Archie, on BritBox

All Cary Grant fans know he was born Archibald Leach, because they remember he dropped his real name as a one-liner in His Girl Friday. He reinvented himself as Cary Grant, but there was always some Leach in there, deep down. Not surprisingly, his early years of poverty and family strife inevitably shaped his later behavior, definitely including his relationship with fourth wife Dyan Cannon. Creator-writer Jeff Pope largely draws from Cannon’s memoir to tell Grant’s story in the four-part Archie, which premieres Thursday on BritBox.

The only thing that could have made Leach’s childhood more Dickensian would have been a stint in the work-house. His older brother was clearly his mother Elsie’s favorite, so his untimely death partially broke her. Nonetheless, young Archibald craved her approval, whereas his lowlife father Elias was incapable of being a loving parent. After consigning his mother to a mental institution, Elias told Archie he was dead and then pawned the young lad off on a relative.

As a result, Leach had to make it on his own, which he did as film star Cary Grant. After his early success and short-lived marriage to former silent movie star Virginia Cherril, Pope and series director Paul Andrew Williams fast-forward past two marriages and several dozen classic movies (including The Bishop’s Wife and To Catch a Thief). Suddenly, in the early 1960s, Grant is feeling at loose ends. His films are as popular as ever, but Sophia Loren will not return his calls, so he shifts his focus to up-and-coming actress Dyan Cannon.

Laura Aikman is a good likeness for Cannon and she has her signature laugh down cold. It is pretty clear Cannon was involved in the series as an executive producer and the author of its primary source material, because Archie is definitely sympathetic to her perspective. However, it is not wholly unsympathetic to Grant’s either, but he is far more complicated.

Throughout Archie, it is very clear what a number his awful parents did to him. Whenever the mature Grant acts manipulative or cruel, the series flashes back to show what was done unto him. Harriet Walter is particularly effective in this regard, as Grant’s demanding elderly mother, who gives back precious little in return. Dainton Anderson, Oaklee Pendergast, and Calam Lynch are all quite earnest as the various young Leaches, but Jason Isaac is an eerie dead-ringer for the silver-haired Grant. He also nails Grant’s unique Transatlantic accent. Frankly, the casting of two leads is remarkable. Plus, Ian McNeice is appropriately jolly and jowly as Alfred Hitchcock.

Although much of drama that marks their relationship is familiar Hollywood aging male star-young starlet stuff, Isaacs and Aikman truly have screen chemistry together. Viewers can believe they cannot help getting together, even though they both probably know it will be a mistake.

Becoming Cary Grant (While Partly Still Staying Archie Leach)

Alfred Hitchcock had a special affinity for his favorite leading man, because they were both working class Brits who completely reinvented themselves in Hollywood. However, there was more than mere poverty and want in the background of the man born Archibald Leach in hardscrabble Bristol. Mark Kidel delves into the iconic actor’s psyche in the psycho-documentary, Becoming Cary Grant (trailer here), which premieres this Friday on Showtime.

Grant did care for giving interviews, but he did leave behind fragment of an unfinished memoir, offering a rich vein of material for Kidel to mine (and read with pitch perfect diction by Jonathan Pryce). One aspect of his life Grant was uncharacteristically forthright about (at least on unpublished paper) is the extensive LSD treatment he underwent. Yes, that is correct. Cary Grant dropped acid—100 times—under the supervision of a licensed psychiatrist.

Perhaps most surprisingly, Grant believed it worked. As it turns out, he had deeply rooted issues with women and abandonment, stemming from the disappearance of his mother at a tender age. His father led the young lad to believe his mother had absconded, but he had really committed her to a mental institution, with shockingly flimsy justification. Grant would not learn the truth until he had firmly established himself in Hollywood.

It is easy to see how such developments could lead to long-term baggage. Frankly, the LSD references are just the sizzle of Becoming. The psycho-sexual issues caused by the presumed betrayal of Grant’s mother and the Sophoclean angst resulting from the revelation of the truth are the real drivers of the film.

Aside from some analysis of Grant’s special relationship with Hitchcock, Kidel spends disappointingly little time on Grant’s actual films. Anyone hoping for deconstructive reading of Operation Petticoat will have to look elsewhere. Kidel also only raises more questions (and eyebrows) when the film makes a passing off-hand reference about the fluidity of Grant’s sexuality, especially when Gillian Armstrong’s Orry-Kelly doc Women He’s Undressed explicitly claims Grant carried on a long-term romantic relationship with Randolph Scott.

Still, Kidel manages to get inside Grant’s head without ruining his one of a kind mystique. Grant’s final film was released in 1966, but he still feels like a much more vital cultural presence than many of his contemporaries who continued working through the 1980s and 1990s. Of course, it helps when you make undisputed classics like North by Northwest, Charade, To Catch a Thief, Notorious, The Bishop’s Wife, and His Girl Friday. Kidel and company also convincingly argue Grant really could act, despite the sense of effortlessness he projected.

Fans can rest assured the movie star’s movie star emerges from Becoming unscathed. In fact, Kidel manages to humanize the giant without cutting him down to human size. Recommended for classic cinema fans and armchair head-shrinkers, Becoming Cary Grant airs this Friday (6/9) on Showtime.