Movies

    

I want to be Nora Charles when I grow up. No wait, I want to be Ilsa Lund. No, no, I want to be Tracy Lord. Give me a movie from the 1930’s or ‘40’s and I probably have tried to emulate the heroine at some point or another. And why not? Nora was witty, Ilsa beautiful and Tracy…ah; Tracy was so magnificent that she ended up romancing three men in one night! I’ve wanted to be them all: Vivien Leigh, Ginger Rogers, Veronica Lake or Katharine Hepburn despite the mental illnesses, declines into obscurity, infidelities and tragic ends.

I’m a sucker for an old movie. Always have been. There’s something grand about them. Stripped down to a man, a woman and a glass of alcohol, these classics create worlds that I long to step into. Populated by characters with quirky nicknames like “Red” or “Kid”, they seduce me into a time that never was.

I go back and forth between ­Casablanca- and ­Citizen Kane- for all time greatest, but it’s ­The Philadelphia Story- that wins my vote as most entertaining. As good as Grace Kelly is, she’s not ­my- Tracy, not really. Nothing can compare to Jimmy Stewart running around calling Cary Grant “C. K. Dexter Haven” or little Dinah Lord trying to manipulate everything into going the way ­she- wants it to. And the scene where Tracy and Mike get drunk and take a midnight swim? Don’t even get me started. Yet, for all of “the privileged class enjoying its privileges”, this film has heart. Tracy sends Mike into the loving but sarcastic arms of Liz, the girl who’s loved him for years. Mr. and Mrs. Lord patch up their differences and happily attend their daughter’s wedding. C. K. Dexter Haven sweeps Tracy off her feet again and marries her before she has a chance to collect her thoughts.

It’s silly and scattered and doesn’t take itself seriously, but it’s grand fun and it’s a trip I’d willingly take again and again.