Charade

This week I watched Charade, from 1963.

This is a rom-com-dram.  The rom is from Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn falling in love while trying to find Audrey's character's late husband's missing fortune. (I'd refer to them by their character names, but Cary's character lies repeatedly about his identity, so his name changes about every twenty minutes, each time Audrey's character catches him in a lie.)  The com is from Cary's arrogant dry wit, and Audrey's sassy dry wit, both of which are immensely appealing:

Peter Joshua: Why do you think Tex did it? 
Reggie Lampert: Because I really suspect Gideon and it's always the person you don't suspect. 
Peter Joshua: Do women find it feminine to be so illogical, or can't they help it? 


Reggie Lampert: You're blocking my view.
Peter Joshua: Ohh... which view would you prefer?
Reggie Lampert: The one you're blocking. 


The dram is because people keep dying, and the viewer (and Hepburn's character) aren't sure who to trust.  


The story is fantastic, the dialogue witty, the characters interesting; it's one of my favorite movies of all time.  Plus, you can't beat Cary Grant for handsome leading man:

Somebody get me a cold compress.

And there is no one more beautiful and elegant than Audrey Hepburn:

Hello, bright eyes.

Sigh. Remember when life was simple and women wore scarves over their hair and men dressed in suits every day and we had to figure out where Charles hid a quarter of a million dollars before a group of thieves killed us?  Those were the days.