HOLIDAY: Blu-ray (Columbia, 1938) Criterion Collection

There is a moment in George Cukor’s brilliant, oft scathing, and deceptively light rom/com, Holiday (1938) where actor, Lew Ayres’ perpetually inebriated Ned Seaton strikes a rather sobering chord of disillusion in his elder sister, Linda (loosely based on socialite Gertrude Sanford Legendre and played with luminous self-pity by Kate ‘the great’ Hepburn). It’s a snap analysis of their youngest sibling, the doe-eyed and superficially charming, Julia (Doris Nolan), Ned, explaining to Linda, “You’re wrong about your sister…she’s not nearly as interesting as you think. She’s really a very dull girl.” And it’s rather ironic too – because up until this moment our hearts have largely been aligned with Nolan’s flaxen-haired rich girl. Proving Ned right will fill up most of the remaining run time in Cukor’s masterful recreation of Philip Barry’s sublime and introspective play, first produced for the stage in 1920.  Smack in the middle of the Great Depression, when most were out of work and frequenting bread lines to keep body and soul together, Cukor had the audacity to make a picture, seemingly nonchalant and glib in its dedication to a young man, who would much rather – and seemingly – fritter away his youth on the pursuit of ‘life, liberty and happiness’ on his own terms, unaffected that nothing can be achieved in this life except by working hard for the all-mighty buck. Nice work if you can get it. And as so many in 1938 could not, Holiday likely rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. But like all truly exceptional comedies, the situations unfurled within could just as easily played as deadly serious drama. Transposing the severity of the picture’s plot with a sort of gay impertinence flying in the face of these harsher realities, Holiday achieves irreverent joie de vivre for both sides of the argument. On the one hand, the young man in question – John Case (played with exceptional presence of mind by the elegant Cary Grant) is a straight arrow, aimed without subterfuge, to hold a mirror up to high society while having genuinely fallen in love with one of its own – Julia Seaton, heiress to a fortune. On the other, discovering that this woman of his heart is worth millions puts Johnny off his mettle. And, indeed, as the story wears on, he will not only discover that Julia neither shares in his bon vivant’s acumen to use work as a crutch to enjoy life, but also that her sister, Linda, having shaken the desirability of money – thereby branded as the ‘black sheep’ of the family, is decidedly the right girl for him.

Like all of Philip Barry’s best plays, Holiday is so much more than a marvelous critique of the hoi poloi and their ‘difficulties’ even obscene wealth cannot assuage, and, in fact, more oft than not amplifies, as the Seatons’ whole lives are on a hypothetical Benzadrine kick. Julia finds Johnny amusing – at first – perhaps, because he is so unaccustomed to wealth and, in fact, knows nothing about hers. Unspoiled by his lack of it, Julia naturally assumes Johnny will simply welcome the change by falling into line to accept a position with her father’s financial institution. Interestingly, Julia fails to recognize that the quality to have endeared her most to Johnny is his untarnished view of what life should be – one long holiday, unobstructed by the chronic pursuit of making more and more money. It was cute in the moment. But now, Johnny’s world view grates on Julia’s need for creature comforts. While Johnny has learned how to survive on limited means, Julia quite simply cannot live without a fat wallet. Hence, while Julia has changed – or rather, reverted back to her ‘dull’ self as Ned forewarned, Johnny has remained true to the forbearance of his creed. He begins and ends this holiday as a simple man with even simpler tastes, amused by wealth, but never to be slavishly devoted to it.  

