The Philadelphia Story
- nmojtahed
- May 24
- 4 min read
Updated: May 25
In the wake of two commercially lackluster comedies made by prominent directors Howard Hawks and George Cukor, Katharine Hepburn sought out a project to revive her Hollywood career. At the same time, Philip Barry, the class-conscious playwright whose play, Holiday, had been adapted into one of those failed movies, was facing his own career slump. In Holiday, he had courageously developed erudite characters who defy the established conventions of high society. The play was an instant success, running an entire year on Broadway and then having sold-out performances throughout the country.
The main theme was to unveil the conceited nature of the American elite by demonstrating Tracy’s interactions with a journalist whose strict commitment
to middle-class values made him biased against high society.
However, for some reason, when the story made the leap to film, the audience did not follow. In a bid to restore his standing, he wrote The Philadelphia Story, wherein the central female character, Tracy Lord, was specifically tailored for Katharine Hepburn—Barry even threw in more than a few similarities to Hepburn’s actual personality.
The primary motive behind Cukor’s 1940 film was to unveil the conceited nature of the American elite by demonstrating Tracy’s interactions with a journalist whose strict commitment to middle-class values has made him biased against high society.
Cukor begins the movie with a silent scene played
by two of the fastest-talking stars of the period.
From the very beginning, Cukor works to break down the conventions of romantic comedy. He starts the movie with a silent scene that was not in Barry’s original play, in which Tracy throws C. K. Dexter (Cary Grant), her husband at the time, out of the house and, in a move meant to insult his masculinity, breaks one of his golf clubs. In return, the irritated, unseated husband violates the codes of his class and resorts to physical force, pushing her in the face. The embarrassed Tracy falls back into the house, her perceived domain, the place where she wants to break away and establish her desired independence. Apart from the creative idea of beginning the film with a silent scene involving Grant and Hepburn—two of the fastest-talking stars of the era—Cukor assumed an unsympathetic audience would derive satisfaction from witnessing Hepburn, who was widely known for her progressive views on women’s social roles, as vanquished and broken, lying on her back.
Cukor adds fodder to this original insult by including a line from Tracy’s floundering father, who has largely been absent from her life, though not absent enough to be unaware of his daughter’s excessive vanity.
“You have everything it takes to make a lovely woman,” the father
reminds her, “except the one essential. An understanding heart.”
Coming home for her wedding after a period of absence, he describes her as a goddess who is unwilling to relinquish her cherished pedestal. “You have everything it takes to make a lovely woman,” he tells her, “except the one essential. An understanding heart.” Tracy’s decision to marry George (John Howard), a self-made man and rising star of the middle class, indicates her growing awareness of the deficiencies her own privilege has caused her.
She has chosen to transcend the limitations imposed by her social status. Nevertheless, Mike Connor’s (Jimmy Stewart) remark serves as a reminder that there may be a few other factors Tracy may have failed to consider: “Well, I made a funny discovery. And in spite of the fact that somebody’s up from the bottom, he can still be quite a heel.” Warning her that the middle class, after all, may not offer her a world devoid of arrogance and snobbery. She is proud to recognize that she possesses a compassionate nature; it is her superior social position that forces her to display pretentious behavior. Among the few issues she has overlooked is a comment by Dinah (Virginia Weidler), her crafty younger sister, who anticipates the weather on her wedding day and points out her unyielding nature: “Oh, it won’t rain, Tracy won’t stand for it.”
She eventually learns that the problem,
indeed, is not class but humanity
Then, new problems occur. To correct her mistake, she diverts her attention to the middle class. Confident in the homogeneous nature of the class, she no longer has difficulty with pretentious behavior, a hallmark of the aristocracy, and she decides, despite her tendencies, to choose George as her future husband. Connor’s line, which also comes from a member of the middle class, reminds her that moral flaws are not exclusive to the elites. One does not have to come from the aristocracy to be a “heel”; the middle class has its share of “heels” as well. In the meantime, Connor also learns that the aristocracy is not unified either and may include individuals like Tracy, whom he has fallen in love with.
For the opening scene, Cukor thought an unsympathetic audience would
derive satisfaction from witnessing Hepburn, widely known for her progressive views on women’s social roles, as vanquished and broken, lying on her back.
Ironically, he discovers he has ignored a gem, who is also in love with him, his middle-class photographer; he was too busy with work to look at her from a different perspective. In the end, when Tracy refuses another offer from the middle class, this time from a seemingly more appropriate source, Cukor shows that she has developed a deeper understanding of class and its associated problems. She eventually learns that the problem, indeed, is not class but humanity. Although somewhat late, Tracy discovers that prejudice is not class-specific and exclusive to the nobility. The middle class can also exhibit bias, albeit in a distinct manner, where any form of disadvantage creates a layer of defense out of intolerance and hatred.
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