On being ill, and comforted by classic Hollywood

There was a time when I, whenever ill, wondered if it’s some sort of divine punishment. Now that I’m sick the third time this winter, I see it as a reminder to count my blessings when I’m again in good health. The first time was a bad cold for a week or two in late November or early December, back in London. That led to a sinus infection just before Christmas, when I was in Edinburgh and then in Leeds—half of my upper teeth were in excruciating pain, made even worse by earache and headache—what torture!—I even thought another wisdom tooth was appearing. All that should have built me a strong armour against those invisible devils, but no, I’m now ill again—cold or flu, what’s the difference—and this is my first time in the US. 

But I refuse to be negative: at least the work events in Washington, DC are all done, with flying colours, and now I can indulge in resting my limbs and feeling sorry for myself. 

Anyway, having now got The Criterion Channel, I’ve been discovering and enjoying Claudette Colbert films. On Saturday: It Happened One Night and The Palm Beach Story. On Sunday: Midnight and Cleopatra. Why is she not better known today? I mean, compared to Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly? The first three films are delightful romantic comedies, with witty dialogue and the usual charm of classic Hollywood, proving Claudette Colbert a brilliant comic actress, effortlessly funny and sexy. In What Happened One Night, a spoilt heiress elopes and along the way falls in love with the impoverished reporter who helps her; in The Palm Beach Story, a woman runs away from her noble but non-resourceful husband and tries to catch a rich man to help them both, only to throw away everything as she still loves her impractical husband; in Midnight, a showgirl turns up in Paris and tries to capture a rich man, whilst being romantically pursued by a taxi driver, and in the end realises she wants the poor taxi driver. All these roles are similar and in some way variations of the same kind of character—at least in The Palm Beach Story and Midnight—but Claudette Colbert is always charming, always delightful, not at all stale or repetitive. 

Cleopatra is different. Claudette Colbert’s performance as the sensual, captivating queen of Egypt shows that she can do drama. When I started watching it, I thought it was a disadvantage for the film that my view of Caesar, Cleopatra, Antony… was informed entirely by Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra and those were wonderful plays, but by the end, I was no longer comparing—Cecil B. DeMille’s film stands on its own (even if I wish there were more chemistry between Claudette Colbert and Henry Wilcoxon as Antony), and she is sensual and utterly bewitching. 

If you haven’t seen these films, you should.