Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

I love it when Stanley Kramer descends from Heaven to teach us a lesson we so richly deserve.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967) is probably Kramer's most famous work. Though not as obnoxiously one-sided as Inherit the Wind, or as boring and pedantic as Judgment at Nuremberg (and, thankfully, not nearly as long as either), it still suffers from the same stilted dramatics and preachy liberalism that made those films a chore. Even as a straight drama and a showcase for its talented cast, Guess Who is a mixed bag.

Headstrong young Joey Drayton (Katharine Houghton) comes home from vacation with her newfound love, Dr. John Prentice (Sidney Poitier). Her parents - liberal newspaper editor Matt (Spencer Tracy) and museum curator Christina (Katharine Hepburn) - are taken aback when they discover - dun dun dun! - that John is black! The two wrestle with their doubts and prejudices, while Joey delivers an ultimatum: she's running away to Geneva with John whether or not they approve! However, John won't agree to the marriage without the Draytons' consent, further muddying the waters. And the situation is further complicated when that rapscallion Joey invites John's parents (Beah Richards and Roy Glenn) over as well! Socially relevant shenanigans ensue.

However daring it was for a Hollywood film to endorse interracial marriage in 1967, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner must have seemed anachronistic. That same year, Bonnie and Clyde and The Graduate hit theaters, and their radical, disaffected edge was more in tune with the era's zeitgeist. While the film was well-received, Guess Who's gentle liberalism seems a relic of an earlier time, with little place in the increasingly-radicalized '60s. This might not be such a bad thing if the drama were more satisfactorily, but it's the usual parade of simplified issues, broadly-drawn characters and preachy theatricals that we've come to expect from Kramer.

The whole premise of the film is hard to swallow. I've often complained about deck-stacking in "message films," but this one takes the cake: John and Joey fall in love in ten days, then come home without notice to Joey's parents. And Joey, either ludicrously naive or needlessly cruel, convinces John's parents to visit as well, and forces them all to make a one-night decision to bless their marriage. Wow. It's nice to think that racism can be solved in 100 minutes, but in real life things just don't work that way. Call me cynical, but I don't have much faith in a ten-day romance either. I guess that's why there wasn't a sequel: Guess Who's Paying Alimony.

Any edge the subject retained is forfeited by its angelic protagonist. Prentice is unbelievably perfect: a successful Doctor, he's completely deferential to the Draytons, lets insults and slurs roll off his back, exhibits no sexual desire or "ethnic" emotions and lacks a criminal record. Played by the saintly Sidney Poitier, he's a white man's fantasy Negro: who wouldn't want this handsome, mild-mannered, improbably successful man as a son-in-law? Kramer proudly claimed that he deliberately made Prentice flawless, but I'm unclear why this is commendable. I know it wasn't in Kramer's nature, but a human being with actual flaws would be more interesting. If Archie Bunker's daughter Gloria brought home Huey Newton for dinner, that would be an interesting film!

Kramer does a better job with peripheral characters and individual scenes. Interestingly, the most overtly bigoted character is black maid Tillie (Isabel Sandford), while the kindly Mosignor (Cecil Kellaway) is the only character with no reservations about the match. Christina gets a big cheer when she tells off her hateful assistant (Virginia Christie). But the requisite monologue ends the film with a big thud, moving from a needlessly-exhaustive plot summary to spelling out the message in excrutiating detail. Mr. Kramer: anyone who needed this lesson isn't going to be swayed by Spencer Tracy hectoring them at length.

Spencer Tracy plays his usual avatar of liberal rectitude, albeit with a bit more nuance as he fights his inner reactionary. But he still gets to deliver his trademark preachy monologue where he encourages us to be good, tolerant liberals. Katharine Hepburn is obnoxious as usual, though to be fair, she scales down some of her usual tics and mannerisms. Sidney Poitier is straight-jacketed: when he lets emotion show through - his showdown with his father, his love scenes with Joey - he shines, but for the rest of the film, his flawless black man is unbelievable. Katharine Houghton is just plain annoying. The more interesting characters are on the periphery, with Beah Richards (The Miracle Worker), Cecil Kallaway (Harvey) and Isabel Sandford (TV's The Jeffersons) providing fine performances.

On the whole, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner is another tedious Stanley Kramer Lesson in Liberalism. It has its merits, and it's not as obnoxious or painful as other Kramer vehicles, but it's really hard to swallow its stilted dramatics and broadly-drawn characters. Oh well.