If You Could Only CookWhenever the subject of screwball comedy comes up, I usually flash on the same handful of titles in this short-lived movie genre which began sometime in the early thirties with such models of the form as Twentieth Century (1934) and It Happened One Night (1934) and ended sometime in the early forties around the time of Preston Sturges’ The Palm Beach Story (1942) and Frank Capra’s Arsenic and Old Lace (1944). But like the film noir genre which continues to yield overlooked gems like Crime Wave (1954) and Highway 301 (1950), many lesser known and almost forgotten entries in the screwball comedy catagory continue to resurface on Turner Classic Movies, reminding us that occasionally you might find a diamond in the rough. Such is the case with IF YOU COULD ONLY COOK (1935).
Why this film isn’t as well known as My Man Godfrey (1936) or Easy Living (1937) or Nothing Sacred (1937) or several other more famous screwball comedies is a bit of a mystery because it is practically note perfect from start to finish and a total delight for the duration of its brisk 72 minute running time. The storyline might not be particularly original as it trades on a class reversal/mistaken identity plot twist so popular in comedies of its era but the sharp, class conscious dialogue by Howard J. Green & Gertrude Purcell, witty performances by the ensemble cast, stylish Art Deco art direction and Capra-like mixture of wisecracks, sentiment, romance and Depression era populism elevate IF YOU COULD ONLY COOK to the upper echelons of the genre.
“You must know the master of the house like a book,” Jennings informs him, stressing “Most times sir, you’ll find it a very uninteresting and uninspired book but it’s all part of the job, sir…You must give him the impression you are hanging on every word he says, even though it is drivel.” “Oh, is that what you do?” Buchanan asks. “Yes, sir…I mean no sir,” Jennings quickly answers, realizing his candor has just overstepped the bounds of their master-servant relationship. Meanwhile, Flash (Lionel Stander), Rossini’s overly suspicious henchman, smells something funny about the whole servant arrangement and starts his own investigation of Buchanan which brings about the topsy-turvy ending. Herbert Marshall, who always projects an elegant, sophisticated and intelligent demeanor that is the epitome of an upper class British gentleman, is allowed to loosen up in this outing. Or maybe it’s Jean Arthur who deserves the credit for drawing him out of his stereotypical mode, resulting in a much more animated and lively performance than usual. They really do make a marvelous comedy team with real chemistry between them and it makes their evolving romance something to root for. Almost upstaging them are Leo Carrillo and Lionel Stander who are great fun in their tongue-in-cheek impersonations of a nouveau riche gangster and his crude, unrepentant sidekick.
Carrillo, in particular, is hilarious as an enthusiastic gourmet who gets wildly excited by Joan’s cooking (watch him roll those crazy eyes!). “Is this Lobster Thermidor or is that Lobster Thermidor?” he exclaims rapturously after taking a bite of Joan’s lastest creation while Stander denotes his boss’s pretentiousness with the sarcastic response: “I don’t know. Is it?” Stander’s sour, disdainful personality and his disinterest in just about everything that reeks of upper class respectability makes him the ideal straight man for Carrillo’s whimsical, status-conscious racketeer. Carrillo was usually stereotyped as a Latino character in films (In Caliente [1935], The Gay Desperado [1936]) and television (The Cisco Kid [1950-1956]) and often played gangsters and villains (Parachute Jumper [1933], Manhattan Merry-Go-Round [1937]) so it’s fun to see him here, playing fast and loose as this self-made mug with obvious Italian roots. Offscreen, Carrillo was a man of many talents who began his career as a cartoonist at the San Francisco Examiner before turning to the stage and later movies. He was also a dedicated conservationist who served on the California Beach and Parks commission for years and eventually had a park dedicated to him for his service to the state – The Leo Carrillo State Park, off the Pacific Coast Highway, west of Malibu. It’s also interesting to note that in the context of the film IF YOU COULD ONLY COOK, Herbert Marshall’s Buchanan character is depicted as an automobile industry visionary but in real life Carrillo was a genuine connoisseur of cars and his customized version of a 1947 Chrysler Town and Country convertible has been featured in several photograph books. Stander, like Carrillo, was also typecast often, playing cynical, streetwise types with sharklike instincts (The Last Gangster [1937], A Star is Born [1936]). He gets to parody that aspect of himself here and the only times he shows any real joy or love for his work is when he’s either