Stewart Hit His Stride in ‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’ 1939

James Stewart as Jefferson Smith, who's down but not out, in 1939's comedy-drama,
 "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

I never watched Mr. Smith Goes to Washington until 2025 for evolving reasons. First, I was not very political in my younger years, so the subject matter didn't interest me. Later, when I did become more invested in politics, I thought a Frank Capra movie on the workings of Washington, D.C. would be too sentimental and clichéd. Finally, after the last ten years of non-stop US political turmoil, I decided to seek comfort in Mr. Smith’s political journey.

I was taken aback watching Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. While there was sentiment in this cinema classic, it is heartfelt. What really surprised me was how strongly the political corruption was portrayed, and how powerful still is Mr. Smith's disillusionment with the system. The latter is especially so when he collapses on the senate floor, and only then is there a positive resolution. 

In Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’s last act, the naïve senator is railroaded by corrupt politicians, and it is great story telling. While some of the David and Goliath aspects of Smith and his young supporters versus the aging fat cats might be considered corny, there have been similar real life incidents in recent US election cycles that show dirty tricks haven't changed all that much: biased press inciting the masses, running the opposition literally off the road, and treating the opposition with aggressive strong arm tactics. 

James Stewart and Jean Arthur make a marvelous team in 1939's
"Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

The political story of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is surprisingly in-depth and adult. The scene where Washington insider Clarissa Saunders explains the cycle of creating a bill to Jefferson Smith is snappy and priceless. The opening, with a death of a politician, the first concern is who will replace him! Young Mr. Smith’s tour of the Washington monuments might make you feel downright patriotic. The scene where Smith is thrown under the bus in the Senate to deflect blame for corruption feels very current. And when Jefferson goes to lick his wounds at the Lincoln Memorial, with Saunders touched by Smith’s tears, it is genuinely affecting. So rare for an actor of this era to show his emotions, but that was one of James Stewart’s strengths as an actor. And of course, Stewart’s great monologue, where he filibusters to make his voice heard, and innocence believed. This set piece is very powerful, which we just witnessed the power of a filibuster in real life, recently.

James Stewart gives his heart and soul to the role of Jefferson Smith in 1939's
comedy-drama, "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

The entire cast of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is terrific. In the title role as Jefferson Smith, this is the embodiment of James Stewart's screen persona. Director Frank Capra cast him because he immediately saw that Stewart’s small town genuineness was perfect for everyman Smith. Jimmy is authentic throughout, as his character is put through the wringer. Movie making in 1939 was considered the peak year in film. In any other year, Stewart would have won the Best Actor Oscar. He got a makeup award the next year for The Philadelphia Story. But hey, that guy who played Rhett Butler lost out in ’39, too!

Jean Arthur plays pragmatic yet spirited reporter Clarissa Saunders, who comes to
 believe in James Stewart's new senator, in 1939's "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

Jean Arthur plays the experienced, pragmatic reporter and performs in an understated style, rather than the quirky fusspots she later played. Jean’s nervous energy plays well against Stewart’s laid-back demeanor. Arthur’s Clarissa Saunders has a subtle character trajectory, going from cynical disbelief of innocent Smith to admiring his integrity, to falling in love with him. Jean plays each phase beautifully without a false note.

Frank Capra’s perennial favorites are here: This is Jean Arthur’s third time as a Capra leading lady; there’s Thomas Mitchell as Arthur’s fellow reporter; H.B. Warner as a politician; Edward Arnold, perfectly cast as charismatic but corrupt businessman named James Taylor; and Beulah Bondi’s first time out as Jimmy’s Ma. Stewart appeared in three Capra film, and like the later It’s a Wonderful Life, he's serenaded with Auld Langsyne. 

Beulah Bondi is once again Jimmy Stewart's loving Ma in 1939's comedy-drama,
"Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

Capra always had marvelous ensemble casts in his films, this may be the best: Guy Kibbee as the pliable politician who surprises by picking Stewart’s Jefferson Smith as the next senator; Harry Carey, so wryly expressive as the president of the Senate; Eugene Pallette, very funny as Chick, who’s in charge of herding Smith; and best of all, Claude Rains as Senator Joseph Paine, who was best friends with Smith’s father, but is now conflicted between corruption and conscience. Rains gets to run the gamut in his juicy supporting role: subtle, grand, gentle, glib, charming, rotten—everything! My only criticism with Claude is that his hair was dyed a distractingly snow white. At almost 50, Rains was still 20 years older than Stewart, believable enough as a contemporary of Smith’s father. Finally, look for a very young Jack Carson as a reporter.

