Last week, to commemorate the 100^th birth anniversary of Raj Kapoor, I reviewed my favourite film of his as an actor: Chori Chori, which was a remake (uncredited) of It Happened One Night. I had seen Chori Chori before; I had also seen It Happened One Night before, though in both cases, I had not reviewed the film in question.

Since I’ve finally reviewed Chori Chori, it seemed to me about time I reviewed It Happened One Night as well (which is why there’s also a comparison with Chori Chori further along in this post). Directed and co-produced by Frank Capra, this film was based on a short story, Night Bus, by Samuel Hopkins Adams. It is generally regarded as the first ever screwball comedy, having pretty much invented the genre; it was also the first of only three films so far to have won all five major Oscars: Best Picture, Best Actress, Best Actor, Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay.

But, to start at the beginning: on a private yacht moored off the coast at Miami, where Ellen ‘Ellie’ Andrews (Claudette Colbert) has been confined by her banker father (Walter Connolly). Mr Andrews disapproves, unreservedly, of Ellie’s having gotten married to a man named King Westley (Jameson Thomas), whom he (Mr Andrews) is convinced is a rotter: only interested in Ellie’s wealth, nothing else.  

Ellie, on the other hand, is convinced of Westley’s love for her, and is dead set on travelling to New York to be with him. Mr Andrews threatens to have the marriage annulled; Ellie loses her temper and, having upturned her father’s lunch table long enough to disconcert him, manages to escape. She jumps overboard and swims ashore.

Soon enough, Ellie has bought herself a ticket for the night bus from Miami to New York. On the bus, she has a run-in with a journalist named Peter Warne (Clark Gable). Warne is fresh from another run-in, with his editor in New York, and has also had an altercation with the bus driver: he’s not in a good mood, and to find Ellie sitting happily in the seat Warne has earmarked for himself (and fought for) is the last straw.

Warne soon realizes just how pampered, cosseted, and overly protected Ellie is: she has no idea how anything is done in the real world. How much things cost, how far the few dollars she’s got will go—even something as basic as having to queue up for something. Pretty much right in front of her eyes, her bag is stolen. Warne, who has witnessed this theft and tries to (unsuccessfully) catch the thief suggests they call the cops, but Ellie is vehement in her refusal (she realizes, of course, that her father will have probably informed the police about her escape, and they will be on the lookout for her).

Mr Andrews, though, has not informed the police. Instead, he has hired private detectives to try and find his fugitive daughter.

Ellie knows nothing of this and is going on her own clueless way, on the night bus. She is so clueless, in fact, that when the bus stops for half an hour along the way to allow passengers a meal and a break, Ellie happily tells the bus driver to wait for her, while she goes off to a big hotel in town.

When she returns—half an hour after the bus has gone, right on time—she is shocked to discover that the driver actually did not pay heed to her instructions to wait for her.

Warne has not gone on the bus, and is sitting at the bus station. He now gives Ellie some disconcerting news: he knows who she is. It’s there in the newspaper. He shows her: the headlines are all about Mr Andrews’s runaway daughter. Warne has a proposition: he will help Ellie get to New York and to King Westley, in return for this story. What a scoop it’ll be, the runaway heiress travelling cross-country in defiance of her father to be united with her husband.

Ellie, by now, has very little money left (she spent most of it, in an ill-advised move, at the hotel). Also, of course, she is woefully inept at this business of roughing it out. She could definitely do with some help. So Ellie agrees, and the two of them set off on a grand adventure which will end up being something neither Warne nor Ellie could have imagined when they first climbed on to the night bus to New York.

What I liked about this film:

The entire package. It’s witty, it’s light-hearted, and the two leads are fabulous.

But, to break it down further. Firstly, Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable, who’re superb. They’re very natural, their timing is perfect, and the chemistry is spot on. One can see why these two got awards for their portrayals of Ellie and Warne: they make this mismatched couple very believable indeed. (Interestingly, the only kisses in the film are between Ellie and King, not Ellie and Warne—and yet it’s obvious whom Ellie really loves: even without the lip-lock, the sizzle is there).

