What could be sweeter or more wholesome than the story of a man who’s best friends with a 6-foot-3 1/2-inch rabbit? Henry Koster’s film Harvey, based on Mary Chase’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play, turns 75 this month, and for those 75 years, it’s been fondly remembered by audiences as a gentle, whimsical tale of neighborliness, anchored by Jimmy Stewart’s quietly lovely performance. But much like another well-known December release in Stewart’s career, there’s more to Harvey than fans tend to remember.
Stewart stars as Elwood P. Dowd, whose placid small-town life is enriched by the constant presence of the unseen rabbit Harvey. His delusion seems harmless enough—and at certain moments, not even that delusional. But a group of supporting characters who are pretty quirky in their own right, led by the wonderfully daffy Josphine Hull as Elwood’s older sister Veta, have serious doubts about his mental health—and they intend to do something about it.
Despite the misunderstandings he faces, Elwood makes life better wherever he goes, simply by savoring the experience of constant companionship and reaching out to share it with those willing to accept it.
Elwood, as his sister and neighbors ruefully recall, was once something of a big shot in that tiny town. “Elwood had everything: brains, personality, and friends,” recounts family friend Judge Gaffney (William H. Lynn). Now he does little but make the rounds of the town bars all day, accompanied by the invisible companion he cheerfully introduces to all and sundry.
We never actually see Elwood get drunk—it would strike entirely the wrong tone—but it cannot be denied that he’s fond of a tipple. But more than that, he’s fond of people. He shows genuine interest in the life of every single person he meets—mail carriers, cab drivers, fellow barflies, you name it—listens patiently to their problems, and invariably invites them either out for drinks or to his home for dinner.
The people Elwood encounters, understandably, tend to be taken aback when he introduces them to a giant rabbit they can’t see. But if they stick around long enough rather than flee, something starts to cast a spell over them. You could make a case that it’s Harvey himself; the film lets you get away with that interpretation. But it’s more likely Elwood’s gentle charm and kindness that win them over. He’s like Mr. Rogers for adults, if Mr. Rogers liked to hang out in bars with a big white invisible rabbit.
“I wrestled with reality for 35 years, doctor, and I’m happy to state I finally won out over it,” he explains to the doctor and nurse who are trying to institutionalize him at his sister’s behest. Such lines hint at something that took me a while to notice: a sort of knowingness that keeps gleaming through Elwood’s otherworldly demeanor. You can see it again when Dr. Sanderson (Charles Drake) asks him some questions to try and figure out when and how and why Elwood started seeing Harvey.
“Dowd, what was your father’s name?”
Elwood takes a beat, looking down and away, before he lifts his face back to the doctor and states, quite emphatically, “John. John Stuyvesant.” And then he smiles sweetly. The same thing happens again, the expressions and movements even more comically exaggerated, when the doctor pushes to know the name of Elwood’s childhood best friend.
Elwood knows what’s going on here. He may be living in his own reality most of the time, but in this case at least, he knows what the doctor is trying to get out of him. You can’t convince me otherwise. And that throws something of a new light on this seemingly simple character and story.
Like his friends and his sister, Elwood acknowledges his more conventional past, in his own oblique fashion. “Years ago,” he explains to another doctor (the words enhanced by that inimitable Jimmy Stewart drawl), “my mother used to say to me, she’d say, ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be’—she always called me Elwood—’In this world, Elwood, you must be oh, so smart, or oh, so pleasant.” Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.” This too suggests that Elwood’s role is less the deluded innocent and more a man who has made a deliberate choice to live in a way that seems incomprehensible, though appealing, to others. You might go so far as to call him a holy fool.
Don’t get me wrong: Elwood isn’t acting a part. He really does see his white rabbit. Everything in his characterization and in the film itself makes that clear. But he has chosen to embrace this strange friendship, and with it a life that earns him reactions ranging from indulgent to confused to horrified. He meets all of it with a good-natured smile, whether he’s being humored, shouted at, or even yanked from room to room in a mental institution, because he’s just too happy to care.
Christiana Peterson describes the holy fool as “someone who live[s] out the spiritual discipline of behaving in a way that could bring ridicule.” Harvey is not what you might call a Christian story; its titular supernatural creature, the “pooka” who appears as a giant rabbit, hails from Celtic mythology. Still, Elwood’s way of life places him unquestionably in that sacred tradition.
Despite the film’s sunny reputation, the world in which Harvey takes place is really not that different from our own—a world of calculation and ruthlessness. Those few characters besides Elwood who believe in the pooka’s reality want either to get rid of it or use it for their own ends. Elwood is content to simply enjoy it, making no requests or demands at all. Despite the misunderstandings he faces, Elwood makes life better wherever he goes, simply by savoring the experience of constant companionship and reaching out to share it with those willing to accept it. All these years later, it’s an example of holy contentment that still rings true.
“Harvey wouldn’t do anything for you,” Veta moans to her brother while trying to get him to give up the rabbit for good. “He’s making a fool of you. Elwood, don’t be a fool!” But that’s exactly where she’s mistaken. In a world that so often seeks either to eliminate or exploit anyone who’s different, sometimes a fool is the best thing one can be.
