Appreciating The Philadelphia Story (1941)

Sharing my appreciation for The Philadelphia Story without really giving much substance.

I want to talk about The Philadelphia Story. 1941, Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, Jimmy Stewart, and either a screwball comedy or romantic comedy, depending on which of the very dedicated and small number of interested film fans happens to speak the loudest when you look the movie up.

I watched it about two years ago because I thought it was a screwball comedy. The wonderful thing about screwballs is that despite their absurdity, they often feel more realistic to life. In a rom-com, a woman spills a drink on a man and they end up exchanging numbers. In a screwball, a woman spills a drink on a man and it escalates to all-out war that may include, but by no means is limited to, witty retorts and slapstick. Couples have arguments instead of meet-cutes, but eventually realize that they’re willing to try the whole love thing out because their arguments are the kind that they can stick together through. Kind of like Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing, except people fall down a lot more. It’s one of my favorite genres.

Looking back, I’m firmly sold on The Philadelphia Story being a romantic comedy, but I don’t mind it being claimed for both categories; it gives a larger group of people the chance to watch it.

I watched The Philadelphia Story before I watched It’s a Wonderful Life, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was reacting similarly to how I assumed people felt when they enjoyed the Christmas classic. I’ve seen both of them now (and boy was the plot of It’s a Wonderful Life different than I expected), but I still think the reaction holds. If It’s a Wonderful Life is for Christmas – something warm amongst the cold – then The Philadelphia Story is for the summer – something surprisingly and refreshingly warm amongst the hot and sticky abyss.

This movie treats the rich and famous American the same way It’s a Wonderful Life treats the average American. It depicts the socialites and tabloid-prone celebrities as human. The film doesn’t excuse the characters’ faults, but it does make a distinction between their faults and the public opinion of such, pinpointing the lack of nuance in the latter. It’s a sincerely sympathetic position. For a film that’s both wartime era and just barely post-Depression, it’s a fascinating position to take. This standpoint is also the reason I believe it is firmly a romantic comedy. A screwball puts absurd people in normal situations – people who turn normal situations into absurd ones by acting unconventionally. In The Philadelphia Story, there is nothing of the sort. There are no absurd people in normal situations; there are simply extraordinarily rich people in the average rich situation, and the average rich situation is absurd enough.

The script is golden. It would be considered the highlight of the film if the cast wasn’t so equally matched. What an incredible feat of words. What a crew that delivers each line to perfection.

There’s Katharine Hepburn, who can say anything and turn it into something worth remembering. “Oh, we’re going to be talking about me, are we?” She asks. “Goody.” And there’s nothing in the line except cadence, but the way she brings herself into each line, making it impossible to ignore the personality that has just thrown the words through the screen, keeps you riveted. Katharine had been labeled box-office poison after starring in a string of flops (that today are much better appreciated). This film, originally a play, had been written with the goal of redeeming her reputation. The movie was a 1941 hit.

“Is that all?” She asks, and the line itself could have been heard dozens of times by other lips, but the lines are now indisputably hers.

Then there’s Cary Grant. “Never a blow that won’t be softened for her,” he explains, watching his ex-wife’s disdain for him equal his disdain for her style of living. “Not too much, you know, just more than enough.” Cary insisted on top billing for the film, along with a salary of $137,000 (over 3 million today), but he did so because there was a war on. He donated all his earnings to the British Relief War Society, an action he repeated on at least one other WWII-era movie. The Philadelphia Story was American, but he was from Bristol. He tried not to let it get to his reputation. The idea of Cary Grant - the ideal American leading man - was difficult to maintain. The Oscars never truly recognized his talent for acting, but it recognized his ability to be Cary Grant, and the award was well deserved.¹

Two gloriously Transatlantic accents and one proudly Northeastern variation to top it all off.

And Jimmy Stewart. Wonderful Jimmy Stewart, who knows just enough of the right amount of humor to give each scene. Jimmy Stewart who isn’t afraid to sing and shout and be as earnest as one can be on screen. “Are you still in love with her?” he asks, and then he settles and adds, “or perhaps you’d consider that a very personal question.” And Cary says, “Not at all,” because he does, in fact love her, but Jimmy doesn’t realize he’s answering the second question and he shouts, “Liz thinks you are! Liz thinks you are.” And Cary is honest, and Jimmy has pinned him. Neither of them fully realize what they’ve done until “Here Comes the Bride” is playing the next morning without anyone to fill the aisle.

I don’t want to get into the relationships because you either know the film or you don’t; if you haven’t seen the film, I’m not going to spoil it, and if you have, there’s little need to reiterate. There’s one scene in particular between Katharine and her on-screen father that ruins the message of the film; if the scene hadn’t happened, the other thematic problems would be, well, less of a problem. But the nice thing about a film is that to an extent you can appreciate it without agreeing to it, and it’s easier to carry that sentiment when the film is older. Rail at it, cry at it, but appreciate it. Please.

I don’t think I sold this very well, but I did say I wasn’t going to write much of substance.

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1. In 1970, the Oscars presented Cary Grant with an Honorary Academy Award (he had retired from acting in 1966). He had previously been nominated twice for best actor for non-comedic roles but lost. He was also the only lead of the three NOT nominated for The Philadelphia Story.