George Cukor's "The Philadelphia Story" was released in 1940 and starred the ultimate Hollywood trinity: Katharine Hepburn, James Stewart and Cary Grant. Being a romantic comedy, we suspect she will end up with one of these two. And since she's about to marry a boring guy named George, we quickly understand that she will not marry him, and that the whole story will consist on leading us to that conclusion in two hours, two endlessly and unstoppably long hours.
I hate to use the word 'overrated' and 'overacted' so I guess the wrong mindset would be an inevitable obstacle between this movie and me. Being the average schmuck I am, I couldn't relate to Katharine Hepburn as Tracy Lord, a young and wealthy socialite praised, adored, worshiped by the other schmucks of her community. For my biggest displeasure, I couldn't even relate to James Stewart because as much as I loved his roles in Capra films, I didn't find any invitation for empathy in his character as Macaulay Connor, the wannabe writer and tabloid journalist for a magazine fittingly named 'Spy".
I could care about Cary Grant as C.K. (as in 'CocKy) Dexter Morgan, the ex-husband, if only for the hilarious way he palms Tracy's face and pushes her down to the floor. But isn't it a bad omen when the film's most memorable instant happens within the first minute. But despite the brilliance of the gesture and the male charisma he naturally exuded, in that particular film, he seemed rather lifeless to me, bored by the whole gossipy environment (I can't blame him) and only there to recite his lines, to create a false impression of chemistry with Tracy. I couldn't stand his constant grin, but not as much as Hepburn's trademark 'Bryn Mawr" accent (thanks IMDb) that got quickly on my nerves, this 'yawr', 'dahling' or this expression as if she wanted us to check if she had salad stuck in her teeth.
But don't take my iconoclasm very seriously, I'm an unexceptional reviewer. In fact, I'm so mediocre, compared to these icons I dare to criticize that I even rooted for John Howard's character as George Kettridge, the target of a whole conspiracy from the director, the writer and the actors. They spared no efforts to mock and belittle George, he was a hypocrite, an ambitious man, but I have to see it to believe it, after all, neither Grant or Connor had better intentions and George seemed a rather decent man. Anyway, they were all so mean-spirited than my immediate reaction was to take his side. At least, in usual screwball comedies, it's one rival against another; here the guy has no chance standing against the two men and his own fiancé plotting against him.
And watching the beautiful Tracy Lord swinging back and forth from Connor to Morgan like a tennis ball was embarrassing, not to mention the ludicrous ending. "Marry me, Tracy", she's reluctant because it wouldn't please his girlfriend photographer Liz (Ruth Hussey). Naturally, Liz doesn't mind being used as a Plan B, nor does Tracy to get back to her precedent husband. Damn, I'm almost glad Georgie got himself out of this mess. The film had its moments though, I liked the part where Stewart pretended to be drunk and you could see at one moment that both him and Grant were trying not to laugh, that was my favorite moment of the film: it was genuine, charming and innocent and it allowed us to forget about the intricacy of the plot.
Speaking of that 'drunk' scene, I'm not sure either that Stewart deserved the Oscar, I know it was a compensation for his loss in 1939, but seriously was he better than Henry Fonda in "Grapes of Wrath", or even as a comedic performance, was he better than Charlie Chaplin in "The Great Dictator"? I could concede anything to the movie, maybe if I watched it a third or fourth time, I will end up believing it's a masterpiece, but I don't think I would praise Stewart's performance, I didn't even think it was worthy of a nomination. The writing also won an Oscar, but then again, it's adapted from a play, it has the kind of prefabricated wit that was overexploited in screwball classics, but for some reason, I don't think these kinds of artificial exchange fit the silver screen.
Maybe it's the whole vaudeville thing, but I grew rapidly tired of these dialogs where you get the feeling that each character is trying to outsmart the other, and naturally, George is the biggest target, he receives them and seems incapable to say one word or two to Grant or Stewart. From funny, it gets incredibly redundant and ruins the poignancy or the intelligent lucidity some scenes genuinely provides. Granted it's not meant to be realistic, and people have to be entertained, but at one point, it's just words, words, words, or like would say Hepburn "wohds, wohds, wohds". And I guess I've seen enough classics not to feel guilty about this one.
And please, don't get me started on the so-called feminist undertones just because Hepburn plays a very strong and outspoken character. If one thing, the film proves (and quite realistically) that a woman can be as strong, as bossy, as a bully as a man IF she's rich. It attacks the core of feminism, which is the perpetual antagonism between men and women by showing that it's only a matter of rich vs. poor. It's funny how the film works better as a social commentary, and it's only by realizing that she wouldn't live with a man who'd prevent her from freedom by letting her drink and loosen up, that Tracy goes with the rich guy, of course, only rich can afford to be decadent.