Then, the screenplay (Robert Riskin) and direction (Frank Capra): brilliant. It’s snappy, it’s fun, it’s fast-paced, and it’s very well thought-out, each dialogue and each scene helping to cement the bond forming between Ellie and Warne, and/or helping explain their characters a little better—even when, superficially at least, it seems like just another amusing scene.

In this context, I found it admirable that though Ellie initially comes across as a somewhat self-centred and spoilt ‘brat’ (which is what Warne dubs her), there is more to her. For one, she is kind and warm-hearted, and actually not the snooty sort one would have expected the stereotypical rich girl to be. Look at the way she interacts with the women in the line for the showers, for example; or the way she looks after the fainting woman in the bus, and then her weeping son. Ellie may be rich, but she does not put on airs.

Then, one also begins to see glimpses of the loneliness Ellie might feel, imprisoned in the golden cage she has lived in all her life. It has left her unaware of how the outside world lives, and now, as she sees life beyond her own limited view, you can see how Ellie begins to enjoy all this, everything new and interesting. The gusto with which she joins in when everybody in the bus sings along to The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze; or the joy with which she practises doughnut-dunking after Warne teaches her. This is a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, opening up in the sunlight.

Comparisons, comparisons:

Since I’ve recently re-watched Chori Chori, it makes sense to put in a few words about how these two films compare.

… and yes, Chori Chori is a very good, fairly faithful, remake of It Happened One Night. In spirit, almost an exact copy, though there are some differences. The characters, barring Warne/Sagar and Ellie/Kammo, aren’t exactly the same; for instance, Johnny Walker’s poet is not quite the Oscar Shapeley (Roscoe Karns), though both are nuisances who cotton onto Ellie’s identity. The Bhagwan character and his wife are missing in the original Hollywood film, but the vehicle that the hero manages to get hold of comes from another source—which isn’t there in Chori Chori.

However, the broad strokes of the story, the main elements, the way the ‘Walls of Jericho’ are put up every time the two share a room—remain mostly the same in both films.

What I did find interesting was the way Agha Jani Kashmiri scripted Chori Chori, to account for what might appeal to an Indian audience. Indians, at least back in the 1950s, would not have accepted a heroine already married to another man, even if it’s obvious that the marriage is only on paper and can be annulled. No; Kammo is only in love with Sumant, not married to him.

Then, also, there is obvious and clear reason for Sumant/King Westley to be labelled a ‘pill’ (as Warne calls him at one point). In It Happened One Night, we only have his reputation to go by; Ellie’s father and Warne both talk of him being a bad sort. But in Chori Chori that isn’t enough: we are shown what a lousy character Sumant is. He has a frank chat with a friend, where he discusses the wealthy women he’s ‘conquered’ so far, and whom he now has in mind (a dancer he’s been watching with greedy eyes).

There is, too, that bit about the hero and heroine sharing a room. In Chori Chori they’re forced to share a room because the owner of the accommodation refuses to give rooms to any but married couples. In It Happened One Night, the room is shared for reasons of economy: Warne cannot afford two rooms. This suggests that it wouldn’t have raised too many eyebrows if they had indeed shared one room despite being able to afford two. Of course, the entire ‘Walls of Jericho’ thing reinforces the idea that two unmarried people co-habiting isn’t fine.

In the 90 years since It Happened One Night, it has been remade many times, sometimes (Chori Chori is a case in point; so is Dil Hai Ki Manta Nahin) fairly faithfully, at other times (Basant, 1960) as a rather more distant inspiration. Two especially iconic elements from the film have been carried forward into umpteen other films: one, the Walls of Jericho; and the other the scene where Claudette Colbert lifts her skirt to show off her leg to hitch a ride.

This is a cult classic, no two ways about it. If you haven’t watched this one yet, do.