As one of the greatest movies ever made–in any genre–it’s no surprise that The Philadelphia Story still manages to hold up even in spite of being released seventy-eight years ago. And its ironclad brilliance is in large part thanks to screenwriter Donald Ogden Stewart (who also worked on another Katharine Hepburn vehicle prior called Holiday, something of a precursor to The Family Stone), who adapted it from Philip Barry’s Broadway play, based on the famed socialite Helen Hope Montgomery Scott, at one point married to a friend of Barry’s, thereby allowing him a firsthand perspective on her so-called hijinks (though one imagines Paris Hilton would put her to shame, at least in terms of shamelessness).
Seeing something in the material, Hepburn seized upon the rights to capitalize on the popular comedy of remarriage narrative of the time. It was also of the utmost importance to her to have total control over selecting who would be a part of the project, likely so as to avoid the curse placed upon her by then influential New York movie theater owner Harry Brandt, who labeled Hepburn, among others including Joan Crawford, “box office poison.” While Hepburn may have taken the reins behind the scenes, she couldn’t control the decidedly misogynistic and Electra complex-laden presence of a speech by the patriarch of the film, Seth Lord (John Halliday), upon his return from New York after disgracing the family (though not yet in the public eye) by running off to philander with a dancer. In the role of Tracy Lord, Hepburn plays the persona of a self-righteous, no-nonsense woman of high social and monetary standing with absolutely no tolerance for imperfection in her life, therefore those who orbit it. Thus, her father’s indiscretion is a source of extreme humiliation and acrimony, hence her willingness to go through with a puff piece she would never ordinarily allow in order to preserve the Lords’ reputation, even that of her irreverent younger sister, Dinah (Virginia Weidler), and her seemingly nonplussed about much of anything mother, Margaret (Mary Nash).
Despite the first scene immediately offering an act of violence against a woman with C.K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant) giving Tracy a wallop out of frustration after she snaps his golf club in two as he departs, it is, shockingly, not this moment that finds one bristling the most, but rather the monologue Seth gives to Tracy in the second act, at a moment when she’s feeling particularly fragile about her impending nuptials to nouveau riche “man of the people” George Kittredge (John Howard)–who is elated to learn that Spy is writing about them, all in keeping with his faux interest in the plight of the common man, a ruse intended to incite the common man to take an interest in him. To make matters worse, C.K. has reemerged after two years in South America with a reporter and photographer in tow, Macaulay a.k.a. Mike Connor (Jimmy Stewart) and his girlfriend, Elizabeth Imbrie (Ruth Hussey), regular go-tos of Spy magazine, though both have their own artistic aspirations in their respective mediums, Mike even having written a collection of short stories at one point. The publisher of this gossip-oriented rag, Sidney Kidd (Henry Daniell), finds a way to at last wear Tracy down into giving the all access pass he’s been craving for the wedding via the blackmailing evidence about Seth’s extramarital indiscretion with Tina Mara (a moniker that clearly alludes to her looseness). But with C.K. pulling the puppet strings of how the story is described, Tracy is feeling especially nervous about the entire ordeal of remarrying–though of course, with her steely demeanor, she would never admit to such skittishness. To intensify the stress of being in the presence of her ex as she goes about her final preparations for the wedding, Seth decides to return just at the moment when they’ve told Mike and Elizabeth that Tracy’s Uncle Willie (Roland Young), a lush and lecher of a man, is her father. Keeping up the charade for a while, Tracy not only explains the current situation to Seth but also comes to blows with him after he so seamlessly reingratiates himself back into Margaret’s life.
