It's rare that you can say about a film from Hollywood's golden age - further, a beloved family classic - that you have no idea what it's about. This isn't strictly true, it's just you are afraid that the film's meaning is less progressive that it appears. The hero of HARVEY, Elwood P. Dowd, is a kind of Holy Fool, a Prince Myshkin from the sticks, a man who forsakes sexual pleasure, was strangely attached to his mother, who doesn't do any conventional work, but spreads radiant joy, helping the marginalised, befriending the lonely, bringing couples together. It's not too far fetched to see the folksy farce of HARVEY as some kind of religious allegory.
This isn't, of course, a problem - people can make films about what they like, and HARVEY's pieties (if such they be) are inclusive, and full of (often risque) wit and darkness. It's just that HARVEY's reputation never suggested such Dostoevskian ambitions. If you feel a bit queasy about being lectured, the film luckily boasts other pleasures. This is James Stewart's last major performance as a (relatively) uncomplicated good guy: from here on in it would be the troubling ambiguities of Hitchcock and Mann. It is not a dominating star turn; Stewart generously enters into the ensemble spirit of the piece. Dowd's sheer goodness might be a little wearing, but Stewart subtly suggests the darker, jittery, alcoholic side of the character, whose benevolence masks a life of failure and impotence; and just as much as representing Christian fellowship, he can stand for the marginalised, the imaginative, those who refuse the bourgeois grind, even if this is easy to do when you've inherited a fortune.
Although the supporting cast needed some more compelling actors (eg William Demerest), they are amusing enough - Josephine Hull, one of the murderous aunts of ARSENIC AND OLD LACE, has the film's most difficult role, which is strongly reminiscent of Tennessee Williams: an elderly widow/spinster matron clinging desperately to respectablity, passed over her rightful inheritance, stuck with an embarrassing brother/son on whom she's dependent, and a spinster daughter she can't marry off, in a social ambition ruined by Dowd's fausses passes.
This situation, understandably, brings her teetering to madness, and if her committing Elwood seems monstrous, then so is the burden of a single mother forced to run such a household. Hull is also a practised farceur, and suffers untold indignities with much hilarity.
Other familiar faces from old-school farce include the incompetent judge ogling the wealthy widow; the security guard at the hospital, whose essential decency explodes into crude gangster-like violence, and Dr. Chumley, the wealthy doctor paralysed in a loveless marriage and his own ego, who is offered salvation by Harvey, but misses the point. Even the straight couple are less icky than most, given some splendidly barbed dialogue to fling at each other.
If I overemphasise the acting, it is because HARVEY is based on a play, and this is the film's drawback. Koster directs with brisk fluidity, but he lacks Hawks' ability to turn dramatic, theatrical dialogue into a formal element of the film's overall design, and so we're left with many grand talky set-pieces. The resolution is a little rushed, and the whole thing just needs a little air. But the dramatic framework also has its advantages, such as the expert mechanics of farce that produce some cherishable sequences, including the mix-up over which sibling is going to committed.
This isn't, of course, a problem - people can make films about what they like, and HARVEY's pieties (if such they be) are inclusive, and full of (often risque) wit and darkness. It's just that HARVEY's reputation never suggested such Dostoevskian ambitions. If you feel a bit queasy about being lectured, the film luckily boasts other pleasures. This is James Stewart's last major performance as a (relatively) uncomplicated good guy: from here on in it would be the troubling ambiguities of Hitchcock and Mann. It is not a dominating star turn; Stewart generously enters into the ensemble spirit of the piece. Dowd's sheer goodness might be a little wearing, but Stewart subtly suggests the darker, jittery, alcoholic side of the character, whose benevolence masks a life of failure and impotence; and just as much as representing Christian fellowship, he can stand for the marginalised, the imaginative, those who refuse the bourgeois grind, even if this is easy to do when you've inherited a fortune.
Although the supporting cast needed some more compelling actors (eg William Demerest), they are amusing enough - Josephine Hull, one of the murderous aunts of ARSENIC AND OLD LACE, has the film's most difficult role, which is strongly reminiscent of Tennessee Williams: an elderly widow/spinster matron clinging desperately to respectablity, passed over her rightful inheritance, stuck with an embarrassing brother/son on whom she's dependent, and a spinster daughter she can't marry off, in a social ambition ruined by Dowd's fausses passes.
This situation, understandably, brings her teetering to madness, and if her committing Elwood seems monstrous, then so is the burden of a single mother forced to run such a household. Hull is also a practised farceur, and suffers untold indignities with much hilarity.
Other familiar faces from old-school farce include the incompetent judge ogling the wealthy widow; the security guard at the hospital, whose essential decency explodes into crude gangster-like violence, and Dr. Chumley, the wealthy doctor paralysed in a loveless marriage and his own ego, who is offered salvation by Harvey, but misses the point. Even the straight couple are less icky than most, given some splendidly barbed dialogue to fling at each other.
If I overemphasise the acting, it is because HARVEY is based on a play, and this is the film's drawback. Koster directs with brisk fluidity, but he lacks Hawks' ability to turn dramatic, theatrical dialogue into a formal element of the film's overall design, and so we're left with many grand talky set-pieces. The resolution is a little rushed, and the whole thing just needs a little air. But the dramatic framework also has its advantages, such as the expert mechanics of farce that produce some cherishable sequences, including the mix-up over which sibling is going to committed.