Born Yesterday
1950
If you learn nothing else from this movie, learn these two things. One: Judy Holliday was a comedic genius who should be worshiped on a regular basis just for what she could do while she was humming. And Two: if William Holden gave us all personal civic lessons, voter participation in this country would be at one hundred percent.
This is a movie about America and politics and corruption and toxic masculinity and entitlement and bullying, and also about overcoming all of the bad stuff because you realize you deserve the good stuff. Like information and education and the god-given right to wear glasses if you need them. This is a movie about redemption.
Judy Holliday plays Billie Dawn, a former chorus girl who is now employed as the long-suffering girlfriend of the horrible Harry Brock (Broderick Crawford), a guy who made a fortune in junk and now wants to buy a few politicians so he can get even more of whatever he wants.
Brock, Billie, and their entourage are first seen checking into a plush Washington D.C. hotel. Billie casually throws a pile of furs at the bellboy. She has more. These are vulgar people, with Brock an obnoxious blowhard who constantly tells anyone who’ll listen how much everything costs.
Once they’re in their hotel suite Brock’s lawyer shows up (played by Howard St. John, who communicates in every gesture that he knows he’s sold his soul.) He warns Brock that a journalist is coming up to interview him. An intellectual. Someone who could be trouble. The lawyer’s advice? “Take him in, then he doesn’t go poking.” Because Brock has a lot of shady things to hide, and of course the journalist, like everyone, will have a price.
Not so! Because the journalist in question, Paul Verrall, is played by the eternally stalwart William Holden, looking bookish and sexy in a tweed sports coat and glasses. (Why William Holden isn’t on every advertisement for glasses in existence is a mystery to me.) Paul is smart and he’s dreamy, and the instant he meets Billie we see that he is also kind.
About that meeting. Brock bellows for Billie to join the men and she enters wearing a floaty dressing gown with a shy smile and does a little almost-curtsy thing that tells you that this dumb blonde is also sweet and a bit self-conscious and just plain endearing. And then she opens her mouth. All of Brooklyn is in her voice, and the loud raspy grating of it in contrast to her wide-eyed bombshell looks is everything.
It’s here that Brock reveals himself. He yells at Billie in front of everyone. “Do what I’m tellin’ ya!” (This is something he yells a lot.) Humiliated, Billie leaves with exaggerated dignity. The lawyer says something and Brock literally pushes him around. Paul the journalist observes it all. He’s seen bullies before.
Because all movies need a plot, Brock hires Paul to give Billie a little educational polish. He’s afraid she’ll embarrass him in his meetings with crooked politicians and their judgy wives. Ever look in a mirror, Brock? No? Okay, moving on.
Now we have a chance for Paul to teach Billie (and us) everything that’s wonderful and unique and problematic and inspiring about America. Not that she’s really up for it, at first. She’s happy being dumb. She has everything she wants. “As long as I know how to get what I want, I’m happy.” Sure, Paul agrees. “As long as you know what you want.” Got it. She’s not going to be happy with mink coats much longer.
Paul takes her to monuments, he answers her questions, they talk and talk and talk and eventually her questions aren’t that dumb anymore. He gives her books, and more importantly, he gives her glasses. And when she starts to see what’s going on things gets really, really good.
Speaking of really, really, good, I can’t say enough about what Holliday does with this role. She goes from dumb blonde punching bag to righteously defiant heroine without missing one single beat along the way. There is so much detail in her performance, from the way she hums to herself while playing solitaire to the actual sparks we see lighting in her as she realizes, to her own amazement, that she’s got the smarts and the power and the right to see Brock for what he is and take him down.
“Hey, you think we can find somebody to make her dumb again?” Brock eventually asks. But no. That’s the thing about a little learning. Once you understand the world you’re actually living in there’s no going back.
There’s No Describing Comedy
If you’ve never seen what Judy Holliday could do with physical comedy, I can’t explain it to you. It’s just brilliant, but you have to see it yourself. For a master class, I encourage you to search online for the gin rummy scene from Born Yesterday. I could tell you how she puts out her cigarette, adjusts her jewelry, arranges and re-arranges her cards, and does a dozen other little things, but you really owe it to yourself to see it. Please!
Judy, Judy, Judy
Judy was also a singer. If you haven’t seen Bells Are Ringing you have such a treat in store. Why am I even talking about Born Yesterday when Bells Are Ringing is out there? In any case, she sings—both with and without Dean Martin. She even released an album of torch songs, titled Trouble is a Man. The next time you’re up at three in the morning killing a bottle of wine and wondering how you can have been such a fool for some guy (or is that just me?) just throw on “I Got Lost in His Arms” and know you’re not alone.