The sight of her so willing to forgive Seth’s flagrant folly serves as the “two” in the one-two punch of her fresh exchange with C.K., who dissects her upcoming wedding and her choice of Kittredge as follows: “I suppose you’d still be attractive to any man of spirit, though. There’s something engaging about it, this ‘goddess’ business–something more challenging to the male than the more obvious charms.” Tracy balks, “Really?” C.K. affirms, “Really. We’re very vain, you know. ‘This citadel can and shall be taken, and I’m the boy to do it.'” Her patience wearing thin, she remarks, “You seem quite contemptuous of me all of a sudden.” He insists, “No, Red, not of you. Never of you. Red, you could be the finest woman on this earth. I’m contemptuous of something inside you you either can’t help or won’t try to. Your so-called ‘strength,’ your prejudice against weakness, your blank intolerance.” With sarcasm, she asks, “Is that all?” “That’s the gist of it. Because you’ll never be a first-class human being or a first-class woman until you’ve learned to have regard for human frailty. It’s a pity your own foot can’t slip a little sometime, but your sense of inner divinity wouldn’t allow that. ‘This goddess must and shall remain intact.’ There are more of you than people realize.” Nearly on the verge of her emotions being penetrated, Kittredge interrupts the exchange just in time, soon after C.K. departs informing her that it is her hardened, statuesque nature that drew him to her and will forever hold his attention, the last thing she wants to hear in that moment.
Thus, the timing of her subsequent encounter with her father thoroughly salts the wound to the extreme as he proceeds to justify his actions by shifting the blame onto Tracy, who stands before him as he lackadaisically makes a drink and pontificates, “What most wives fail to realize is that their husbands’ philandering has nothing whatever to do with them.” Tracy engages, “Oh? Then what has it to do with?” Seth proffers, “A reluctance to grow old, I think. I suppose the best mainstay a man can have as he gets along in years…is a daughter. The right kind of daughter.” She counters, “How sweet.” But Seth can’t be stopped from his tangent now, adding, “No, I’m talking seriously about something I’ve thought over thoroughly. I’ve had to. A devoted young girl gives a man the illusion that youth is still his.” Eye rollingly, she agrees, “Very important, I suppose.” Seth confirms, “Oh, very, very. Because, without her, he might be inclined to go in search of his youth. That’s just as important to him as it is to any woman. But with a girl of his own, full of warmth for him, full of foolish, unquestioning, uncritical affection.” Tracy touts what he’s not subtly getting around to by declaring, “None of which I’ve got.” Her father’s floodgates further opened by Tracy’s self-admission, he concurs, “None. You have a good mind, a pretty face, a disciplined body that does what you tell it. You have everything it takes to make a lovely woman except the one essential. An understanding heart. Without that, you might as well be made of bronze.” Finally unable to take any more of his criticism, she fights back with, “That’s an awful thing to say to anyone.” Shruggingly, Seth states, “Yes, it is indeed.” Incredulously, she demands, “So I’m to blame for Tina Mara, am I?” Seth nods, “To a certain extent, I expect you are.” Not buying into his dime store psychological assessment of his motives for infidelity, she screams, “You coward!” He retorts, “But better that than a prig or a perennial spinster…however many marriages.” At this point, even Margaret is fazed by Seth’s verbal abuse, scolding, “Seth, that’s too much.” He shakes his head, “I’m afraid it’s not enough. I’m afraid nothing is.” This allusion of Tracy never being capable of accepting or understanding human foibles is, indeed, why men seem to both simultaneously love and despise her–even her own father. Because while they admire the qualities of perfection in a woman, they loathe it when they themselves are not excused for their many imperfections.
Even when Tracy lets her guard down (relatively) with Mike to express her admiration for his talent, she is condescended to. As they walk from the library after he catches her reading his book, she notes, “Tell me something, will you? When you can do a thing like that book, how can you possibly do anything else?” Mocking her privilege, he quips, “You may not believe this, but there are people that must earn their living.” What one may also not believe is that there is any man on this earth without bizarre, unnecessary psychological hangups that they, when they become fathers, also feel the need to impart onto their daughters. Regardless of whether they’re the “goddess” type or not. Luckily, the goddess types will not stand for such cockamamie.