George Cukor, very much in tune with the rhythms of Barry’s subtle and understated mores, also his expressive and revealing dialogue – which bears the illusion of being naturalistic, but in fact, reveals a more elaborate and cadenced moralizing – very articulate in sustained ways – requires a sort of lithe, yet controlled acting style to be convincingly conveyed without affectation. And herein, Cukor and Barry’s seemingly ‘throwaway candor’ is immeasurably favored by four exemplary performances from Grant, Hepburn, Ayres and Nolan. Barry depicts the rich, neither as idle nor wallowing in their ostentatious gains, but, in fact, finds the parallels with the average American, of which John Case proves the extreme example. Cukor, a great admirer of Barry, was determined to make Holiday as joyously rueful and resplendent a comedy as the play, evoking Barry’s subtle approach, ever so slightly tweaked and amplified for the movies, while retaining Barry’s razor-sharp clarity in what each of these archetypes desires. Despite the fact, Holiday had been an early and successful talkie, starring Ann Harding in 1930, in the interim the play had lain dormant with audiences; the script, gathering dust in RKO’s vaults until 1936, when Columbia Pictures purchased Holiday as part of a package deal in discarded or, as yet, un-produced properties for a meager $80,000. The studio’s original intent was to reunite Cary Grant with Irene Dunne, his superb costar from the mega-hit, The Awful Truth (1937). Interestingly, Leo McCarey was overlooked for the directorial duties on Holiday. George Cukor preferred Hepburn to Dunne – so, the former was borrowed from RKO after Columbia execs briefly toyed with the likes of either Joan Bennett or Ginger Rogers for the plum part. Indeed, Hepburn – hailed as a star only a few pictures ago, and something of a Cukor protege, was, by 1938, well on her way to being branded ‘box office poison’; a moniker to briefly stick, but later expunged when Hepburn departed Hollywood for Broadway, turning up in another Barry smash hit, The Philadelphia Story which she bought outright, to be recast in the 1940 movie adaptation, made at MGM.

Cukor shot a prologue to Holiday, set in Lake Placid, though actually shot in Bishop, California, in an attempt to ‘open up’ Barry’s stagecraft. Alas, in viewing the daily rushes, Cukor became disenchanted with this idea and cut the scene before the first premiere. Nevertheless, surviving stills from this sequence were used in the original poster and lobby card artwork adorning theaters to promote the picture. As it stands now, Holiday begins with Johnny’s arrival at the apartment of his good friends, Prof. Nick Potter (Edward Everett Horton) and his wife, Susan (Jean Dixon). Newly returned from his latest ‘holiday’ in Lake Placid, Johnny announces he is engaged to be married. Nick and Susan are elated, Johnny promising to introduce them to the girl of his heart after being reunited with her in town. Indeed, Johnny knows nothing about Julia Seaton except that he has fallen madly in love with her. And Julia has deliberately kept her family a secret from him, fearing even the whiff of wealth, as one of New York’s most influential clan, would only bring out the fortune hunter in him.  So, Johnny hails a taxi to the address Julia has scribbled on a piece of paper, equally unaware that his bride has gone off to church to be with her father, Edward (Henry Kolker) and Ned for Christmas services. Julia drops the bomb about her engagement. This both startles and worries Ed. Meanwhile, having arrived at the fashionable Park Ave. address, Johnny, still unsuspecting, assumes Julia ‘works’, rather than lives, in this great house. So, he arrives by the servant’s entrance and incurs their curiosities, shown into the estate’s grand foyer and parlor where he inadvertently meets Julia’s elder sister, the vivacious Linda.

At first, rather amused by Johnny – particularly his outlook on life – viewing work as a byproduct, merely to afford him the opportunity to take long holidays, Linda immediately knows the amiable fellow has bitten off more than he can chew. Still she likes Johnny – quite a lot. “I’m working,” Johnny explains, “I want to find out why I’m working.” Johnny is enchanted by Linda, quite simply – at least, at first – because she bears no earthly resemblance to her sister; the girl, presumably to have already conquered his heart. But has she? Gradually, Johnny comes to realize the Seatons are a fractured family. Their eldest child, Ned, is an alcoholic, using booze to medicate a broken spirit, made subservient by his father’s condescending nature and chronic disappointment in him. Because she lacks any interest in procuring a husband for herself, and prefers drama to real life, Linda is considered something of a flake and the ‘black sheep’ of the family. And Julia, who initially embraced Johnny, presumably ‘for himself’ is now revealed to be just as determined and exacting as Edward. Julia is her father’s daughter. She needs Johnny to be an upstanding guy – or rather, the kind that merely does what she and her father expect of him. Mildly appalled by his future son-in-law’s devil-may-care outlook, Edward reasons he can bring Johnny around to his way of thinking.

