Adam's Rib

Adam and Amanda Bonner are happily married, despite the sparky nature of their relationship. Lawyers each, both are interested in a newspaper report of a woman who shot (but not killed) her husband when she discovered him in the arms of another woman. The Bonner's take differing views of the case and it is no surprise that Adam ends up prosecuting while Amanda is Doris Attinger's defence counsel. With the gloves off in the courtroom with a legal battle of sexual equality, it is no surprise that the conflict and disagreements don't end at the front door and soon it is all kicking off.

The issue of sexual equality may have moved on from where it was in the middle of the last century but this film occasionally hits an interesting point, even if the majority of it is fairly shallow and a bit unconvincing in terms of legal argument. Without really engaging me, the film still held my interest as the story developed and it was fairly enjoyable even if it couldn't settle on whether or not it is a comedy or a courtroom "issue" drama; as it was I didn't think it did either brilliantly but did both well enough to make it work. I did expect more laughs because I thought it was going to be one of the screwball genre, but once I realised that it was more amusing than funny then I was able to settle into it.

One of the main reasons that the film has continued to last down the years is the chemistry between Tracy and Hepburn. Both are convincing as a couple in terms of romance, attrition, chemistry and other aspects of their relationship on screen. Tracy is tetchy and enjoyable but Hepburn is more than a match for him and she does it with style and real humour. Support is good from Holliday as well as Wayne's annoying neighbour. Mainly though it is Tracy and Hepburn's movie and they more than carry it between them.

Overall though this is not quite the classic that I had hoped it would be but it still did enough to make it work today. The courtroom stuff is not as dramatic or as relevant as it may have once been and the comedy is more of the sharp variety than the laugh-out-loud sort; however the chemistry between the lead two keeps it going and makes it worth seeing still.

Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn worked so smoothly together that it's almost difficult to fault their films. Hepburn's admiration for Tracy off-screen is hard to ignore, but she was a character actress first and foremost (and THEN a movie star), and she's deeply in character here and believable. Tracy, on the other hand, took movie-making with a grain of salt--we don't see his indifference, but we do see his casual 'naturalness,' his underplaying. Spencer Tracy overacts at underplaying, mumbling some of his throwaway lines for effect or overlapping Hepburn's dialogue with his. This non-effort actually shows effort, and turns this comedy into an actor's exercise. It's not very funny anyway: married lawyers take opposite sides of a spousal-abuse case. Dated battle-of-the-sexes doesn't give Judy Holliday much to work with (word has it this was her screen-test for "Born Yesterday"). It's all very smart and sophisticated on the surface, but callow at its core. Screenwriters Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin received Oscar nominations for their script, which disintegrates into door-slamming farce. ** from ****

Of the nine films which paired Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn, Adam's Rib is often considered the best. Writers Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin were friends of the famous couple and wrote the film specifically for them. Kate insisted the film be directed by her favorite screen director, George Cukor, who services the brilliant writing and on-screen chemistry with his trademark elegant staging and unobtrusive style. The result is a comedy that remains the best "battle of the sexes" films ever made.

When Doris Attinger (Judy Holliday) discovers her husband in the arms of another woman, she opens fire and is charged with attempted murder. Enter Adam and Amanda Bonner (Tracy and Hepburn), married lawyers whose lives are turned upside down when Adam is assigned to the prosecution. An ardent proponent of women's rights, Amanda decides to represent Doris, claiming that if the sex of the parties on trial were switched, the jury would feel differently. This conflict of interests creates friction in the courtroom as well as the Bonners' home.

Spencer Tracy, with his confident and relaxed screen presence, paints Adam as a man quite comfortable with his wife's force and ambition. But Adam grows upset with Amanda as the media spotlight finds the case and magnifies it into a cause for women's rights. He accuses Amanda with disregard for the law, reminding her that no one, man or woman, has the right to take the law into their own hands, and that Amanda is using the case for her own selfish purposes. The script is careful not to polarize Adam's interests. He reveres the law and has no special affection for Doris' husband. In opposing him, Katherine Hepburn manages to retain her signature strength while also portraying Amanda as a loving wife who fears the damage her marriage may sustain because of the case and its publicity. Amanda alleges that Doris is doomed to an unfair trial because the general public irrationally feels male infidelity is much more permissible than female infidelity.

The courtroom becomes a spectacle when Amanda puts a circus strong-woman on the stand and asks her to lift Adam. Tracy rises to the occasion, with an angry outburst that is empowered by his otherwise calm and restrained performance. Despite their marital bliss before the case, Adam admits that he likes "two sexes" and doesn't care for having a wife who is a "new woman" and a "competitor". This rare outpouring causes Amanda to realize just how personally Adam is taking the trial, and that it could result in their divorce.

Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin deserve special recognition for creating a balanced on-screen battle in what has always been a controversial debate - gender equality. Amanda's plight is shaded by her experiences as a woman, and Adam is presented as a man who admits to always trying to hear her side of the story. That their marriage was a happy one before the trial is an indication of the equality they had achieved together. Amanda is, in fact, equal to Adam in both the career and financial worlds. To create a sparring partner for Amanda, Gordon and Kanin could easily have presented a misogynist, or even a lovable but cantankerous traditionalist. They were wiser to portray Adam as a man who simply refused to see the case as one for gender equality, but for vigilantism.

As directed by George Cukor, Adam's Rib features a great many long takes that play uninterrupted. Even during moments of action, like the scene in which both Bonners are getting dressed for dinner, Cukor utilizes minimal staging and camera movement. The camera points directly across the Bonners' bedroom, with her dressing room off frame left and his off frame right. They shout at each other, poking their heads into the frame, occasionally walking through the frame and back again. And later, when Adam discovers Kip and Amanda together, the ensuing fight is framed similarly, with the camera looking down the apartment hallway, characters popping into frame from the left or right and back again. This isn't to say Cukor doesn't move his camera much. There are several decisive camera movements, but Cukor's sparing use of them, and his tendency to rely more on well-composed master angles gives the film an elegant, traditional Hollywood style. The film also benefits from a lively score by Mikos Rozsa and a catchy Cole Porter tune, "Farewell Amanda". Jean Hagen, unforgettable for her comic turn in Singin' in the Rain, again demonstrates her talent for comedy as the "other woman".

Cukor must have realized that with Tracy and Hepburn on screen, all the camera really had to do was follow them, frame them, and let the sparks fly.

The screenplay and the actors' off-screen romance are gifts to the film. We feel for both of them, and believe in what both are trying to achieve. It is rare that a film about difference and equality plays so fairly to all parties involved, and also rare that such a sensitive subject can retain its comic appeal. But for all the film says about equality, Adam's Rib ultimately serves to remind us that when it comes to Hepburn and Tracy, there is no equal. - Scott Schirmer

Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn make fireworks in this cute film about a well-to-do married couple who both happen to be lawyers. Hepburn is a die-hard Woman's Rights supporter, so when a ditzy lady is charged with shooting her husband after catching him being unfaithful, Kate decides to take her case and defend her. The trouble is, old-fashioned husband Tracy is already penciled in as the prosecuting attorney. Let the Battle of the Sexes begin!

The script sets up a great opportunity to have Tracy and Hepburn sparring with one another during every phase of the trial, as well as at home every night after they've spent each day trying to outwit each other. As a comedy, there aren't any huge belly-laughs, but it's a charming enough little take on the differences between men and women which also manages to make the point that, in many ways, the sexes aren't really all that different when all is said and done.

**** out of ****

Adam's Rib (George Cukor, 1949) is often hailed as the best "battle-of-the-sexes" comedy on celluloid, but it's beset with the same problems as the bulk of these Tracy-Hepburn vehicles: dated social observation that's tricky to navigate today, a lack of laughs and dramatic sequences that are just too heavy. The leads are a blissfully married couple who clash when they take opposing sides in a murder trial: assistant DA Spence leads the prosecution of wronged wife Judy Holliday (who is magnificent), while crusading feminist Kate leaps to her defence. Holliday plugged philandering husband Tom Ewell, you see, then fired wildly around the flinching floozy he was nuzzling up to, Jean Hagen.

The acting is absolutely stunning - universally superb - and there's smart use of newspaper inserts and a puppet show motif, but the material is spotty and chunky, with humour arriving in slabs rather than being weaved through the narrative. Kudos to former stage star David Wayne (he played Og in the smash Broadway version of Finian's Rainbow) for being so formidably irritating as Hepburn's extremely camp confidante and suitor. His reading of Cole Porter's specially adapted song Farewell, Amanda is a rare moment of respite in a teeming sea of annoyance. Hepburn asked her favourite director, Cukor, to favour Holliday in the filming of their scenes and leaked stories to the press about Judy's revelatory performance enraging both the leads. The ploy was designed to land her apprentice the lead in the screen adaptation of Born Yesterday, which she had initiated on stage. It worked - and she took home the Best Actress Oscar the following year.

As for Adam's Rib, it's impressive and memorable but, despite all that, resolutely not a classic.