A panoply of nuts.
The award-winning You Can’t Take It With You (1938) is the classic cautionary tale, told through contrast. J. P. Kirby is an industrialist intent on sewing up the biggest takeover of his career, but in order to do so he must obtain control of the house owned by Grandpa Vanderhof, a man who dropped out of the business world 35 years ago to pursue stamp collecting, harmonica playing, and raising his slapdash, happy-go-lucky family. As Kirby is operating through an agent, neither is aware that Vanderhof’s beautiful daughter, Alice, is working for Kirby’s dashing son, Tony, and by the time the movie opens, they are testing the waters of love.
Eventually, marriage plans are made and it’s time to play Meet the Parents, but Tony, disturbed by his own family’s social pretensions, brings them to Alice’s house a day earlier than planned in order to ensure each gets to meet the other side as they really are. This goes poorly, and the arrival of the police with accusations of fomenting a revolution (which are conveniently forgotten), exacerbated by an accidental fireworks release, lands the entire mob, already upset and tousled, in jail, awaiting the pleasure of the night court.
Here the contrast is deepest, as Kirby’s support system at the immediate trial is his corporate lawyers, while Vanderhof, without lawyers, confesses to the firework mishap and is fined – a fine immediately paid by all this neighbors, who have been the recipient of much help over the years and arrived for the trial in support.
The disappearance of Alice, distraught over the debacle and her failed courtship, and wishing to avoid Tony, places pressure on the Vanderhofs, who support each other, and when word comes of her presence across town, Vanderhof decides it’s time to sell out and move across town to give his daughter more support. The word from Vanderhof to the agent trying to buy the property triggers Kirby’s business deal, and within days eviction notices are delivered to people in the neighborhood. In the board room, Kirby’s partners begin the war on the corporation to be taken over. But when the day arrives, Kirby is stricken with a family defection – Tony, his son, who he was going to make President of the new conglomerate, announces his decision to resign from the company and seek a new life elsewhere. His reasons? They mirror Vanderhof’s – a desire for happiness, rather than success.
And then, rather much like Jacob Marley from A Christmas Carol, the owner of the firm taken over by Kirby’s, now forced out and broke, appears at Kirby’s office. Does he plead for mercy? No. Instead, he delivers a warning that this mode of business never delivers happiness, he has learned to his regret, and leaves. As Kirby considers his advice, his secretary interrupts and says the man has died in the washroom.
Kirby, bereft of son and doubtful of his only passion in life, appears at Vanderhof’s, who is busy moving out, and begs for advice. A gentle smile and a harmonica are all that is offered, and that is enough.
This is a movie that dances the delicate line between drama and fluffy farce, and the former wins when the thematic material is reinforced through the warning and death of the rival business owner, as well as the jail scene. This, in concert with the behavior of his son, brings into focus the continual problem of making business your entire life. The constant virtual warfare of the predatory business world and its concomitant devotion to money is brought out, examined, and shown for what it is: a distraction from the more important aspects of the real world.
Don’t be fooled, this is not outright condemnation of the corporate world; after all, it’s a movie made by a large corporation. But it’s a recommendation that the corporate world viewed as war is sheer foolishness. Businesses exist to provide goods & services to customers, not to destroy each other and, in the process, consume the employees right down to their shoes – whether they’re worn out or made of alligator hide.
Add in superb performances, even from the supporting cast, excellent staging, and a strong story which seems like fluff, but isn’t, and it’s not hard to say You Can’t Take It with You is Recommended.
