WITHOUT LOVE: Blu-ray (MGM, 1945) Warner Archive

If anything, director, Harold S. Bucquet’s last movie, Without Love (1945) proves that a winning team isn’t enough to sustain a movie. Indeed, on their third outing together, Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn – by now, notoriously involved (Tracy was married) – struck a decidedly soft note in this failed oddity from playwright Philip Barry.  Bucquet died of cancer the following year, age 54, leaving his swan song a somewhat off-kilter reboot of Barry’s Broadway dud, also to have starred Hepburn, and, at least in the movie version, to provide some wonderful bits of business for comedians, Lucille Ball and Keenan Wynn. Otherwise, this one basically followed the plot of the stage show and, true to Barry’s literary finesse, did a lot more ‘telling’ than ‘showing’ which, proved to be both the show and the film’s Achilles’ Heel. Movies need to…well…move, and at almost every juncture, Without Love is instead contented to remain in place, indulging in long scenes of exposition, philosophically/politically motivated discussions and contemplation a plenty. While the Tracy/Hepburn chemistry, already firmly ensconced in the public’s mind, was enough to help Without Love turn a profit at the box office, it was not – as MGM had hoped – the titan to top all the rest.

Barry, born in Rochester, NY, was, by 1945, something of a national treasure, having broken to critical acclaim with, The Youngest, written at the age of 28. In truth, Barry had been authoring plays and short stories since the age of 9; virtually ignored for his innate talent. Denied a family inheritance, yet expected to fall into line with the family business, Barry’s determination to be his own man put him in close proximity to such imminent playwrights as Eugene O'Neill, Sidney Howard, S. N. Behrman, and Thomas Wolfe (who thoroughly despised him). Working for the Yale Literary Magazine, and, Dramatic Club, Barry also incurred the wrath of playwright, Robert E. Sherwood who thought him a "exasperating young twirp." As first impressions often prove deceiving, Sherwood eventually became one of Barry’s best friends, even devoting himself to Second Threshold – Barry’s final play, posthumously completed. And while Barry invariably had his share of successes (The Jilts, 1922, won the Herndon for Best Drama, and, both Holiday – 1928, and The Philadelphia Story – 1939 were each turned into memorable movies for which Barry’s reputation thus endures today – mostly –), he also had his share of flops; Without Love, among the out-and-out failures. Alas, MGM had bought the rights to Without Love for a cool $265,000, on the strength of The Philadelphia Story and with the understanding Hepburn – whose name was already attached to the Broadway derivative – would reprise her role.

Only a few short years before, it looked as though Hepburn would never work in pictures again; branded – among a host of others – as ‘box office poison’ in Variety: the showbiz bible. Undaunted, the indomitable Hepburn petitioned Barry to write The Philadelphia Story for her; then, purchased the rights from Barry wholesale to finagle a highly lucrative deal with MGM’s L.B. Mayer, to appear in the movie version. Mayer did everything to woo Hepburn into selling him the property outright without her services, but to no avail. At last, conceding defeat, Mayer elected instead to offer Hepburn her pick of the litter in Metro’s leading men to bolster the public’s interest in the movie; Cary Grant and James Stewart eventually signing on. When The Philadelphia Story proved a mega-hit for Metro, Mayer renegotiated a long-term contract with Hepburn to remain at his studio and quickly snatched up the rights to Barry’s Without Love. And thus, began the second phase of Kate’s memorable Hollywood tenure, and, her chance meeting with the man who would most closely occupy her co-starring status on screen and in life for the next 3 decades: Spencer Tracy. Meeting Tracy for the first time as he exited the Thalberg Building with director, Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Hepburn was dumbstruck by an uncanny affection, apologizing to Tracy for wearing heels, which made her appear taller than him. “Don’t worry about it, Kate,” Mankiewicz coolly told her, “He’ll cut you down to size.”

Indeed, one of the most amiable qualities of the Tracy/Hepburn screen magic is the modestly antagonistic nature of their ‘relationship’ – the ‘he said/she told’ dynamic eventually giving way to an intellectual meeting of the minds, inevitably to mutate into the blossom of love. Tracy, in fact, did not want to make Without Love – agreeing only as he understood Hepburn could not get out of the commitment herself. In Donald Ogden Stewart’s reworking of Philip Barry’s original, Hepburn plays a somewhat forlorn widow, Jamie Rowan, who invests in the war effort by marrying a military research scientist, Patrick Jamieson (Tracy), so he can secretly set up his experimental lab in the basement of her Washington, D.C. townhouse. In between the picture’s ‘Madame Currie-esque’ moments of experiments, Jamie engages Patrick on a platonic level, suggesting a marriage need not be based on ‘love’ to be considered a great success. In fact, ‘without love’, a couple can remain unencumbered by jealousies, bickering and other marital disadvantages. Alas, neither grasps the nature of mutual respect, leading directly to admiration, and finally – yes – love; the unanticipated fallout of remaining in close proximity to one another.