rushing off to shoot or kidnap somebody – all of which is played for laughs. But even if Rossini and Flash are clearly dangerous individuals if crossed, they have their soft spots and, in one of the more touching and sweetly comic scenes in the movie, they bail Joan out of jail for a false theft charge. As they take her home in a taxi, Rossini, who has designs on Joan, can’t resist showing her the goodbye note Jim left her when he returned to his fiancee and scheduled wedding. Heartbroken, Joan breaks down in tears. Instead of feeling vindication for their actions, both Rossini and Flash feel embarrassed by their attempts to expose Buchanan and its effect on Joan, which the camera captures in short, telling closeups. Rossini: “Didn’t you know his racket when you married him?” Joan: “I didn’t marry him.” Rossini: “Well, how’d a nice girl like you get mixed up with a mug like that?” Joan (sobbing): “He isn’t a mug.” Rossini: “How’d he manage to sell you that bill of goods? Why did you fall for him?” Joan mournfully says, “The Depression,” and starts bawling again, while Flash shakes his head disgustedly and mutters, “I’ve heard a lot of things blamed on the Depression.” When IF YOU COULD ONLY COOK was released in England, it was advertised as a Frank Capra production though Capra had no connection to the film at all. It was directed by William A. Seiter (Roberta [1935], Room Service [1938]) but Harry Cohn, the studio head at Columbia, was exploiting Capra’s name erroneously as a way to market it since Capra was a household name after the runaway success of It Happened One Night. When Capra found out about this, he was outraged and filed a lawsuit against Cohn. For the complete details of the entire incident, check our Jeremy Arnold’s TCM article on the film below. http://www.tcm.com:80/tcmdb/title.jsp?stid=78966&category=Articles One good thing did come of the lawsuit. Capra must have seen IF YOU COULD ONLY COOK because he cast Jean Arthur in his next film Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) which Arthur made directly after this. Arthur would continue to shine and steal the spotlight in such subsequent Capra productions as You Can’t Take It With You (1938) and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) but if you’ve never seen her in IF YOU COULD ONLY COOK, you’re in for a treat. The film has aired on Turner Classic Movies in the past but it is also available as one of four titles on Volume 1 of the DVD series Icons of Screwball Comedy from Columbia. Another rarely seen Jean Arthur film is in the collection – TOO MANY HUSBANDS – and you can read a former post on it by Suzi Doll at this location - http://moviemorlocks.com/2008/08/09/too-many-husbands-and-the-code/ 5 Responses If You Could Only Cook
I briefly went over the screwball comedy in my class this semester. I did not know about this one. Sounds interesting, but I am with Moirafinnie on Jean Arthur. I am not a fan but can get passed her in most cases. I tivoed this charmer when TCM was showing films of Jean Arthur’s a couple of months ago. This movie is great, as you said in your post. I think you are also right that Arthur’s performance brought out some more energy in Marshall’s, he’s not too serious in this venture. Another great Jean Arthur comedy that aired near the same time as this movie was The Devil and Miss Jones, co-starring Charles Coburn and Bob Cummings. I loved it’s depiction of the common man/worker, Cummings trying to get a union set up at the department store that Coburn owns. Our oldest son watched it with my husband and I, our son works at a grocery store, and we all howled with laughter at the truths of working in an environment where one is constantly serving the public. I think Jean Arthur is a guy thing. An intelligent passive/aggressive blonde. I can’t believe this is on DVD. I’ll buy the whole 4-title set just to get this. Never heard of the others and don’t expect much. This is prime gold – fool’s gold. I have long been a Jean Arthur fan and had seen enough of Herbert Marshall that this was a complete surprise at well they matched up. Marshall is looser than I had ever seen him and it sheds a new light and makes one wonder why he apparently didn’t do more. Jean, as always, is delightful. Oh, and watch “Too Many Husbands.” Another rare gem from Arthur, Fred MacMurray and Melvyn Douglas. Leave a Reply |
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I was delighted to come across this review which included such affectionate accounts of the charm of too little appreciated actors from this period: Leo Carillo & Herbert Marshall.
I will have to try to see this movie in its entirety someday. I have yet to get past Jean Arthur’s presence here. Yes, I am guilty of under-appreciating this actress’ sometimes elusive charm. I’ll try again now that you have made me more aware of a hidden jewel in the screwball comedy treasure trove.