Desk Set (1957)

Ever since the legend of John Henry emerged in the folkloric psyche of America in the late 19^th century, workers have feared their inevitable demise at the hands of progress and automation. Even today, modernization and change in the workplace remains a constant bugaboo in the mind of the laborer as efficiency and cost cutting continually push business and industry forward. Technology has destroyed some careers, created affluence and opportunity in others but, certainly, no field of occupation seems immune to its perceived threat.

With this anxiety in mind, William Marchant penned his 1955 play The Desk Set, a darkly comedic gaze into the profound effect computers were having on corporate America and its workforce. Marchant’s observations were hardly condemning of the new technology. Rather, he focused on the process (and the extraneous ramifications to the employee’s sense of worth) by which the businesses were implementing their designs for the future.

The play was a hit. Shirley Booth (Oscar winner for Come Back Little Sheba and later TV’s Hazel) played the role of the fact soaked librarian of a large broadcasting company’s research department who must deal with the prospect of being replaced by a new “electric brain” (computer). The show had a 296 performance run and was picked up by 20^th Century Fox the next year.

The material, being a bit dark and ominous, was lightened up by the studio with the scriptwriting talents of Phoebe and Henry Ephrom (parents of Nora, Delia and Amy). They added a romantic angle to the social commentary not only to make it more broadly appealing for screen audiences but also to accommodate the two Hollywood giants who had signed on to the project, Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn.

At Hepburn’s prodding (some say at the threat of her abandoning the film), the role of Richard Sumner, the efficiency expert, was expanded for Tracy. The two would obviously need equal billing, the same amount of screen time and a romantic slant to capitalize on their previous successes. It would be the eighth and penultimate film in their legendary pairing (Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? being their last, ten years later).

The two had been friends, lovers and costars for over fifteen years at this point. Their undeniable onscreen chemistry was fueled by their easy natured offscreen relationship. Hepburn took to mothering the older Tracy (he was seven years her elder) and his rising health problems solidified her caretaking role. Tracy had been married to Louise Treadwell since 1923 but the very apparent triangle had little internal tumult, surprisingly accepted by the participants as well as a usually judgmental movie audience.

“Screen chemistry” is one of those indefinable terms in filmdom, like “star quality”, a “director’s eye” or “Hollywood accounting principles”. The most beautifully chiseled features (think Paulette Goddard or Patrick Bergin) can seem flat and uninviting under the gaze of the lens while physical ordinariness (think Bette Davis or Humphrey Bogart) often radiates brightly on the screen. With something as ethereal as “chemistry” between actors, the capturing of that golden magic can be quite an alchemic endeavor. For every Powell/Loy there is a Reeves/Bullock. For every Tracy/Hepburn, a Ford/Heche. The camera is a fickle mistress indeed.

Tracy and Hepburn were as natural as a sunrise. Her fastidious, matriarchal tendencies complemented Tracy’s homespun, everyman attitudes. Her flamboyant, energized style (always teetering close to the edge of hamminess) played well off his laid back, reactive approach.

Their characters continually challenged each other whether vying for power, affection, principle, or pride. She was prone to emotion, he to sensibleness and reason. His gruff exterior was softened by her passions, both intellectually and amorously. He would reel her in from destructive flights of folly. Their comedic timing was impeccable (their dramas together did not fare so well) and the casualness they displayed toward each other could only be the result of mutual appreciation and offscreen familiarity. The match up is a rara avis, seldom equaled (Keaton/Allen, Burton/Taylor, Powell/Loy) and never surpassed.

For Desk Set, Hepburn plays Bunny Watson, the head librarian in the reference department of the Federal Broadcasting Company, whose encyclopedic mind has earned her the undying respect of her superiors (she’s dating one of them, played by Gig Young) and co-workers. She runs a tight but friendly ship with assistants Joan Blondell (Topper Returns, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?), Dina Merrill (Butterfield 8, A Wedding) and Sue Randall (Miss Landers from Leave it to Beaver).

In comes Richard Sumner (Tracy), an efficiency expert (he prefers “Methods Engineer”), who has been hired to install and implement his computer system EMARAC into the department. He is met with curiosity and rumor at first, then distrust and antipathy. His manner is evasive (he must keep silent about the project and an impending merger) which leads to an immediately combative relationship with Bunny. Over time, her anxiety is quelled and they find mutual respect and admiration for each other. Her staff is not so sure as their once intellectually stimulating work has now been reduced to inputting the company’s library into Sumner’s big, looming machine. Job insecurities are mounting.

Much of the film’s enjoyment stems from the office environment of the times. While the sexism and computer anxiety seem painfully antiquated, the story has interestingly modern overtones. The opening credits offer an office design appearing over a Mondrian inspired floor pattern. The building and office spaces are decidedly modern. The EMARAC computer, while stylishly enhanced by the set decorators, is reminiscent of the humongous machines of the time. Heavy drinking is portrayed as the symbol of affluence and success that it was in Corporate America (even on the job). There is a reference to the relatively new phenomenon of “rock and roll” (1957 remember) and Bunny’s managerial style involves the occasional congratulatory slap on the ass to her assistants.

There are comedic gems as well. Bunny and Sumner’s impromptu lunch on the building’s rooftop allows the two leads to delve into a rapid fire volley of barbs and one liners as they both try to one up the other. As Sumner grills her with some prefabricated memory questions, she stops chewing the sandwich he has given her. He asks if the question is too tough. “No”, she replies, “Tough roast beef”.

The film’s most hilarious sequence takes place at Bunny’s apartment where she has innocently invited Sumner up to get in out of the rain and dry off his clothes. As the two sit in robes over dinner, Bunny’s boyfriend (Young) makes an unannounced visit (he was supposed to be out of town) and hurls a few accusations over their compromised, yet innocent positions. Here, Hepburn’s frantic incredulity and Tracy’s matter of fact reasonableness are in vintage form. The boyfriend is dispatched, confused and somewhat embarrassed from the clever crossfire of the two’s banter.

Director Walter Lang had been a solid helmsman for 20^th Century Fox since the late ‘30s, finding most of his success in the Technicolor musicals of the ‘40s (Moon Over Miami, State Fair, Weekend in Havana). He had used the studio’s patented Cinemascope format (relatively new but gaining wide popularity in the industry at the time) for 1956’s The King and I to great acclaim. It is a bit unnecessary for Desk Set however. With the exception of the opening title sequence and a few wide interior shots of the CEO’s office, the film is essentially a stage play and requires little of the sweeping panoramic views that are Cinemascope’s strengths.

Lang’s success here is to manage the supporting cast, trust the stage proven gags and comedic pacing, keep the energetic rhythm of the picture, and allow his two stars to shine. Sometimes directing is that simple.

The phobias of workers and the anxiety over job security will be with humankind as long as we engage in the practices of labor and business. That doesn’t mean we can’t step back for an occasional glimpse and chuckle at how we function in the workplace. The cold, dehumanizing structure of the corporation versus the indefatigable spirit of the human being can make for piercing drama or high comedy. Desk Set chooses the latter, but is significantly mindful of the first. It is Tracy and Hepburn at the top of their game.