The Hepburn Project: 47 Films, From the Beginning

Katharine Hepburn: Dressed for Stage & Screen is in its final days at the Frick—plan to stop in one more time (always free for members!) before it closes January 12 to say farewell to this fascinating look at the clothes that helped Hepburn create indelible characters.

It was over a year ago that I called colleagues at the Kent State University Museum to talk to them about bringing this exhibition to Pittsburgh. Shortly after that, I began what I personally called “The Hepburn Project”—an attempt to watch her filmography in chronological order—to get a sense of the trajectory of her career, immerse myself in her characters, and, when possible, see the costumes featured in the exhibition. I confess, with some embarrassment, that even with a year to complete the task, I’ve only made it through 30 of the 47 films listed on her Wikipedia filmography. (Twenty-seven of those I watched in chronological order—all were watched within the last year, some, of course, were repeat viewings of classic films I had seen before.) This does not include her 8 films for television.

I promise I won’t talk individually about all 30 films, but I will make some generalizations and some highly personal recommendations. Shall I start at the beginning?

1932 was the year of Hepburn’s first film, A Bill of Divorcement. It was directed by George Cukor, who became her lifelong friend and went on to direct eight of her feature films and two of her films for television. Of her performance in A Bill of Divorcement, producer David O. Selznick recalled the audience’s response during a preview, “…you could almost feel, and you could definitely hear, the excitement in the audience. It was one of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had. In those few simple feet of film, a new star was born.” ¹



Hepburn was acting with seasoned professionals, including John Barrymore and Billie Burke, but it’s one of those early films in which the plot hasn’t aged well. The action revolves around the remarriage of the mother of Hepburn’s character—a remarriage that is possible because of a new law that allowed women to divorce husbands who were mentally incompetent. Barrymore, as the father, has been institutionalized for “shell shock” for years. He escapes on Christmas Eve, perfect timing to throw the family into confusion. Hepburn plays a character type that will become a specialty for her: a thoroughly modern, outspoken woman with intellectual and creative gifts. (In this film, her character enjoys composing music.) For me, the unhappiest part of the film was the association of creative personalities with instability. It turns out that insanity runs in the family, and, once Hepburn’s character is reunited with her father, she decides she’d better not get married and risk passing it on to yet another generation. Instead she will stay home and compose music with Dad. 

Howard Greer (American, 1896–1974). Costume for "Stella Surrege" in The Lake, stage production, 1934. KSUM 2010.12.53

1933’s Christopher Strong has her playing a pilot and adventurer. Although the costuming credit for the film goes to Howard Greer (the designer of the dazzling wedding dress we have in the exhibition, which Hepburn wore for her stage performance of The Lake), the most famous costume in the movie (literally a costume) was designed by Walter Plunkett. His gold lamé moth costume, fitting for Hepburn’s flyer to wear, was heavy and uncomfortable, and even heated up under the hot studio lights (a lining was added to help prevent burns!). It’s truly unforgettable, and I thought it was the best part of the movie. Who can blame Sir Christopher Strong (played by Colin Clive) for staring?
 

Unfortunately, once again Hepburn’s independent, articulate, and accomplished character (who has had no time in her life for romance) has an unhappy ending. An affair with Clive’s character comes to a tragic end. It seems that in 1930s films, the audience is fascinated by the modern characters that Hepburn plays, but uncomfortable with the idea of unconventional choices leading to happiness.

Later in 1933, Hepburn plays another spirited, creative type, Eva Lovelace, in Morning Glory.  The role garners Hepburn her first Oscar for Best Actress. Her character is, fittingly, a young actress—trying to navigate the New York theater world and dealing with the challenges of poverty and romance. Morning Glory explores the difficulties of being a female performer and includes references to alcoholism and premarital sex, but ends on a more positive note, with Hepburn’s character realizing that she must assess the costs that stardom might take on her personal life.

Walter Plunkett designed the costumes for 1933’s Little Women. For many people, Katharine Hepburn remains the quintessential Jo March. (I’ll have to go see Greta Gerwig’s new version and see what I think.) Plunkett cleverly aged the fabrics and had the three actresses share clothes, to give some authenticity to the onscreen depiction of the four March sisters.

There are a number of these early films that I found simply odd—as though the studio was wrestling with how to present Hepburn’s unconventional charms. Spitfire, from 1934. has her playing a sort of spiritual-attuned country girl. Break of Hearts from 1935 has her playing a composer (again, educated, articulate, and pursuing her own dreams). It was an unsuccessful film, but I enjoyed a scene in which the young Constance Dane (played by Hepburn) is invited for a fancy, seductive dinner at her future husband’s apartment. (Future husband played by Charles Boyer.) There are some spectacular clothes in this film, but a both unconvincing and overly melodramatic plot involving marriage, jealousy, alcoholism, and eventually reunion. 