"There goes George", sings Grant to ridicule him, just ignore them, George, you're the unsung hero of "The Philadelphia Story"
I hate to use the word 'overrated' and 'overacted' so I guess the wrong mindset would be an inevitable obstacle between this movie and me. Being the average schmuck I am, I couldn't relate to Katharine Hepburn as Tracy Lord, a young and wealthy socialite praised, adored, worshiped by the other schmucks of her community. For my biggest displeasure, I couldn't even relate to James Stewart because as much as I loved his roles in Capra films, I didn't find any invitation for empathy in his character as Macaulay Connor, the wannabe writer and tabloid journalist for a magazine fittingly named 'Spy".
I could care about Cary Grant as C.K. (as in 'CocKy) Dexter Morgan, the ex-husband, if only for the hilarious way he palms Tracy's face and pushes her down to the floor. But isn't it a bad omen when the film's most memorable instant happens within the first minute. But despite the brilliance of the gesture and the male charisma he naturally exuded, in that particular film, he seemed rather lifeless to me, bored by the whole gossipy environment (I can't blame him) and only there to recite his lines, to create a false impression of chemistry with Tracy. I couldn't stand his constant grin, but not as much as Hepburn's trademark 'Bryn Mawr" accent (thanks IMDb) that got quickly on my nerves, this 'yawr', 'dahling' or this expression as if she wanted us to check if she had salad stuck in her teeth.
But don't take my iconoclasm very seriously, I'm an unexceptional reviewer. In fact, I'm so mediocre, compared to these icons I dare to criticize that I even rooted for John Howard's character as George Kettridge, the target of a whole conspiracy from the director, the writer and the actors. They spared no efforts to mock and belittle George, he was a hypocrite, an ambitious man, but I have to see it to believe it, after all, neither Grant or Connor had better intentions and George seemed a rather decent man. Anyway, they were all so mean-spirited than my immediate reaction was to take his side. At least, in usual screwball comedies, it's one rival against another; here the guy has no chance standing against the two men and his own fiancé plotting against him.
And watching the beautiful Tracy Lord swinging back and forth from Connor to Morgan like a tennis ball was embarrassing, not to mention the ludicrous ending. "Marry me, Tracy", she's reluctant because it wouldn't please his girlfriend photographer Liz (Ruth Hussey). Naturally, Liz doesn't mind being used as a Plan B, nor does Tracy to get back to her precedent husband. Damn, I'm almost glad Georgie got himself out of this mess. The film had its moments though, I liked the part where Stewart pretended to be drunk and you could see at one moment that both him and Grant were trying not to laugh, that was my favorite moment of the film: it was genuine, charming and innocent and it allowed us to forget about the intricacy of the plot.
Speaking of that 'drunk' scene, I'm not sure either that Stewart deserved the Oscar, I know it was a compensation for his loss in 1939, but seriously was he better than Henry Fonda in "Grapes of Wrath", or even as a comedic performance, was he better than Charlie Chaplin in "The Great Dictator"? I could concede anything to the movie, maybe if I watched it a third or fourth time, I will end up believing it's a masterpiece, but I don't think I would praise Stewart's performance, I didn't even think it was worthy of a nomination. The writing also won an Oscar, but then again, it's adapted from a play, it has the kind of prefabricated wit that was overexploited in screwball classics, but for some reason, I don't think these kinds of artificial exchange fit the silver screen.
Maybe it's the whole vaudeville thing, but I grew rapidly tired of these dialogs where you get the feeling that each character is trying to outsmart the other, and naturally, George is the biggest target, he receives them and seems incapable to say one word or two to Grant or Stewart. From funny, it gets incredibly redundant and ruins the poignancy or the intelligent lucidity some scenes genuinely provides. Granted it's not meant to be realistic, and people have to be entertained, but at one point, it's just words, words, words, or like would say Hepburn "wohds, wohds, wohds". And I guess I've seen enough classics not to feel guilty about this one.
And please, don't get me started on the so-called feminist undertones just because Hepburn plays a very strong and outspoken character. If one thing, the film proves (and quite realistically) that a woman can be as strong, as bossy, as a bully as a man IF she's rich. It attacks the core of feminism, which is the perpetual antagonism between men and women by showing that it's only a matter of rich vs. poor. It's funny how the film works better as a social commentary, and it's only by realizing that she wouldn't live with a man who'd prevent her from freedom by letting her drink and loosen up, that Tracy goes with the rich guy, of course, only rich can afford to be decadent.
"There goes George", sings Grant to ridicule him, just ignore them, George, you're the unsung hero of "The Philadelphia Story"