A lingerie model named Mildred Plotka

At this point, and based on It Happened One Night (1934, Frank Capra), the screwball comedy foremost has that cut down your rival verbal jousting humor thing going for it. Maybe it’s because I’m Gen X, or maybe it’s because that was prevalent in my hometown growing up, but I find it endearing and relatable. It’s meant to be harmless. But how fun is that?

 

Twentieth Century (1934, Howard Hawks) is a toxic screwball comedy about emotional abuse played for laughs. And boy does it work. Going back through my favorite Golden Age Hollywood comedies, Twentieth Century stands out as an example of the entire work as a whole anywhere you land on the board the joke is mesmerizing.
     The structure of Twentieth Century is adept in that Hawks is able to craft controlled chaos that manages to be both pure anarchy and build to its climax. And Hawks is the first to capture the true spirit of madcap. He’s advancing comedy into the next age, hence the name of the express train and why the narrative boards it and no one is allowed off (including us). Anarchy as comedic device is also recognizable in the way the film’s bookended with the identical scene: nothing changes, we’re right back where we started.
     Another staple of screwball is the man and woman ideally matched as conduit of emotional telepathy for us to yearn for their romantic fulfillment. But think about how clever the variations are. In Twentieth Century, JAFFE turns LILY into a carbon copy of himself—once again the ideal match. I am still appreciating how creatively inspired this touch is. So now both leads are rotten to the core control freak divas with gigantic egos deranged by their fame obsessed destructive bents. This mutual desire is so dark when you think about it. And to be able to laugh at that is truly a riot. This is an atypical plot element for screwball: sex doesn’t drive the duo, abuse does.
     Jaffe is chronically manipulative, possessive, paranoid and prone to suicide threats. Lily is hostile, condescending, defiantly self-important, and prone to physical assault. (When that detective McGonigle returns with clothes torn, sleeves ripped, and welt from his forehead dripping blood after Lily found out about the wiretap, it’s played for laughs.) Domestic violence and suicide threats are constantly played for laughs. Yet it’s sweet and innocent. I’m not being sarcastic when I say I think it’s adorable when Lily says stuff like “If you ever bother me again I’ll get a gun and shoot you.”
     And in the end there’s no way we could particularly like Jaffe or Lily, but it’s impossible not to love the performances by John Barrymore and Carole Lombard. What’s sexier than a beautiful woman who’s also funny? She has that line like: we’re only alive between the curtains. They’re playing characters who can never experience real life because they’re only capable of performance. That makes me buy it even more.