Thinking through my love for The Philadelphia Story (1940)

For an eight-year-old girl growing up on the 100-degree sun that is Doha, Qatar, entertainment viewing options were limited. One of the few channels I remember with programs in English was Animal Planet. My parents still talk about the censored versions of the Lord of the Rings (2001-2003) trilogy they saw at our local movie theater. I have vivid memories of the treat that was my dad bringing VHS tape recordings of American TV home from business trips and the stack of box sets from Desperate Housewives (2004-2012) to The O.C. (2003-2007), whose blurbs I’d read like the back of cereal boxes. Long haul treks back to the States presented a distinctive “problem” to my overprotective mom: how to keep her four kids away from the plethora of R-rated movies available via Qatar Airways’ in-flight entertainment. Her answer? The classic movie section. It was here that I first discovered George Cukor’s The Philadelphia Story (1940).

The Philadelphia Story follows wealthy socialite Tracy Lord (the inimitable Katharine Hepburn) as she prepares to marry everyman George Kittredge (John Howard). Chaos and comedy ensue when Tracy’s ex-husband, Dexter (Cary Grant), shows up at her house with tabloid reporter Macauley “Mike” Connor (James Stewart) and his photographer Liz (Ruth Hussey), who plan to cover the wedding for Spy Magazine. Post first watch, my twin sister and I would constantly reenact scenes from the film, particularly one where Tracy’s mother (Mary Nash) asks the Lord family: “shall we have sherry on the porch?” A little out there for kids our age, but hey, at least we were watching good movies. I remember how thrilled I was to receive a DVD of the film one Christmas. Even today, my love for the movie is unwavering, perhaps to a fault. I can’t count how many of my college applications were about this pinnacle of romantic comedies. An old boyfriend gave me a copy of the 1939 play of the same name with an entire square of text cut out on every page to reveal a photo of us glued to the last page. It was altogether sweet and the cringiest, most horrifying gift I’ve ever received. But why this movie? Childhood nostalgia certainly plays a role, but what else draws me in? What makes The Philadelphia Story, widely perceived as one of the best comedies ever made, tick?

There’s an element of escapism at play here. TPS is anything but relatable, but that’s all a part of the fun. The Lord family’s lavish lifestyle and out of touch personas are made instantly visible – at the beginning, Tracy’s biggest problem appears to be her inability to spell omelet and the “awful” wedding presents in her living room. The Adrian-designed costumes are extravagant and feature some of Hepburn’s most beautiful onscreen looks. The film came out about a year before the United States’ entry into World War II. I imagine the film was a brief reprieve from wartime anxieties – while the country had not officially entered the war yet, the September 14th, 1940 draft bill and barrage of news from Europe made it clear to the American public that war was near. In a post 2016 election, post pandemic world, I find I too appreciate a retreat into Cukor’s landscape of bubbly champagne and transatlantic accents. The world of this film feels particularly self-contained – it was, after all, adapted from a stage play – and there’s comfort in that, in its familiarity. I feel safe within the two-dimensional walls of Tracy’s world.

The dialogue is nothing short of gold standard, due both to Daniel Ogden Stewart’s script and the actor’s near-perfect line delivery. The snappy, fast-paced quips and sly remarks are enough to give Norah Ephron and Aaron Sorkin (if he made rom coms, that is) a run for their money. Characters respond to one another effortlessly; conversations are at once lifelike and yet too clever to be so. Listening to Tracy talk to Mike or Mike talk to Dexter is almost musical in its rhythm and Hepburn’s mid-Atlantic accent is a joy to listen to. One need look no further than the back and forth in the midnight conversation between Mike and Tracy after the party where she repeatedly calls him “professor,” much to his chagrin, to see this.

The standout performances in the film brought Stewart his only Academy Award win as well as nominations for Hepburn and Hussey. While putting Hepburn, Grant, and Stewart on the same screen seems like an obvious recipe for success now, Hepburn’s movies in the years leading up to TPS were box office failures. Movies like Bringing Up Baby (1938) and Holiday (1938), while critically acclaimed, made very little money. TPS marked a turn around. And the performances are, without a doubt, extraordinary. Hepburn commands the screen with her vibrant presence without overshadowing her costars. But what warms my heart is how much fun making the film seems to have been. When Dexter and Mike have a drunken late-night meeting at the “C.K. Dexter Haven mansion,” you see both Grant and Stewart break character slightly. Stewart hiccups – allegedly improvised – and Grant looks down, as if to stifle a laugh. Its scenes like these, often veering towards the silly, that make me return again and again.

Of course, TPS is not without flaws. Tracy’s first marriage to Dexter can be classified as an abusive relationship yet its him who she remarries at the film’s end. There are also moments that, I’d argue, were ahead of their time: when George thinks Mike slept with an intoxicated Tracy the night before her wedding, Mike’s explanation makes for a surprisingly solid and prescient discussion of consent.

Time has faded the luster of many movies for me. I can’t stomach Manhattan (1979) anymore, for obvious reasons, and Love Story (1970) isn’t the work of art I thought it was at sixteen. When a drunk Mike shows up at Dexter’s house after Tracy’s rehearsal dinner, he talks to his cab driver. “This is where Cinderella gets off,” he says. “You hurry back to the ball before you turn into a pumpkin and six white mice.” The magic of this movie never dulls in my book. It’s a fairytale that doesn’t get old. I spoke to an uncle-like family friend at a holiday party this November. After what I was studying inevitably surfaced in small talk, he asked me: “What’s your favorite movie?” I told him; his was the same. I was surprised – this never happens. “I watch it every year just to see if it holds up,” he said. “It does!” I replied. It does.