You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family – at least not for the most part. The people who raise us are responsible not only our welfare, but also for instilling in us a set of values and principles that guide us to becoming valuable members of society. In most cases, they do an admirable job, even if the perfect family does not exist. The idea of being the product of your surroundings is the root of many terrific works, with You Can’t Take It with You being such an example. Originally a play by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, it tells the story of a wealthy banker who is planning to run his competitor out of business by purchasing a dozen blocks of residential land around his factory, only to have his plans stalled when it becomes clear that one family is refusing to leave their home, despite his best offers. What he doesn’t realise is that his own son is in a relationship with the family’s daughter, a fact that only becomes clear once the two clans are introduced to each other – one is a straight-laced, high society family who value status, the other a group of misfits and eccentrics who are adamant in their desire to stand out. They immediately clash, which only complicates the budding romance that is caught in the middle – but as we’d always expect, love does find a way to defy all odds. A delightful piece of theatre that was subsequently adapted to film, handled by the incredible Frank Capra, who was by this point already seen as arguably Hollywood’s most reliable director of romantic comedies (It Happened One Night remains perhaps the greatest entry into the genre’s history, at least from this particular era), the film is a tremendous achievement – simple and effective, while touching on deeper themes that may seem quite abstract at first, You Can’t Take It with You is an absolute delight, a charming romp about family, romance and society that brings out the best in everyone involved (on both sides of the camera), showing the simple value of a story that is told with wit, precision and an abundance of attention to not only detail, but the audience’s expectations as a whole.

At a glance, You Can’t Take It with You seems like a relatively conventional comedy about dysfunctional families. We can understand why it was such an acclaimed production on stage, since it’s the exact kind of film that does exceptionally well with audiences and critics, especially through taking such a simple premise as two completely different families being forced to come together and work through their differences. It is a classic comedy of errors in every way, a simple and effective work that may seem simple on the surface, but has a quiet complexity that we certainly can appreciate once we look beneath the surface. The primary point being explored in this story is class, with the core question being as follows: What separates high society from the rest of us? It can’t be wealth, since this film proves that there is only so much that money can buy, and elegance and decorum are certainly not among them. It’s not social and political influence, since that proves to be entirely negligible when dealing with people who place absolutely no value on that as a bellwether for decency. The film actually doesn’t give the answers, which is something that Capra constantly featured in his films, where the viewer is tasked with taking some very challenging ideas and having to make a decision based on their own individual interpretation. For a film produced in the 1930s, You Can’t Take It with You is surprisingly agile as far as thematic complexity goes, being quite simple at the best of times and actually offering some very unique insights into the narrative process, turning something so simple into a film that carries so much unexpected weight, especially in those moments where we would expect something simple, not a fascinating deconstruction of social structure. The American Dream was still a concept in which most of the country believed at the time, and while its certainly not without its merits, considering this is a film that boldly states its belief that wealth is not the only barometer of success, we can appreciate the courage it took to tell such a story at the time, where it would have likely been met with some degree of controversy, at least marginally.

The inherent problem with a film like You Can’t Take It with You is that it is so overstuffed with astonishing actors that choosing a standout performance is nearly impossible. The ensemble of this film is quite large, a veritable who’s-who of Golden Age icons, many of whom were delivering some of their very best work. James Stewart was only a year away from delivering the performance of a lifetime in Mr Smith Goes to Washington (also under Capra’s direction), and while he had done some solid work up until this point, he was still slightly under-appreciated, something that did shift with this film. Perhaps playing a happy-go-lucky bachelor in a case of eccentrics is not all that exciting, but only someone like Stewart could deliver a performance this well-rounded and complex, making Tony a dashing romantic hero, rather than a boring everyman. The same can be said for Jean Arthur, who is absolutely captivating as Stewart’s romantic interest, the sole sane member of an eccentric family. The chemistry between them is palpable, and we can certainly appreciate the decision to cast them as the anchors of this cast. However, they are the least interesting parts of the film, which may sound like a criticism, when in reality it is effusive praise – any film that can have two dynamic actors like Stewart and Arthur and allow them to be eclipsed by the supporting cast has achieved something very special. The heart of the film is Lionel Barrymore, who delivers one of the funniest performances of the 1930s, playing the part of Grandpa Martin Vanderhof, the unusually cheerful patriarch of the family who finds himself in a series of precarious situations, but somehow manages to get out of every one of them, despite the obstacles in his way. As arguably one of the greatest actors of his generation, Barrymore mastered both comedy and drama, and delivered stellar work throughout his career – whether or not You Can’t Take It with You is considered his masterpiece is a matter of interpretation, but it certainly is amongst his best work. The same can be said for Spring Byington, Edward Arnold and Mischa Auer, all of whom are the epitome of reliable character actors who are given roles in which they could absolutely shine. It’s a tremendous cast, and one of the very best ensembles of the entire era.

