Throughout film history, there are certain combinations that undoubtedly prove to be recipes for success – one of them is the combination of the names George Cukor, Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant. Normally, one would think of the timeless classic The Philadelphia Story, but in the case of this review, we’re considering the somewhat less popular, but still exceptionally brilliant Holiday. The second of four collaborations between Grant and Hepburn (who had previously worked together on Sylvia Scarlett and would work together again in Bringing Up Baby, the greatest screwball comedy of all time later that year), as well as their second pairing helmed by Cukor (who would later cap off their remarkable collaborative career with The Philadelphia Story), Holiday is an odd film – by no means is it inferior to any of the other great comedies of the time, and it stands firmly as a terrific comedy of manners, but rather it is something quite different from what we’d expect, especially considering the nature of the film’s story, and the trio of cinematic iconoclasts, leading to certain expectations being set from the outset, and while we shouldn’t dare suggest Holiday is anything less than a tremendously entertaining and profoundly meaningful comedy, the likes of which are rarely seen nowadays, it is a stark contrast to other films of the era, and it is neither no better nor no worse, but rather quite different – but it is still quite entertaining, and certainly a very special film.

Johnny Case (Cary Grant) is a self-made man, someone who has risen to be quite comfortable financially through his own earnest efforts. Deciding that he is going to take a holiday for the first time in his life, he meets a young woman in Lake Placid named Julia Seton (Doris Nolan), and they are instantly compatible. Returning to New York, Johnny is shocked to discover that the mild-mannered woman is actually the heiress from one of New York’s richest families, headed by her father (Henry Kolker), an exceptionally wealthy banker and businessman who is beyond influential. A visit to their mansion allows Johnny the chance to meet some of his fiancee’s relatives, namely her drunkard brother Ned (Lew Ayres) and her sister, Linda (Katharine Hepburn), who cannot be more different from her sister. While Julia is elegant and mild-mannered, Linda is bold and defiant. Whereas Julia cares more for maintaining the family dignity, Linda has no qualms in doing what she feels to be best for her, even if that means going against the high society status quo – and very soon, Johnny finds himself caught between the two women, who are so starkly different, and represent different futures for him. Julia is the embodiment of stability and safety, and life with her would be nothing short of comfortable and carefree. Linda personifies reckless wonder and curiosity, and a lust for life that is otherwise missing from the placid life of the upper class. Caught between two conflicting futures, Johnny finds himself in a quandary and needs to reconcile reason with desire in choosing his path forward.

There are multiple layers as to why Holiday is a really terrific film. First of all, we need to note how this is a film that stars two of the greatest stars of the Golden Age of Hollywood. There are few people who are as indomitable as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn, and while both had their fair share of dramatic and genre work, it is always their earlier comedies, especially those together, that are the most fondly remembered. There is an element of comedies from this era that seems to be missing from a large portion of contemporary films – while the stories may be simple and often quite predictable, the chemistry of the leads was paramount and led to some truly riveting viewing – and very few actors could play off each other as well as Grant and Hepburn, who were brilliant in general, and astonishing together. Hepburn is a chameleonic performer, being capable of working with anyone throughout her career and always finding compatibility with those she shared the screen with. Interestingly, while Holiday does rely quite heavily on the charms of Hepburn and Grant, they do challenge themselves somewhat, not focusing solely on their well-worn but nonetheless beloved idiosyncracies, but rather imbuing their characters with a certain humanity that goes beyond their traditional archetypes – Hepburn is the feisty, independent woman, but also someone not afraid to show her vulnerabilities. Grant is the effortlessly suave charmer, but he doesn’t neglect to prove that it doesn’t come naturally, and there is an effort that needs to go into being self-made. It is an interesting contrast to his performance as C.K. Dexter Haven in The Philadelphia Story. Finally, we just need to mention Lew Ayres, who manages to overtake the leads to give the best performance in the film as Ned, who is used mainly as comic relief but finds himself to be a source of unexpected tenderness and immense wisdom, with his natural delivery being quite unexpected and entirely wonderful.

