Hepburn and Tracy are woefully miscast in this ennui-inducing bore that is easily the worst of their films -- well, perhaps tied with Keeper of the Flame. The sexual tension, the battle of the sexes, that was the hallmark of their best efforts -- which were the comedies, not the dramas -- is entirely absent here. Hepburn seems uncomfortable as the naive nineteenth-century marked woman who bears her "shame" stoically and alone. Tracy, whose brilliant underplaying made him one of the masters of his craft, sleepwalks through this thing -- with the exception of the scene where his friend Doc, with his dying words, makes Tracy realize what his rigidity has cost him. The great team and their talented supporting cast are cruelly wasted in this dreary soap/horse opera.
Review of The Sea of Grass
