I’ve got quite the juxtaposition of films this week. First up is one of Katharine Hepburn’s most successful films,
Alice Adams, followed by a monumental flop,
Sylvia Scarlett.
Now in case you don’t know, I’ll outline the tumultuous chronology of Hepburn’s career in the 1930s. Right out of the starting gate, Hepburn was a star. She debuted with
A Bill of Divorcement, followed by the good-but-forgettable
Christopher Strong as well as her first Oscar-winning performance in
Morning Glory.
CLASSIC FILM 101: A Bill of Divorcement (1932) and Morning Glory (1933)
Subsequent to
Morning Glory, Hepburn was a huge star, and in the same year, she acted in
Little Women, which was a monstrous hit and box-office record-breaker.
Quote:
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Much rested on the slender shoulders of Little Women. Hollywood wanted to see if an adapted literary classic could strike box-office gold. Jo March and her sisters nimbly shouldered the load. Directed by George Cukor, this charming 1933 version of Louisa May Alcott's novel won overwhelming support (plus an Oscar for Best Adaption Screenplay). It also looks and sound its best in years via this new digital transfer from restored fine-grain film elements and optical audio tracks. All gawky tomboyishness and spunk, Katharine Hepburn is Jo, the center of the Civil War-era tale of heart and hearth (revisited in 1949 and 1994 versions).
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Unfortunately for Hepburn, the next seven years from 1934 to 1940 would consist of eight flops, including
Sylvia Scarlett.
But more about that later. First, we have to discuss
Alice Adams, a Booth Tarkington story adapted by George Stevens, the cinematographer turned master director. The film co-starred Fred MacMurray and Fred Stone, but that doesn’t matter. Make no mistake about it: This film is all about Katharine Hepburn. For anyone who has seen
Pretty in Pink, if you want to see a better telling of that story and a performance a thousand times the magnitude of Molly Ringwald’s, then watch this.
Hepburn plays the title character Alice Adams, a poor girl who just wants to fit in. When we enter the story, she is trying to pick out a corsage at a local flower shop in preparation for the biggest party of the year. There’s no way she can afford the orchids or the gardenias, so she plays it off to the clerk that she’s dissatisfied and leaves. We, the audience, get to follow, and we see what is my personal favorite shot of the film: Hepburn picking flowers for a homemade corsage, the camera panning and encompassing a sign that reads, “DO NOT PICK THE FLOWERS.” So simple and yet so effective.
Satisfied with her corsage of picked violets, she then gets her [reluctant] brother to be her date for the party. Everybody who’s anybody is attending the party, and Alice has to make an appearance despite having considerably less money than the other guests, despite wearing the same dress as last year, despite having a homemade corsage, and despite having her brother escort her.
The set-up for the party is masterful and the party itself is, as well. Watching her at the party, it’s all you can do not to reach into the screen, take Alice by the shoulders, and tell her that it’s going to be all right. It’s just so heart-wrenching to watch, but at the same time, her performance is so fantastic that you don’t dare look away.
While sitting out the dance, Hepburn kicks her ugly bouquet away in shame. However, her future Prince Charming, played here by Fred MacMurray, notices it on the floor beside her and returns it to her. They proceed to dance and Alice is promptly swept off her feet. Her happiness doesn’t stay long, for when MacMurray finds her brother shooting dice in the back with the band---the black band, mind you---she thinks her chances of being seen as respectable are dashed, so in overdramatic fashion, she has her brother take her home, where she goes right upstairs and cries. As I said, my favorite shot is her picking the flowers in the beginning; however, the shot of her crying, the tears streaking her face while the rain streaks the window, is truly the best shot of the film, and only through the eyes of a former cinematographer can such beauty be captured on the screen.
Although she couldn’t possibly explain why, MacMurray is determined to continue seeing her. Too ashamed to have him see the inside of her house and meet her family, they either go out to eat or sit out on the front porch. That is, until he finally gets her to agree to a formal dinner with her whole family present. The dinner is a disaster, though, and it ends with the two breaking up in a superbly sad scene but done wonderfully by Hepburn. A smile was plastered on her face no matter the circumstances, and here, in what is arguably the worst day of her life, she never stops smiling.
The end of the film was too tacky for my taste (in fact, it was added on later in shooting to give the film a happier, upbeat “fairy tale” ending) but it’s not enough to bring the film down any. It really is a masterpiece. It was nominated for Best Actress (Hepburn lost to Bette Davis, who said later that she believed she didn’t deserve the award and that it should’ve gone to Hepburn) and Best Picture (lost to
Mutiny on the Bounty), and while I would’ve given Hepburn the nod for Best Actress, the worst part is that Stevens wasn’t even nominated for Best Director, an award he not only should’ve been nominated for, but IMO, should’ve won.
Back to the flops:
From 1934 to 1940, Hepburn had a string of flops, the only bright spot being
Alice Adams in 1935.
To quote Hepburn:
“Somehow I just seemed to irritate people no matter what I played.”
The flops included
Spitfire,
The Little Minister,
Break of Hearts,
Sylvia Scarlett,
Mary of Scotland (I can’t understand how this wasn’t well-received considering how fantastic it is),
A Woman Rebels,
Quality Street, and as crazy as it sounds today,
Bringing Up Baby.
Her 1937 film
Stage Door wasn’t a flop, but it was no
Alice Adams, either (I actually think it’s better, but that’s for another day).
The flop of interest today is
Sylvia Scarlett, which re-teamed Hepburn and George Cukor for the third time, the first teaming
A Bill of Divorcement, the second
Little Women. They were also teamed up for the first of four films they would make with Cary Grant. A former circus acrobat, Grant had been acting for years but had yet to become the star he would eventually turn out to be. Here, he played a smooth-talking Cockney con-man named Jimmy Monkley, who meets up with a man and his son---or at least, who he thinks is his son. In reality, the boy named Sylvester Scarlett is in actuality Sylvia Scarlett, played by Katharine Hepburn.
As a child, Hepburn would always play with her three brothers, and being the tomboy she was, decided that being a girl was, to quote her, “a bore,” so in the summer of her eleventh year, she cut off her hair and called herself Jimmy.
Eighteen years later, she found herself once again masquerading as a boy. The story follows Hepburn and her father as they flee to England from France, where her father is to be charged for embezzlement. Already poor, the two lose their last hope for money: French lace her father is attempting to smuggle. Aboard the ship that will take them away from France, Grant rats them out to customs, and as soon as they’re about to confront him, before they know it, the three of them decide to become partners.
The rest of the film consists of Hepburn trying not to let on she’s a woman, despite falling in love with a man, played here by Brian Aherne. They get sick of the con game so they team up with a maid who Hepburn’s father falls in love with and become a performing troupe.
It’s not the greatest film by any means, but it’s very underrated and certainly deserved more praise upon release.
To quote Hepburn:
“It was meant to be funny. Trouble was nobody laughed. Today the movie is something of a cult classic. Where were you, audience, when we needed you?”
Well, better late than never.
Sylvia Scarlett is one of the best examples of what I consider to be a hidden gem.
CLASSIC FILM 101: Alice Adams (1935) and Sylvia Scarlett (1935) 
) but then with a film like Mary of Scotland, it's a totally different Katharine Hepburn.