Without Love represents Barry at his most serious – and that is part, if not all, of its problem. The other difficulty here is Hepburn, seemingly too close to the material and the character, and playing it with an austerity that belies the ole Tracy/Hepburn spark of excitement, generated full-throttle elsewhere in their canon of movies made together. Hepburn’s Jamie is just too recherché for Tracy’s earthy, smart-mouthed, if high-minded egg to spar with or spark off. At one point, Jamie floats into the room in a flowing white gown (very un-Hepburn-like) to perform a piano recital where she also serenades in French. As though to offer a counterpoint, Bucquet affords Tracy a similar moment, tickling the ivories, in a tender-hearted scene that woos the uncompromising bird of paradise down from her perch. All this un-lovable nonsense begins in earnest when an inebriated Quintin Ladd (Keenan Wynn), staggering in close proximity to a taxi, invites Patrick to move into his cousin’s abode. It seems Pat, a scientist, has a natural aversion to women in general, and proves it by verbally accosting Ladd’s fiancée, Edwina Collins (Patricia Morison) in a delightful display of displaced retribution; Pat, striking a blow for all manhood, seemingly emasculated by domineering women. He also has little use for Jamie, whom he regards as opinionated and stuck up. She, on the other hand, having mistaken him as one of the interviewees for the caretaker’s position, finds him gauche, and is even less impressed to learn he has brought along his dog, Dizzy.

In the meantime, Pat takes a passing fancy in tart-mouthed realtor, Kitty Trimble (Lucille Ball at her ‘shoot from the hip’ glamour gal best), hired by Jamie to show the townhouse to prospective buyers; one of them being Paul Carrell (Carl Esmond), who is more interested in Jamie than the house. We are also introduced to Pat’s mentor and friend, Professor Ginza (the delightful Felix Bressart), who is fascinated by Pat’s aeronautic research. Hesitant about occupying space with any woman until Jamie, already widowed, backs his own negative impressions about love, an embolden Jamie, enamored with Pat’s experimental high-altitude oxygen helmet, certain to have ramifications for the war department, is elated to be a part of his research. Inspiration turns to a unique and not altogether successful proposition when Jamie decides they should be wed on the understanding theirs will be the first uniquely situated union, uncomplicated by romance. Given Pat’s aversion to love, he miraculously agrees to these terms, then proceeds to sleep walk his way into Jamie’s bedroom, creating a moment of unease and startle for the newlyweds who are otherwise determined to keep their relationship on a purely platonic level.

After several months devoted to the cause of pure research, Pat and Jamie retreat to her cottage for a little rest and relaxation. Predictably, Kitty has taken up residence in an adjacent property, wooed by Ladd, who desperately hopes to entice her to stay, despite having accepted a weekend invitation, along with Paul and others, to Edwina’s cottage. While Pat continues his research, Jamie indulges in a little R&R with Paul, going for a buggy ride in the country. He attempts to make the ‘big pitch’. And although receptive, she resists. On the carriage ride back to the farm, Jamie reconsiders what love might do for her marriage and elects to try her theory on Pat. Unhappy circumstance, he has already been recalled to Washington, accompanied by Col. Braden (Charles Arnt). By chance, Jamie catches the same train in the nick of time, intercepting Pat’s perfect escape, accompanied by a book of romantic poetry she recites but without much success at getting her husband to see the point. In quiet desperation, she confides to Pat, Paul’s failed seduction. But even this does not rub Pat the wrong way. If anything, his indifference remains thoroughly intact. The next day, Pat decides to interrupt his busy schedule to buy Jamie some flowers, encountering a tearful seller (Gloria Grahame). Alas, he also receives an impromptu telephone call from his ex, Lila, who is most eager to see him.

In the meantime, Jamie throws herself a quiet birthday party in the hopes it will inspire Pat to be more than kind to her. Alas, Jamie’s endeavors to stir an amorous streak turn sour when she confronts Pat about his ex instead, suggesting with Lila’s divorce finalized there is virtually nothing to stand in his way to renew his affections for her now. Resisting the urge to see Lila is far worse than desiring to see her at all, as far as Jamie is concerned. When Pat, frustrated and disgusted by Jamie’s behavior, informs he is going for a walk, she defiantly infers she will not be waiting for him upon his return, to which he merely shrugs her off before departing. The next day, at the science department, Pat tests his oxygen apparatus as Ginza and a select group of military men look on. The experiment is a success and Pat suddenly realizes he loves Jamie. Alas, upon his return to the townhouse, Pat discovers from Kitty that Jamie and Paul are seeing a lot of one another. Kitty also informs Pat she has had it with Ladd, who appears to be ignoring her completely. At a rooftop gathering, Ladd comes clean to Kitty. He has joined the navy, but nevertheless intends, at the first opportunity, to make her his wife, much to Edwina’s chagrin. Pat searches for Jamie at the party. Now, Edwina informs him Jamie left with Paul a short while before. Pat confronts Paul in his apartment. And although he does not find Jamie there, he does discover the remnants of a rouge-smeared cigarette and martini glass, also the broken heel of a lady’s shoe.

