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Three stars at the top of their game in the classic comedy The Philadelphia Story |
The Philadelphia Story is perhaps the best example of
the Code-approved genre, the “remarriage comedy” (because the code wouldn’t
countenance the idea of a couple cheating). Daughter of a rich Philadelphia
family, Tracy Lord (Katharine Hepburn) is to marry her dull fiancée George
Kittredge (John Howard). George’s main attraction is he’s the complete opposite
of her charismatic ex-husband C.K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant). Dexter crashes
the build-up to the wedding, bringing along reluctant society journalist (he’s
really a renowned short-story writer) Mike Connor (James Stewart) and press photographer
Elizabeth (Ruth Hussey), promising to introduce them as distant friends of the
family so they can report on the wedding. But then Tracy finds herself drawn to
Dexter and Mike and George as well – who will she end-up walking
down the aisle with?
Perhaps the best thing about The Philadelphia Story
is that you really don’t know who it will be – and the film successfully
keeps the question both up-in-the-air and deeply entertaining. There even seems
a chance (unlikely as it is) that Tracy really will stick with George (a tedious
nouveau riche businessman with priggish middle-class morals who can’t
even mount a house – imagine!). Directed with the sort of unfussy smoothness Cukor
excelled in – and helped get the best out of actors – it’s a superb comic
treat, with a sparkling adaptation by Donald Ogden Stewart.
At the heart of it, Hepburn is superb in a role that riffs
considerably off her own public personality. Hepburn was smart enough to know most
audiences saw her as far too clever by half. Her sharpness, acidity and no-nonsense
unwillingness to suffer fools had made her hard to relate to. Quite correctly,
she felt she needed a role where she could “fall flat on her face”. Which , by
the way, is more or less the first thing she does – a hilarious prat fall while
throwing Cary Grant’s Dexter out, him responding to her snapping his golf clubs
by gently putting his hand on her face and pushing her off-balance (only Grant
could have got away with that by the way).
Tracy Lord is a version of the Hepburn many people
felt they knew. Tracy genuinely believes she’s smarter and better than anyone
else, with unquestionable judgment and superior morals. The film is a gentle
exercise in pricking her balloon, showing her she is as prone to mistakes,
prejudice and, above all, getting giddy and silly in love, as anyone else. This
is a fiercely practical woman, who sets high standards for those around her, suddenly
finding herself falling in love with three men at once. It’s the exact flighty
lack of commitment she spent years condemning her estranged father for.
This is all scintillatingly played by Hepburn, at her
absolute best. The rat-a-tat dialogue (with its classic, Wildean comedy of
errors and mis-identification) is under her complete control. She’s delightful
when, under the influence, she flirts with Mike – Hepburn showing the world
(clearly they missed it in Bringing Up Baby) that she could be as silly and
vulnerable as the next girl. Hepburn knew people wanted to see her personae
deconstructed, and for her character to learn that (in the words of another
comedy) nobody’s perfect. It works a treat – and this remained one of her
greatest (and funniest) performances.
It helps she had two of the greatest to riff off. Cary Grant
is at his light-comedic best here, turning Dexter – a manipulative reformed
alcoholic it would be easy to dislike – into the embodiment of sophistication,
charm and playful wit, who we adore as much Tracy’s family does. James Stewart
won an Oscar and matches Grant gag-for-gag in a comedic masterclass. He’s a
master of hilarious comedic and physical reactions – and lovable enough to turn
a chippy newspaperman into a sort of hilariously droll sage. His ‘drunk’ acting
is also some of the funniest you’ll see on film (even Grant can be spotted
cracking up just a little as Stewart hiccups his way through a scene).
Hepburn’s chemistry with both actors is sublime. Her
romancing scenes – both the worst for wear for drink, but also empowered to say
things they’ve clearly been burying all day – with Stewart are not hugely
romantic, but also rather sexy (Cukor’s direction here is also exquisitely
spot-on). It’s a masterclass in on-screen flirtation – and you can see why
George gets as pissed off as he is. Hepburn and Grant meanwhile bicker and
taunt each other with all the chemistry of a match and a fire.
Each scene has a bounce that teeters between heart-felt and
farcical. The set-ups are frequently silly – but they work because they hinge on
characters that feel immensely real. Every performer is spot on – credit also
goes to a superb Ruth Hussey, one of the few grown-ups in this weekend of
flirting, feuding children. Set in a sumptuously rich Philadelphian mansion, for
all of Mike’s chippy criticism it’s a celebration of the smooth upper classes
over hard-working, dull prigs like George. Its sole fault might be it’s too
long (at just under 2 hours, a few scenes and set-ups outstay their welcome).
But, as a classic Hollywood comedy, it’s pretty much the top of the class. Box-office
poison no more.
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