Whose idea was it to dye Claude Rains hair snow white at 50 for his role in
1939's comedy-drama, "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington?"

There was a fair amount of location shooting for the era in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and the images are powerful. In particular, those of James Stewart gazing at Abraham Lincoln—two lanky icons! This entire sequence evokes some powerful feelings. The meticulous reproduction of the senate chamber is striking, a most impressive and convincing set. The script is filled with memorable lines, several worth repeating today! Sidney Buchman and Myles Connolly were Mr. Smith’s screenwriters.

Two icons gaze at each other in 1939's "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

I love this scene, where Jimmy Stewart looks on in awe at the Lincoln Memorial,
in 1939's "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

At just over two hours, Mr. Smith sags just a bit in the middle. The Jean Arthur and Thomas Mitchell quasi-romance could have been trimmed a bit. And that cutesy bit with Stewart’s Smith continually dropping his hat in front of Senator Paine’s glamorous daughter is a bit much.

Frank Capra, an Italian immigrant who hailed America, created a great movie with Mr. Smith, about how the fight for democracy is never-ending. While the homespun aspects of this story might put some viewers off, the bigger picture of Capra’s storytelling still resonates deeply. Even for those who call his work “Capra-corn” or naively populist, well, the man had his point of view. And Frank Capra expressed it skillfully in his work.

James Stewart with director Frank Capra at the Lincoln Memorial
for a scene in 1939's "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

The machinations of monopolies, big business buying politicians, and dissenters getting crushed, all seems very familiar and timely, sad to say. To get his message across, Capra wisely didn’t pin identifying labels on the crooked politicians and money men.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington was promoted and hailed as Capra’s best work in 1939. For once, the Hollywood hyperbole was correct. This indeed was Frank’s last film that was both critically and commercially successful. He had more money makers later, but very few critical hits. One film that was underrated at the time later became his signature film, It’s a Wonderful Life.

"Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" was indeed director Frank Capra's greatest hit!

Here’s my look at Frank Capra’s American version of A Christmas Carol, It’s a Wonderful Life: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2016/12/its-wonderful-life-still-has-wonder-70.html

And here’s Jean Arthur, where this time she’s the idealistic politician, visiting war-torn Berlin, in Billy Wilder’s comedy-drama, A Foreign Affair: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2023/05/billy-wilders-adult-foreign-affair-1948.html

 

Jimmy Stewart was perfectly cast as the idealistic new senator, Jefferson Smith,
in 1939's Frank Capra classic comedy-drama, "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

Kate Hepburn’s Signature Role: Tracy Lord in ‘The Philadelphia Story’

 

Katharine Hepburn as Tracy Samantha Lord in her 1940 comeback,
MGM's "The Philadelphia Story."

I am not a great Katharine Hepburn fan, though I have admired aspects of her life and career. Aside from being slightly allergic to The Great Kate, I am also not a fan of drawing room comedies. I just watched 1940’s The Philadelphia Story for the first time. As I approach 66 years, I’m trying to make up for missing many classic movies, despite considering myself a life-long film fan.

So I watched The Philadelphia Story mainly out of curiosity, since this was hailed as Kate's great comeback. I can now see why. Katharine Hepburn arguably played her greatest role as Tracy Lord. It is the perfect distillation of the Katharine Hepburn persona, sparkling as the champagne Tracy imbibes too much of the night before her wedding.

Katharine Hepburn with frequent collaborator, director George Cukor, on the set
of MGM's "The Philadelphia Story."