Arriving back at the townhouse, Pat is told by Jamie’s housekeeper, Anna (Emily Massey) she returned home a short while ago and went directly to bed. Determined to rectify the situation, Pat is put off by Jamie’s morbid reincarnation of his ex, Lila – cavorting about in a feather and satin ensemble and playing French songs on the piano. Chasing her about the parlor, Pat eventually convinces his wife of three things; first, that despite her flamboyance, she does not have it in her to be Lila; second, although she admits to almost falling for Paul, Pat knows better and trusts her implicitly in the arms of any competitor for his affections; and finally, the prospect of their getting a divorce so she can go to Paul and he can pursue Lila is futile since he and Jamie are a matched set – fated to be mated, finally learned how to be wed ‘with’ love! As the couple embrace, Dizzy presents Pat with Jamie’s broken shoe – proof positive she was, indeed, at Paul’s apartment earlier in the evening. It doesn’t matter. Their love can endure such nonsense. Pat presents Jamie with the medal he received for his oxygen mask. The couple embrace, and the screen fades to black.

On stage, the part of the scientist had been played with tepid resolve by Elliott Nugent. In the movie, Tracy adds his formidable presence to the part. Alas, Tracy – of the earthy ilk – is the wrong ‘type’ – leaving his alter ego wholly unconvincing as the man with only scientific equations on his mind. Hepburn’s Jamie is far more convincing as the heartsore widow who begins to allow the unanticipated sway of passion to once more infiltrate her heart. If not for her overly-cultured demeanor, all Brymore and bromide, Hepburn’s burgeoning woman of the world would be the undisputed winner of this quixotic harangue. At one point, Jamie is seen reciting Sir William Watson’s 1897 poem, ‘Song’, misquoting ‘April, April…laugh thy girlish laughter’ as ‘April, April, with her girlish laughter’ – forgivable hyperbole, given the otherwise bountiful exposition, that threatens to make every scene a mere recital of Barry’s own platitudes, merely placed into the mouths of these fictional offspring. As Barry had original written Without Love for Hepburn, it seems odd her part in this movie is the lesser of the two; Tracy, given more cache, if not more screen time.

When Without Love premiered, it received mostly mixed reviews, citing its “general(ly) obvious” premise, slightly offset by a modicum of “sparkling dialogue”.  Viewed today, one can definitely admire the articulation throughout the piece, particularly Ogden Stewart’s updating of the material, while maintaining Barry’s flair and wry wit throughout. So too, can we champion Hepburn and Tracy who, despite being marginally miscast, nevertheless make something of their ‘reel’ roles, mostly inspired by their ‘real’ passion. It’s their love that shines through here – the reel/real reason these characters click as they ought, with a certain luster and zeal surpassing this otherwise somewhat contrived plot. Definitely the least well-known of all Tracy/Hepburn rom/coms, Without Love lacks at least one great ‘set piece’ to make it memorable. Ogden Stewart’s screenplay is grounded in a certain irreconcilable fidelity to Barry’s stagecraft that does not bode well for the demands of cinema. This is the real struggle the picture never quite overcomes, despite excellent production values, Karl Freund’s gorgeous cinematography and clever exchanges between our stars. The tally, alas, falls short of expectations, leaving Without Love without a soul for the audience to lean upon for those warm and fuzzy afterglows into movie-land romance. On the books, MGM could mark the picture in its ‘win’ column, taking home an overage of $619,000; a major release, but with only minor dividends on to be gleaned from its investment.

Without Love arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive. Regrettably, the results are not entirely satisfactory. For starters, the image is very soft, with a distinct loss in fine detail. While close-ups still look acceptable, medium and long shots toggle between just that, to blurry, dull and otherwise nondescript masses of blocky tonality, further homogenized by a general lack in overall image clarity. Contrast too seems a tad weaker than anticipated. The gray scale generally falls into a muddy mid-register. Worst of all, grain appears to have been homogenized to the point of practically being nonexistent. DNR? The audio is 1.0 DTS mono and beautifully remastered with no hiss or pop. Don’t know what source materials were used in remastering this release, but the results are well below WAC’s usual high standards and, I sincerely hope, do not reflect a downturn in quality for future releases. Extras are limited to carry-overs from the old retired DVD release, and include a short, cartoon and theatrical trailer – none afforded the necessary upgrade in their master to 1080p! For shame. Honestly, I am a bit disappointed in this release. Regrets.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

1