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This post is part of the Summer under the Stars Blogathon held by Journeys in Classic Film and Musings of a Classic Film Addict.
"In this world, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant. Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant."
So said Elwood P. Dowd, played indelibly by James Stewart in the 1950 classic Harvey.
Elwood's pleasantness is what makes Harvey so enjoyable, the element around which the whole story revolves. (You thought it was the invisible rabbit? Think again!) And with an actor as famously pleasant as Jimmy Stewart in the lead role, one whose amiable personality made him beloved onscreen and off, it's easy to believe Elwood's words.
Only they're not true. Not entirely.
Because Jimmy Stewart wasn't just a pleasant actor. He was a Princeton graduate and a war veteran who rose to the rank of brigadier general in the Air Force reserves. He managed his career with sure-footed shrewdness, balancing light comedies and sentimental melodramas with dark Hitchcock thrillers, grim Westerns, and even a noir or two. He recognized before anyone else did that, after coming back from his war service, he had to grow and change to get his career back on track.
Already, before the war, he had shown considerable depth and range in roles like the passionate and principled young senator in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, the cynical reporter who learns a humbling lesson in The Philadelphia Story, and (SPOILER ALERT!) the unsuspected homicidal maniac in After the Thin Man. But he never considered resting on his laurels; he resolutely pushed further into even darker, more serious territory. And despite the Production Code, films back then could get fairly dark. (If you don't believe me, watch him again in Vertigo, trying to turn Kim Novak into a replica of his dead lover.) With honesty and commitment, he explored emotions that in any other actor would make us uneasy, possibly even turn us away.
But here's the thing that makes him Jimmy Stewart: He stayed pleasant. Stewart was not the mid-20th-century equivalent of a Disney Channel star who grows up and starts doing the most provocative films and photo shoots possible, in order to tear his or her old image to shreds. He somehow managed to hang on to that old image even while transcending it, probably because it wasn't just a persona he had put on but a reflection of who he genuinely was. Something that often comes up at #TCMParty, when one of his films is airing, is how even when he plays a dark role, you can sense the light in him, even if it's just a faint spark, pushing back against the darkness. All this gave his performances layers and substance, making them more than just provocative -- making them real, three-dimensional, and human. His intelligence came through too. Even in a film like Harvey, where Elwood is supposed to be serenely unaware of all kinds of things going on around him, you can see little glints of knowingness in him. You get the sense that, if Elwood is serenely unaware, it's because he perpetually makes the choice to be so.
Harvey was in many ways a return to Stewart's pre-war territory: a light sentimental comedy on the surface, with hints of genuine truth and profundity gleaming just underneath. Thanks to strong writing, directing, and acting across the board, the sentiment never gets too sentimental. Stewart, with his long experience of walking the fine line between sweet and saccharine, helped make sure of that. And maybe there's even a bit of truth in that line I quoted earlier, at least for most of us. But not for Stewart. In a world where, too often, it seems you have to be oh so smart or oh so pleasant, it was James Stewart's gift to be both.
Harvey airs on TCM at 8 p.m. Eastern on August 7, as part of James Stewart's Summer under the Stars day.
"In this world, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant. Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant."
So said Elwood P. Dowd, played indelibly by James Stewart in the 1950 classic Harvey.
Elwood's pleasantness is what makes Harvey so enjoyable, the element around which the whole story revolves. (You thought it was the invisible rabbit? Think again!) And with an actor as famously pleasant as Jimmy Stewart in the lead role, one whose amiable personality made him beloved onscreen and off, it's easy to believe Elwood's words.
Only they're not true. Not entirely.
Because Jimmy Stewart wasn't just a pleasant actor. He was a Princeton graduate and a war veteran who rose to the rank of brigadier general in the Air Force reserves. He managed his career with sure-footed shrewdness, balancing light comedies and sentimental melodramas with dark Hitchcock thrillers, grim Westerns, and even a noir or two. He recognized before anyone else did that, after coming back from his war service, he had to grow and change to get his career back on track.
Already, before the war, he had shown considerable depth and range in roles like the passionate and principled young senator in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, the cynical reporter who learns a humbling lesson in The Philadelphia Story, and (SPOILER ALERT!) the unsuspected homicidal maniac in After the Thin Man. But he never considered resting on his laurels; he resolutely pushed further into even darker, more serious territory. And despite the Production Code, films back then could get fairly dark. (If you don't believe me, watch him again in Vertigo, trying to turn Kim Novak into a replica of his dead lover.) With honesty and commitment, he explored emotions that in any other actor would make us uneasy, possibly even turn us away.
But here's the thing that makes him Jimmy Stewart: He stayed pleasant. Stewart was not the mid-20th-century equivalent of a Disney Channel star who grows up and starts doing the most provocative films and photo shoots possible, in order to tear his or her old image to shreds. He somehow managed to hang on to that old image even while transcending it, probably because it wasn't just a persona he had put on but a reflection of who he genuinely was. Something that often comes up at #TCMParty, when one of his films is airing, is how even when he plays a dark role, you can sense the light in him, even if it's just a faint spark, pushing back against the darkness. All this gave his performances layers and substance, making them more than just provocative -- making them real, three-dimensional, and human. His intelligence came through too. Even in a film like Harvey, where Elwood is supposed to be serenely unaware of all kinds of things going on around him, you can see little glints of knowingness in him. You get the sense that, if Elwood is serenely unaware, it's because he perpetually makes the choice to be so.
Harvey was in many ways a return to Stewart's pre-war territory: a light sentimental comedy on the surface, with hints of genuine truth and profundity gleaming just underneath. Thanks to strong writing, directing, and acting across the board, the sentiment never gets too sentimental. Stewart, with his long experience of walking the fine line between sweet and saccharine, helped make sure of that. And maybe there's even a bit of truth in that line I quoted earlier, at least for most of us. But not for Stewart. In a world where, too often, it seems you have to be oh so smart or oh so pleasant, it was James Stewart's gift to be both.
Harvey airs on TCM at 8 p.m. Eastern on August 7, as part of James Stewart's Summer under the Stars day.
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