With a title like that, there is no doubt that this is going to be a film with a moral message to it. That is further strengthened by the revelation that this is a Frank Capra film, a man who often interjects strong sentimentality into his films. The term Capraesque exists because of him, and if I ever create a blog dedicated to his filmography, that will be what I name it. He was a master of these kinds of films and this one is no exception.
We have all heard the phrase: Be wise in what you invest your time and strength in because you cannot take the treasures of Earth with you when you die. The Bible says: Lay not up for yourselves treasure upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay upon yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Matthew 6: 19-21)
Whether you are religious or not, this principle still applies. If your heart is on acquiring wealth and power, you will miss out on the little things in life such as spending time with family, making genuine friends that support each other when tragedy strikes, and just plain doing things that make you happy, even if they don’t profit you financially. This simple, yet profound, message is at the heart of You Can’t Take it With You, the winner of the 11th Academy Award for Outstanding Production.
The film started life as a Pulitzer Prize-winning play of the same name by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart. This production began in Philadelphia in the fall of 1936 before transferring to Broadway, where it played for over 800 performances. The story and message it brought with it resonated with audiences, and it wasn’t long before Frank Capra caught a performance and insisted Columbia Pictures buy up the rights to film it. His instincts were right, and the film that came out of this would earn him his third Academy Award in five years behind It Happened One Night and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.
This film would also skyrocket James Stewart into A-List status. He had been working steadily for a few years as a studio actor for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and was starting to see enough success to receive star billing and get requests from rival studios for loan-outs. Columbia borrowed him for this film, at the request of Frank Capra, and his popularity shot up immensely. He would never really have to worry about his career in Hollywood again. That instinct Capra had for this gangly young man with a unique vocal cadence was spot on. It made Stewart endearing to audiences who found him a likable character that they were rooting for, even as he was muddling his way through a difficult romance with the leading lady, Alice (Jean Arthur). This relationship is frocked with seeming incompatibilities, yet audiences want it to succeed because we like these two so much.
The catalyst of the story is that a successful Wall Street banker, Anthony P. Kirby (Edward Arnold), has set his sights on a 12-block radius in the city where he intends to build a munitions monopoly set up perfectly to force his primary competitor out of business. The one thing standing in his way is the Vanderhof family, led by Grandpa Martin Vanderhof (Lionel Barrymore), who refuses to sell his home to Kirby at any price. Kirby instructs his real-estate broker, John Blakely (Clarence Wilson), to acquire the land by any means necessary, making problems for the Vanderhofs if necessary.
Kirby’s son, Tony (James Stewart), is a vice president in the company. He has fallen in love with a company stenographer, Alice Sycamore, granddaughter to Martin Vanderhof and the only member of the family that could be considered “normal.” Tony proposes marriage, but she fears that his wealthy and snobbish family will not accept her as a part of his family. These suspicions are basically confirmed when a meeting between the two families is arranged where actions from the many eccentric houseguests land everybody in jail. Alice is convinced that the two are from two different worlds, especially after she perceives that Tony doesn’t defend her to his overbearing mother. One thing does begin to get through to Kirby Sr. though. When the courts fine Vanderhof a good amount of money that he cannot afford to pay, the large number of friends that show up for the trial pony up their own money to cover the fine. Kirby, with all his wealth and respect, has no friends that show up for him.
For all the business prowess, the respect of his fellow bankers, and the money, the one thing he lacks is true friends. Martin Vanderhof has some odd, sometimes strange views on the world, but he loves what he does and seems to get along in life just fine. What he lacks in material possessions, he more than makes up for with companionship and friends. He’s also persuasive in his views on the world. In an early scene, he narrows out a man whose job it is to add numbers up in a ledger. This man, Poppins (Donald Meek), has a knack for inventing animatronic toys but is stuck in a dead-end job crunching numbers. It takes Martin a matter of minutes to convince Poppins to quit his job and shift his focus to his hobby instead.
An important distinction is made between all of the eccentrics that live with the Vanderhofs and Mr. Kirby. Even Martin admits that making money is what makes Kirby happy. But he also notes that Kirby enjoyed playing the harmonica in his youth but finds he no longer has the time to do so. With Kirby, it is not a bad thing to spend his time making money; there just needs to be time for other pursuits, too. This film is not going to criminalize the acquisition of wealth, just the obsession with it over all else. There is a great emphasis on not doing things you don’t enjoy just to get by. Martin, himself, was once an elevator operator, spending his life taking people up and down all day long in a small, claustrophobic box. One day, he realized this was not making him happy, and he simply walked away from it. It’s an enlightening philosophy that many unhappy people could use today. It would be interesting to see a counter-culture remake set in the seventies; this concept would have fit in well in that decade.
If there is one thing that brings this film down, it is the final act. There is too much emphasis on whether Kirby will be sufficiently moved to change his viewpoint about life. This is a product of adapting a three-hour play into a two-hour film. Things are not as well developed in the film adaptation, making this final act feel too drawn out compared to the rest of the film. This is a film that could have used a sharper edit that better focused the story and the characters. This is a minor quibble, though, as the characters are such a delight to watch, especially Lionel Barrymore, who would play the exact opposite of this character a few years later in It’s a Wonderful Life. Lionel is so full of light and life here, and it never comes across as pandering or insincere, he’s that good an actor. It’s just the right level of sappiness for a Capra film, and it’s hard to believe this was not written specifically for Capra; it’s so perfectly up his alley.
Academy Award Nominations:
Outstanding Production: Frank Capra (won)
Best Directing: Frank Capra (won)
Best Actress in a Supporting Role: Spring Byington
Best Writing - Screenplay: Robert Riskin
Best Sound Recording: John P. Livadary
Best Cinematography: Joseph Walker
Best Editing: Gene Havlick
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Release Date: September 29, 1938
Running Time: 126 minutes
Not Rated
Starring: Jean Arthur, Lionel Barrymore, James Stewart, and Edward Arnold
Directed By: Frank Capra
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