Almost immediately, an elaborate New Year’s Eve gala is planned to announce the couple’s engagement, even though Julia earlier promised Linda she could put together a more intimate gathering. Deeply wounded by this snub, or perhaps quite unable to face the fact times are changing – if not exactly for the better – Linda retreats to ‘the playroom’; the one hermetically embalmed part of their collective childhood. Linda recalls how they all used to be happy while their mother was alive. Meanwhile, at the party, guests are being introduced to Johnny Case, elegantly decked out in his tuxedo but otherwise entirely out of his element among the glitterati. When Cousin Laura Cram (Binnie Barnes) and her stuffy hubby, Seton (Henry Daniell) glibly inquire as to Linda’s absence from this elegant soiree, Julia begs Johnny to intervene. Instead, Johnny retires to the playroom, discovering Ned and Linda as better company. Joined by Nick and Susan, invited to the party, but who have aimlessly wandered upstairs in the meantime, the real party gets started until Laura and Seton appear, followed shortly thereafter by Julia and Edward, just in time to witness Johnny and Linda perform a tumbler’s acrobat.

Modestly appalled by this display, but willing to forgive Johnny for having fallen under Linda’s influence, Edward proposes Johnny join him as a junior partner in his banking firm. Instead, Johnny reveals his plans to be liberated from work by taking a holiday. Julia is incensed that her fiancée should have turned down such a generous offer. Returning to the playroom, Johnny finds Linda forlorn and alone. As the New Year fast approaches, Johnny tries to kiss Linda. She politely rebuffs him with a reminder she will soon be his sister-in-law. Johnny is quite stricken. Indeed, he has quietly fallen out of love with Julia, and departs the estate in a somber mood, though not without first wishing the kitchen staff a Happy New Year. Back in the playroom, Linda confides in Ned – she loves Johnny now. However, because she respects Julia more, Linda will not bring herself to dishonor the family. Aspiring to patch things up between Johnny and Julia, Linda engages the Potters for a little advice. Instead, she finds them already packing for a European holiday Johnny has agreed to go on. In fact, Johnny has already asked Julia to partake, in the hopes of re-setting their fractured relationship on more sure-footing. Just then, a telegram arrives, informing everyone Julia will not be sailing with them. Linda returns home, hoping to change Julia’s mind. Instead, they quarrel and Linda realizes that what Ned said about Julia being a ‘dull girl’ is quite true.  Just then, Johnny arrives with a compromise. He will commit himself to working at the bank for two years. If, in that time, he does not see the value in it, he will quit.

Edward is accepting of Johnny’s offer, certain two-years’ time will convert Johnny to his way of thinking. Julia and Edward begin to plan the couple’s honeymoon, leaving Johnny out of the loop, but otherwise breaking down the itinerary to its most minute detail, feathering in business-related endeavors with their scheduled stops at the homes of various relatives. Indeed, Edward has left nothing to chance, even ironing out the details of the couple’s new home, and already in the process of hiring servants to work for them.  Johnny is crestfallen, realizing he has already sacrificed what he holds dear while the girl of his dreams has made no such sacrifices for him. Imploring Julia to forgo these lavish wedding plans and, instead, elope with him that very night, she defiantly rejects his impetuosity. Sadder but wiser, Johnny elects to join the Potters and sail to Europe immediately. Now, Linda gets Julia to admit she does not really love Johnny after all. Indeed, Julia is relieved Johnny has gone. Linda renounces Edward’s stifling influence and begs Ned to affirm his independence from it too. Alas, from his present humiliation, Ned cannot bring himself to be as free and Linda, tenderly, vows to return for him, even as she rushes off to join Johnny and the Potters. Reunited aboard ship, the Potters and Johnny rejoice – momentarily taken aback when Linda suddenly appears in their midst. Johnny flips – literally, his pratfall, leading to their joyous reunion and a tender kiss.