Like a lot of classic stars, I first saw Katharine Hepburn in latter day movies in my younger years of the '70s and '80s. Hepburn did some fine work later in Suddenly, Last Summer, Long Day's Journey into Night, and The Lion in Winter; with her other films, I was averse to the sentimental Kate of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?, On Golden Pond, and those last TV movies where she played her persona self to the point of self-parody. Most of her '30s work I find unwatchable, though she was great in Alice Adams, Stage Door, and a few others. Katharine Hepburn was often badly cast or chose badly. No surprise that she was among the film stars labeled box office poison in 1938.

On Broadway, Katharine Hepburn got BIG top billing
in "The Philadelphia Story."

For Katharine Hepburn's film comeback, she got second billing
in 1940's "The Philadelphia Story."

The oft-told backstory in a nutshell: after a string of bombs and even a couple of last films that got good reviews, the public and critics finally had their fill of a flighty/eccentric/haughty Hepburn. Kate was in dire need a comeback. So, Hepburn hired Philip Barry to write a play for her. Based on an incident involving a socialite friend of Barry’s, with Hepburn’s prodding, the character became more like Kate! She found the backing to get Barry’s The Philadelphia Story on Broadway and it was a hit, with future film stars Joseph Cotten and Van Heflin. Kate got Howard Hughes to buy the film rights for her so she could take it to MGM, with herself as part of the package. The result was a smash for film version of The Philadelphia Story, followed up by a studio contract for Hepburn.

After a string of film flops, Kate Hepburn was among the stars labelled "box office poison." Kate was down but not out, when she came back in "The Philadelphia Story."

The big question was why didn't this commercial and critical hit get Kate a second Oscar? Well, the competition was tough that year, with Bette Davis in The Letter and Joan Fontaine’s breakthrough in Rebecca. Yet, it was Ginger Rogers who won for Kitty Foyle. At the time, Rogers was very popular with fans and the industry, making a smooth transition from musical to comedy/dramatic star. Kate was making a comeback from Siberia. However, I think Katharine Hepburn's vehicle holds up much better and is better-remembered today. 

The MGM production is top-drawer: George Cukor directing, Joseph L. Mankiewicz producing, script by Donald Ogden Stewart, a snazzy score by Franz Waxman, with Kate radiantly photographed by Joseph Ruttenberg, in gowns by Adrian, and hair styled by Sydney Guilaroff. Oh—and Cary Grant and James Stewart as Hepburn’s leading men. Plus, a great supporting cast, including Ruth Hussey. The resulting film of The Philadelphia Story is studio era style at its finest.

It didn't hurt that Katharine Hepburn had two popular new stars in Cary Grant
& James Stewart as her leading men, in her comeback, "The Philadelphia Story."

Katharine Hepburn’s comeback was the greatest of those stars fighting the “box office poison” label. Joan Crawford countered hers by taking on the smaller, but juicy villain role in The Women. Marlene Dietrich took a break from moody fashion plate posturing to perform in the raucous western Destry Rides Again. With Katharine Hepburn, she stepped down her pedestal to become the more accessible Kate. But really, the change was not all that drastic from her previous ‘30s persona, just recalibrated to be more generally appealing. It reminds me of how Doris Day’s image makeover in Pillow Talk was considered such a departure for her. Except for the emphasis on glamour and sexuality, Pillow Talk wasn’t that much different than the previous year’s Teacher’s Pet.

With Katharine Hepburn’s Tracy, she is essentially a heroine, but a judgmental one. And on the eve of her wedding to a respectable dullard, some champagne and flirtatious frivolity makes her realize that she’s only human, too.

Cary Grant and James Stewart do fine work, despite Kate's first preferences for Metro’s kings, Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy. Grant had polished his persona as “Cary Grant” perfectly by this time and it plays wonderfully in this romantic comedy, as C.K. Dexter Haven. Though Dexter has a drinking problem, he scolds Tracy for not being more understanding. That attitude obviously doesn’t play well today. Ironically, Hepburn would soon be an understanding companion to alcoholic Spencer Tracy! Aside from needling Kate’s Tracy to come off her pedestal, Cary’s Dexter obviously still adores her. Their banter is razor sharp and witty.

Cary Grant as C.K. Dexter Haven in 1940's "The Philadelphia Story."

