I mean, Cary Grant never rang my chimes either (I guess I'm just not wired that way), but you take the sixty- and seventysomething Kate Hepburn over the insolent, magnificent-jawed creature of The Philadelphia Story? And, sweet Jesus, you are impervious to the charm of the Hepburn at the other end of the war-of-the-sexes spectrum, female division, the exquisite Audrey? What color is the sky (blue bars and white stars on a red field apart) on your planet?
[I'd made it to about 34 or 35 without ever seeing The Philadelphia Story. I used to have a tiny TV (13 inches? eleven?), at that time my only appliance of that nature, parked on the kitchen table. Then newly-divorced, I was preparing a solitary evening meal, and switched on the tube for distraction. As it came to, we were about five minutes into what proved to be The Philadelphia Story. Cool! I watched for about half an hour until the local station broke in with a voice-over apology for the misunderstanding--apparently the advertised feature was The Philadelphia Experiment, a preposterous low-budget sci-fi yarn--and switched to the scheduled movie, advanced to the 40-minute mark. I think it was 2000 or 2001 before I finally cancelled out that episode of cinema interruptus by renting the 1939 production.]
No accounting for tastes...
(shrugging),