Holiday is a real ‘meat and potatoes’ rom/com – the outer joy of it, dovetailing into a deeper, and oft unanticipated series of events that gradually erode what, at least at the outset, appears to be just another ‘young couple in love’ screwball valentine, destined for smooth sailing after a few obtuse misfires. That the picture ends with one sister stealing the other sister’s man, and, with the jilted party marginally relieved no less, immeasurably adds to Holiday’s charm. Hepburn and Grant are, of course, at the top of their game, having already appeared together in Howard Hawk’s delicious farce, Bringing Up Baby – made and released the same year as Holiday, and, again, to be teamed in their triumvirate of screen classics – The Philadelphia Story (1940). Hepburn especially, reveals an uncharacteristic vulnerability. It’s often classified as sheer self-pity. But actually, Hepburn goes well beyond that rank emotion; a certain sincerity with which we can truly empathize. Her Linda teeters at the precipice of grave regrets that Lew Ayres’ Ned has already crossed over into self-loathing via his alcoholic binges. And yet, he too is hardly bitter.  We feel for them both. And Grant’s John Case is inspiring; a dropout from the rat race that, far from being predicated on cleverness for the rich, instead manages to make sense – if not ‘cents’ – from his simpler life, to give the self-made man a real run for his money.  

Holiday truly is a gemstone from Hollywood’s golden age, long overlooked for rediscovery and neglected almost to the point of obliteration. Like much of Columbia’s old nitrate thirties’ catalog, no original camera elements exist on this deep catalog title. So, we are working backwards here from surviving fine grains and a lot of less than perfect dupes, again, not archived under optimal conditions. So, to discover that Sony has done a complete ‘ground up’ digital remaster – in 4K, no less – is to, yet again, doff our caps to Grover Crisp and his team of digital restorationists, feverishly toiling to preserve what remains of the studio’s heritage for future generations to appreciate and treasure. The work here is truly monumental, even if the results reveal what the ravages of time have done to a once gorgeous celluloid image. The image is still inherently soft. How much of this is owed the elements used to cobble together this 1080p transfer as opposed to Franz Planer’s dreamily lit soft-focus cinematography is open for debate. What is vastly improved here is contrast and grain levels. This hi-def rendering easily bests all previous DVD incarnations, appearing more film-like, and given a ‘warts and all’ clean-up to add continuity to the visuals. Comparing this to the tired old DVD is a revelation with one minor caveat; the 1.37:1 image, sometimes looking as though it were slightly horizontally stretched. Or perhaps the DVD was vertically squished.

Criterion favors another PCM mono track, offering consistent dialogue and Sideny Cutner’s score with a much richer ballast. Criterion pads out the extras with director, Edward H. Griffith’s original pre-Code, 1930 version of Holiday. We also get a plush 35-minute conversation between filmmaker, Michael Schlesinger and critic, Michael Sragow – two guys who not only are passionate about the movie, but can transmit their verve to the rest of us. Audio-only excerpts from the American Film Institute’s oral history with Cukor, recorded between 1970 and ’71 offer 20-minutes of priceless reflection. Finally, there is a gallery, devoted to Columbia’s resident couturier, Robert Mero Kalloch III (1893-1947, and simply known as Kalloch), exquisite costume design for Holiday: original design sketches and stills. And last but not least, we get liner notes by critic, Dana Stevens. Bottom line: Cukor’s Holiday is an excursion not to be missed: one of the finest rom/coms ever made – adult, erudite and teaming with life’s tragedies, remade as elegant and joyous screwball. This Blu-ray will be a welcomed edition to any aficionado of its stars, Cukor, Philip Barry, or just great ‘character-driven’ cinema we rarely – if ever – get to see anymore. Very – VERY – highly recommended!

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

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

4