Holiday is a film that normally comes up when great screwball comedy films are being discussed and is often considered a prime example of the genre. Over the past few years, I’ve ventured quite deeply into the genre and found it to be astounding and wonderful in every way, and some of the finest cinematic experiences have been derived from these films that may be archaic in age, but still delightfully resonant. Yet, there is something about Holiday that is strikingly different what I’ve come to expect, and it stirred up some thought – how do we differentiate between a screwball comedy and a romantic comedy from the 1930s? There seems to be a very fine line separating them, and often every quirky and romantic film is classified as a screwball comedy. There is an element of the genre that goes seemingly unspoken, but one I endeavoured to actively investigate – especially because it is a sub-genre that is not particularly difficult to make, nor is it one that is entirely dated (in the same way the western genre has shifted from the realm of the blockbuster to the arthouse), yet it has seemingly gone out of fashion, with even the most elegant of contemporary romantic comedies missing the quality that made the screwball such an endearing genre. A brief discussion with a colleague brought up two areas that define the screwball genre – pace and cynicism, with these two being the core of the genre, and precisely where Holiday differs from the rest of the more traditional screwball comedies.

Holiday is not the fast-paced, upbeat comedy that many claim it to be – and in many ways, it is a far more layered and complex film that even veers away from comedy and rather into the area of melodrama. A large part of the first act of the film sees Grant exploring the huge mansion, interacting with a variety of characters and getting to know the family – and while it is quite entertaining, there’s an element to this film that defies the conventions of the genre. Perhaps it is the partial absence of a score in places where music would be used to heighten the tone and contribute to the zaniness. Perhaps it is the fact that Holiday is a very funny film, but it lacks the caustic wit of other screwball comedies – essentially, all of these characters are inherently likeable – a quality of many great comedies from the decade is that even the most endearing of protagonist tended to be somewhat immoral or mischevious. Everyone in Holiday is genuinely decent, and while this may be an odd critique, when we consider cynicism is a primary tool used by these films to create conflict that eventually leads to the heartwarming conclusion, its absence here is noteworthy. The screwball genre is one that is extremely popular but has not been researched in much detail, and it is a worrying trend for every endearing comedy from the 1930s and 1940s to be shoehorned into the genre, which is one that is far more specific than many give it credit for. This isn’t to disqualify Holiday – it is a great film, but rather one that is far more melodramatic and profound than the traditional films that fall under this term.

Putting pedantic ramblings aside, Holiday is a terrific film because it combines traditional romance with more socially-charged storytelling. Cukor was a profoundly brilliant filmmaker, and in remaking the eponymous film from 1930, he managed to make a wonderful social satire that looks at the life of the wealthy influential in a way that is revealing without ever being mean-spirited. Rich people are often shown to be villains, people obsessed with excess and the extents to which their affluence can help them. Cukor doesn’t intend to antagonize these people, but rather show them as being innocently oblivious to the world around them. He does this through making the two protagonists people within the world (allowing inside perspective), but detached enough from these ideas that they can be the audience’s surrogate. Grant plays a self-made man, someone who is relatively comfortable financially, while Hepburn plays a woman who is wealthy beyond belief. What makes them different from the less-admirable characters in this film is that they long for something more, something that money can’t buy. There is an insatiable joie de vivre present in these two characters that binds them together and motivates them to make the bold decisions they do throughout the film. Interestingly, Holiday is most certainly a romantic comedy, but one where the romance is kept quite distant, with the love between the two main characters only really being explored towards the end of the film. While many films of this ilk are built primarily on the romance, there is a deeper exploration of social issues that may not be particularly unique but is nonetheless quite profound.

I found Holiday to be a delight – perhaps it didn’t have the impact as something like The Awful Truth, or the wittiness of Bringing Up Baby, or the innovative brilliance of The Philadelphia Story, but it is a wonderful film and one that is tremendously funny and heartwarmingly romantic in equal measure. Considering the scope of his career, this may be one of Cukor’s smaller works, but it is still quite exceptional in its own right. Featuring expectedly great performances from Grant and Hepburn, whose chemistry in Holiday is wonderful, and a surprisingly powerful turn from Lew Ayres, and a general sense of familiarity with the themes it tackles, Holiday is a terrific comedy. It is very different from the films it is normally grouped with, and it stands as something quite unique on its own terms, being an oddly potent romantic comedy, one that places more emphasis on the importance of finding one’s self over simply falling in love – by all means, Julia was a wonderful person and would’ve made a suitable wife for Johnny, but she would have been the wrong choice, not because of who she is, but because of what Johnny wanted out to life. Holiday has some interesting themes, and a second viewing may allow me to focus more on the underlying message as opposed to looking at this as a minor screwball, possibly proving that Holiday is something all of its own, and despite its relative lack of overt popularity, it is certainly worth the time of any viewer who wants diverting, meaningful entertainment. They just don’t make films like Holiday anymore.