Stewart, after his breakout year in 1939, entered the ‘40s as a boyish leading man with great appeal. As down to earth reporter Mike Connor, who becomes enchanted by Tracy, James Stewart is just fine. He’s charmingly skeptical and goofily besotted by champagne and this society girl. I do think his Oscar win for The Philadelphia Story is a makeup award for missing out for ‘39s Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, as did Jimmy himself. But hey, Clark lost that year for his signature role, Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind!

Is James Stewart wishing for his Oscar in "The Philadelphia Story?"

Ruth Hussey is a sardonic delight as photographer Liz Imbrie, who accompanies Stewart’s reporter to cover the society wedding of the year. Hussey is expert with the comic lines, but also imbues certain lines about Stewart’s Mike that are touchingly wistful.  She won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination for her intelligent, modern style and holding her own with star Hepburn.

Ruth Hussey was Oscar-nominated & James Stewart won the Oscar, as visiting magazine media, to cover the society wedding of the year,
in 1940's "The Philadelphia Story."

There are a number of clever, fun touches in The Philadelphia Story, thanks to screenwriter Stewart’s script and George Cukor’s smart, stylish directing. An example is that brilliant and brief setup, where Tracy and Dexter split up in the film’s opening scene on their front steps.

Love the opening scene of 1940's "The Philadelphia Story!"

Tracy Lord became a basic boilerplate of the type of women Hepburn would play in her best mid-career vehicles. Kate would play strong-minded women who by the finale, were softened by love. This was much like the character arc Rosalind Russell would play in her career woman roles. This would satisfy most mainstream audiences and the audiences who loved such spirited female stars could believe that transformation was just to appease her leading man’s character. Such was life on film in Hollywood’s golden age!

There’s a lot to like about the film adaptation of The Philadelphia Story, but you will love Katharine Hepburn at her leading lady best, adored by three co-stars!

I love this romantic shot of Grant's Dexter finding Hepburn's Tracy asleep in the car, after imbibing too much champagne, in 1940's "The Philadelphia Story."

Here’s Kate in her second outing with Spencer Tracy in a suspense drama, 1942’s Keeper of the Flame:

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2025/05/tracy-hepburn-team-in-rare-drama-keeper.html

And here is my look at Katharine Hepburn in her only villainous role, as Aunt Violet in Tennessee Williams’1959 Suddenly, Last Summer, with Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift:

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2018/03/suddenly-last-summer-1959.html

 

Stanwyck’s Fatal Phone Call: ‘Sorry, Wrong Number’ 1948

Barbara Stanwyck, A+ in an atypical role, as a weak, wealthy woman, who overhears
a plan for murder, in 1948's film noir suspense film, "Sorry, Wrong Number."

*Spoiler alerts ahead*

The 1948 movie version of Sorry, Wrong Number caused some criticism with some critics and film fans at the time—and even thereafter. It was adapted from an instant classic radio play by Lucille Fletcher. The star was Agnes Moorehead as a rich hypochondriac who overhears a phone conversation of a plot to commit murder that very night. It then turns out she is to be the victim! The radio play was a one-character show, offering a tour de force for Moorehead. 

When Paramount and Hal Wallis snapped up the film rights, casting a star name was standard to carry a movie. I think a number of mature actresses could have been great in the role, but Hal picked one of his favorites, Barbara Stanwyck.

The gradual unraveling of Leona Stevenson when she realizes that she is to be a
 murder victim is superbly played by Barbara Stanwyck in "Sorry, Wrong Number."

Since then, there’s been a bit of a bias against the movie version, favoring the radio play. It goes something like this: Hollywood buys the rights of the half hour play, casts a big movie star and pads it out to 90 minutes. But the play is far superior, in less time, don’t you know. This is why I never bothered to see the film version of Sorry, Wrong Number until recently.

Agnes Moorehead, who originated the role of Leona Stevenson
for radio, in "Sorry, Wrong Number."

