliband doing his taxes would have been a far more enjoyable and laugh out loud experiences than watching His Girl Friday. I thought all things Friday were supposed to be fun! But considering Rebecca Blacks song and Howard Hawk’s film - I’m seriously rethinking that assumption! Walter Burns (Cary Grant) is a hot shot editor in chief of a big newspaper; however he gets bad news when he finds out that his most prized reporter and the woman who holds a candle to his heart, Hildy Johnson (Rosalind Russell) plans on leaving the newspaper to embark on a marriage with an insurances man. However Walter has a master plan to win her back by coaxing her into doing one last story, covering the upcoming execution of a murderer. After watching His Girl Friday I was grossly disappointed by it considering the shear amount of hype surrounding the film, mainly because of three reasons; firstly His Girl Friday was ranked number 19 on the AFI list of 100 greatest laughs, but it certainly didn’t live up to the billing. From seeing other films of that era and subject matter, it is plain to see that during the 40s people working in news rooms did speak at almost two millions miles per hour. Sure you can appreciate Hawks trying to get that authentic news room feel, but a rocket ship can have the complete works of Shakespeare etched to its side, but if it’s moving too fast you won’t ever be able to fully absorb the rich poetry of the writing. And this was exactly the problem I have with His Girl Friday; the characters merely spoke way too rapidly for you even to begin to immerse yourself in the dialogue or the subtext between characters. At times in the story I couldn’t be more lost that if I woke up blind folded in a maze listening to a Boris Johnson speech. But to be fair looking back on the film, I didn’t really miss much because it was mostly unremarkable, which was another problem I had with the Friday; it lacked any narrative depth, captivating set pieces or witty moments to engage your funny bone or your brain. Finally I felt that all the best writing (and I used that term loosely) were the preserve of the two main actors; Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell, whilst the other remaining characters were so wooden even Jonny 2 x 4 from Ed, Edd and Eddy would struggle to invent a personality for. His Girl Friday was the fool’s gold amongst the golden area of 1940’s cinema, because I would be a fool to watch this abysmal, unfunny heap of nonsense ever again!