Holiday is a rich film for our time, as it was for its own: its droll comedy at the expense of "the reverence for riches" springs from genuine feeling and intelligence; its witty dialogue moves gracefully, almost imperceptibly, into melancholy. Cary Grant's back-flipping Johnny Case is a non-conformist, self-made man who has the misfortune to fall in love with a rich girl (Doris Nolan) before he has finished making himself. Katharine Hepburn, as the "black sheep" sister, and Lew Ayres, as the passive alcoholic brother, are like escapees from Tennessee Williams, lost souls comforted only slightly by the comedy that wraps itself around them in Philip Barry's play. Nolan's obsessive attempts to Toto-ize her Johnny (tugging on his tie to make a man of him); the Fifth Avenue mansion said to be reminiscent of the Palace of the Emperor Caligula ("You remember him, don't you darling?"); and Edward Everett Horton at his sardonic best, all help to make Johnny's case-for the richness of life as against the poverty of greed.