I get the criticism, but I still prefer the film. I'm not of the school that Agnes Moorehead was robbed and that the movie version was watered down because it was fleshed out to 90 minutes. (Playwright Fletcher also wrote the movie screenplay). Aggie was a great actress, but listening to her become increasingly hysterical, with her naturally querulous voice escalating, was more grating than great, for me. Agnes won much praise for her supporting scenes as a nympho neurotic in Dark Passage the year before, but Moorehead’s few scenes were plenty for me. I can’t imagine 90 minutes of Agnes’ overstated shrillness front and center. I much preferred Barbara Stanwyck’s contrasting understatement. The back story brought Sorry, Wrong Number to just shy of 90 minutes, which was just right, typical for a noir thriller.

Barbara Stanwyck was a no-nonsense woman who usually played strong characters, is quite good in the role of an unsympathetic, spoiled daddy's girl. Stanwyck's innate likability makes Leona Stevenson more empathetic, despite the fact the character is basically a royal pain. Stanwyck was one of the acting greats of her era and goes from imperious to insecure to incoherent with fear and helplessness, all without overacting. 

By the finale of 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number," Barbara Stanwyck's spoiled
rich matron is at the end of her tether--and soon, her life!

The movie is filled out with flashbacks of Leona and her bought and paid for husband Henry's relationship. There, the tough side of Stanwyck as Leona fits Barbara like a glove. Their courtship and relationship is skillfully depicted, especially as the marriage deteriorates. Henry wants to make his own way, working for her father, while the father and daughter both want a docile pet. This causes Henry to eventually take drastic action, as he gets mixed up with unsavory characters that end up calling in to collect on their favors to him. Henry has to take drastic action, putting a hit out on his wife.

A flashback scene of the woman used to getting what she wants is more familiar
 Barbara Stanwyck territory, in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number."

The scenes of Barbara’s deluxe lifestyle is intermingled with her father’s crude depiction of wealth and the drug dealing criminals husband Henry gets mixed up with, which is depicted in jarring film noir style.

The cast is terrific, from Stanwyck, down to Ed Begley, Sr. playing her tough dad, to William Conrad as a chilling baddie, and Ann Richards as Henry's good-hearted former girlfriend. Burt Lancaster is well-cast, since he could be strong or shady, though this isn’t the kind of role that makes for a great leading man. A bit like when Kirk Douglas played Barbara Stanwyck’s even weaker bought husband in 1946’s The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Both Burt and Kirk soon got away from supporting film divas as weasels and driving in their own movie vehicles.

Burt Lancaster, in one of his early roles, as the trophy husband for rich girl
Barbara Stanwyck in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number."

The film version of Sorry, Wrong Number is extremely stylish, right from the opening credits, and you are sucked right in. At the end, as the noisy city train roars by, when Leona is killed in her luxury apartment, is another statement of lifestyles juxtaposed against one another.

The 1948 film version of "Sorry, Wrong Number" is stylish suspense right from
the opening credits!

Sorry, Wrong Number has had various TV versions starring such diverse actors as Mildred Natwick, Shelley Winters, and Loni Anderson! Geraldine Page would have been great as the high-strung heiress in the ‘60s or early ‘70s.

The direction by Anatole Litvak is strong, and he would direct Olivia de Havilland in The Snake Pit the same year. The cinematography by Sol Polito is perfect for a film noir suspense film, as stylish as his work in 1940’s The Letter with Bette Davis. The score by Franz Waxman is powerful and dramatic, elevating the suspense. Edith Head, a designer fave of Stanwyck’s, heightens the storytelling with Barbara’s gowns depicting youth and wealth in the flashback scenes, and her expensive but fussy-looking dressing gown as the bedridden matron.

Barbara Stanwyck as the younger Leona, dressed in soft ermine, against a childhood
portrait of herself, in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number."

The main set, with Leona’s whining following all the way down the winding stairs, past the servants’ rooms, to the foyer, and the kitchen, all depicting an expensive lifestyle, but no signs of life.

In the finale, in true noir style, the married couple let their guard down during the final phone call. But it’s too late, the plan is put into action, and the chilling final line is the title of this movie!

Here’s my look at the more charming side of Barbara Stanwyck, in 1945’s holiday favorite, Christmas in Connecticut: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2017/12/christmas-in-connecticut-1945.html

 

Interesting moment in 1948's "Sorry, Wrong Number," when Barbara Stanwyck's spoiled rich woman catches herself in a rare moment of seeing her actual self.