Walter Plunket (American,1902–1982). Costume for “Babbie” in The Little Minister, RKO, 1934. KSUM 2010.12.1a-d

The Little Minister from 1934 is worth singling out simply because the peasant costume featured in the exhibition is as much a star as Hepburn. She wears it for the majority of the film—which is a semi-cute romance, in which the little minister of the title falls for Hepburn, thinking she is the wrong sort of woman, when actually she is a kind of female Robin Hood, living a perfectly respectable life, but sneaking around in disguise doing good deeds.

Hepburn’s first collaboration with Cary Grant is in 1935’s Sylvia Scarlett, a movie I quite liked when I first stumbled on it years ago, although not everyone agrees with me. It involves cross dressing and Hepburn passing as a young man, and it has some fun with the ideas of physical attraction and chemistry perhaps not being a completely binary proposition. Interestingly, Cary Grant is not the film’s romantic lead. Or at least not for Hepburn’s character.

A Woman Rebels, from 1936, I found to be a nice surprise. Once again Hepburn is an unconventional character. Here, romantically headstrong, she discovers too late that the man she has fallen in love and had a child with is married. Through a series of tragic coincidences, she is able to raise her daughter as her niece; although she refuses to marry the man she later loves in fear that the discovery of her past would jeopardize his future. Along the way, she becomes a journalist and founds a magazine. There are twists and turns, but eventually things work out. Finally, perhaps, her characters are earning more than sympathy, but also respect, and a chance at happiness.

Muriel King (American, 1900–1907). Costume for “Terry Randall” in Stage Door, RKO, 1937. KSUM 2010.12.2ab

I first saw Stage Door (1937) when I was around 12 years old. I think it was a Saturday afternoon, and even though it was an old, black and white movie, it had the power to completely pull me in. I think perhaps it was because the story is about a group of young women, aspiring actresses, living in a New York boarding house together while they try to make their way. It’s a great ensemble cast—Hepburn is joined by Ginger Rogers, Lucille Ball, Eve Arden, Ann Miller, and more. (At the time, it was a revelation for me to see Lucille Ball not playing “Lucy.”) I think something about that group of young women connected with me at that age, and it had me rooted to the couch (in those days before the convenience of streaming).  Like so many people, I remember the famous line, “The calla lilies are in bloom again…such a strange flower…” It wasn’t until working on this exhibition that I realized that line comes from one of Hepburn’s earlier performances in the play The Lake. Here, you can see the famous scene, and at the Frick (until January 12) you can see the dress.

Hepburn paired with Grant on four films, three of them right in a row—Bringing Up Baby and Holiday from 1938 and The Philadelphia Story from 1940. It’s hard to be brief about such fun films—but I’ll try. Bringing up Baby is a screwball masterpiece. Watching this again (for the third or fourth time?), I was struck by the perfection of its intricate, zany plot. I was sad to learn that the author of the original story Hagar Wilde was largely unrecognized. ² The Philadelphia Story is a perennial favorite of mine—smart dialogue and great acting. (You can learn more about it on this blog post.) For anyone who is curious about Cary Grant’s acrobatic background, Holiday provides a couple of fun and unexpected scenes of him tumbling. Holiday, like The Philadelphia Story, is based on a Philp Barry play and has a more modern romantic energy in its relationships. Other films I want to quickly note:

Woman of the Year (1942): While the chemistry in this first film with Spencer Tracy is marvelous, I was terribly disappointed in the details of her characterization. A multi-lingual, sophisticated political affairs journalist, Hepburn’s character is truly clueless when it comes to parenting. Beyond clueless really. She adopts a refugee child and doesn’t realize she can’t leave him home alone? Really? She also can’t cook. So, the marvelous costumes by Adrian and the great dialogue with Tracy were marred for me by the stereotype of what it means to be a working woman. I suppose I should be happy that in 1942 they were writing parts for multilingual female political correspondents.

Without Love (1945): Another pairing with Tracy and this one I found surprisingly charming. If you like rom-coms, you might enjoy this lesser-known film, in which the widowed Hepburn rents her basement to Tracy and they decide to marry “without love.”

Undercurrent (1945): There are a few instances of Hepburn moving into less familiar territory, and this noir with Robert Taylor is certainly one of them. I enjoyed this, particularly when Robert Mitchum shows up later in the film.

The African Queen (1949): Many people’s favorite Hepburn film. Still thoroughly enjoyable, and I’ll confess the older I get the more I appreciate interesting lead characters that are over 35. (She and Humphrey Bogart are both in their 40s in this film.)

On Golden Pond (1978): I expected that on re-watching I would find this sentimental and dated. I didn’t. It holds up well and Hepburn’s character is marvelous. It’s a lovely elegy to marriage and a film about family and aging that doesn’t end up at a funeral.

Alice Adams, Mary of Scotland, Quality Street, Keeper of the Flame, Stage Door Canteen, Dragon Seed, Sea of Grass, Song of Love, State of the Union, Adam’s Rib, I’ve seen them too. Ask me about them the next time you see me at the museum. 

Katharine Hepburn: Dressed for Stage & Screen is on view at The Frick Art Museum through January 12, 2020. Purchase tickets here.