Something about seeing the svelte and dapper Cary Grant in dishabille and with fuzzy sleeves—apparently undiminished in all his glory by this exercise in the emasculating of his figure—creates a brand of giggly awe that might be peculiar to this glorious era of the classic screwball comedy, of which Bringing Up Baby is undoubtedly one. There is awe because Cary Grant stays in unflagging character even in this getup, and giggling because it is quite a getup. And it is not as though it diminishes his vigorous dapperness—on the contrary, he doesn’t look half-bad if viewed aesthetically (and maybe from a distance). Bringing Up Baby has all the hallmarks of…