You Can’t Take It with You was a film made well into the Great Depression, and with any comedy produced at the time, we have to wonder how much of it was manufactured for the sake of providing relief to the American people, a distraction from the financial woes that came with the collapse of the United States’ economy, as well as the Second World War, which had not officially started, but the threat of global conflict was already lingering in the ether. To combat the growing sense of disillusionment felt by the American people, Capra sets out to make a film that is, from start to finish, a delightful romp that offers nothing but pure escapism. A lot of this comes from the writing – Kaufman and Moss are considered two of the greatest playwrights in American history for a reason – but there is also something to be said about a film that is truly intrepid when it comes to bringing its core ideas to life, which is where Capra’s filmmaking enters into the conversation. This is a film about a group of people who are firmly in defiance of the status quo, and while it is relatively conventional as far as the visual element goes (looking like just about any other romantic comedy from the era), there are layers to the film that we certainly can appreciate on a much deeper level. Part of this is found in the filmmaking, where Capra is tasked with balancing the humour with the melancholy, both of which are very important. This is not a sad film, but there is a tenderness to it that we find drives a lot of its themes, especially in those smaller moments where it feels somewhat more complex than the run-of-the-mill romances of the era. Capra was a dynamic filmmaker, and every visual choice he made, while subtle, conveys some meaning. There are moments where the camera moves in remarkable ways, focusing on elements that many filmmakers would overlook. Tonally and creatively, You Can’t Take It with You is a very impressive work, and while it isn’t close to being as daring an achievement as we would expect in terms of its execution, the choices that Capra makes are ingenious in their own way and give the film a distinct identity that we can all appreciate in some way.

As cliché as it may be to say, they quite simply don’t make films like You Can’t Take It with You anymore, which is a sign of how different the Hollywood of today was from the version we knew during its Golden Age, when everything was so much more upbeat and wholeheartedly compelling. Capra earned his status as one of the most quietly revolutionary filmmakers of his generation, a director with a unique vision and strong set of principles (both artistic and political – he’s someone whose work doesn’t always receive the credit it deserves for being silently quite radical) made for some brilliant films, of which this is one of the many that warrant our attention. Capra is often cited for some of his more canonical works – the aforementioned It Happened One Night and Mr Smith Goes to Washington are often cited, as are It’s A Wonderful Life and Mr Deeds Goes to Town, all of which are terrific works. No one would argue that this is any better than those – but yet, it’s still woefully underappreciated, since despite accolades and acclaim, very few people seem to talk about it, which could be attributed to the fact that perhaps the message is concealed under layers that may seem impenetrable from a distance, or the possibility that it is a more trivial work. Nevertheless, You Can’t Take It with You is still worth every bit of our time, an eccentric and offbeat comedy that is as daring as it is heartfelt, which is not a combination we see all that often, and especially not nearly ninety years ago, where anything that deviated from conventions was seen as lacking in nuance. It’s a terrific film, and it earns every bit of our affection, especially in those quieter moments where its true meaning emerges, and we see just how wonderfully engaging this film is once we allow ourselves to surrender to its unconventional but delightful charms.