Showing posts with label Ernst Lubitsch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ernst Lubitsch. Show all posts

Thursday, January 25, 2018

Don't Wait too Long

Film: Heaven Can Wait (1943)
Format: DVD from NetFlix on laptop.

I’ve enjoyed the films of Ernst Lubitsch that I’ve seen in general, so I was curious about Heaven Can Wait. What I knew going in wasn’t much. The main thing I knew was that the 1978 movie of the same name is actually a remake of Here Comes Mr. Jordan and not this movie. In fact, this film, while there are similar themes, is almost the opposite in where our characters take the narrative.

But, like both Here Comes Mr. Jordan and the 1978 Heaven Can Wait, we’re going to be dealing with someone who has died. Our corpse is Henry Van Cleve (Don Ameche), who wanders into a large, impressive entryway where he meets a man known as His Excellency (Laird Cregar). It’s soon clear that we are at the entry to hell, and Henry is of the opinion that this is where he belongs. His Excellency is not convinced, though, so Henry is forced to tell his life story to justify his entry into Perdition.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Fourth Wall? What's That?

Film: The Love Parade
Format: DVD from NetFlix on laptop.

Maurice Chevalier was involved, nay instrumental, in one of the weirdest sub-genres of film in history. This is the (I think) third musical I’ve seen where he plays essentially a dress soldier, the sort who looks good in a uniform but has never been (and never will be ) involved in combat. His entire reason for existence is not conquest on the battlefield, but conquest in the bedroom. I realize this came before The Smiling Lieutenant, but that’s where my thoughts went with The Love Parade, but this is a far better film than the fluff of Lubitsch’s film the next year.

Really, though, The Love Parade is what is described in the previous paragraph. Count Alfred Renard (Chevalier) is a part of the ambassador entourage to Paris of the fictional country of Sylvania. He is recalled to his country because of one too many scandals involving the high ranking women of Paris. While in Paris he has acquired a series of belt notches, an outrageous French accent, and a servant named Jacques (Lupino Lane) who has a reputation among the servant class much like Alfred does among the nobility. Jacques persuades Alfred to take him back to Sylvania with him, and off they go to Alfred’s home and what will likely be an unpleasant meeting with his queen.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Two Hours would Overstay the Welcome

Film: One Hour with You
Format: DVD from NetFlix on laptop.

Films like One Hour with You are infuriating to me. On the one hand, it’s a difficult film to dislike. It’s charming and comes complete with the delicate and mildly naughty touch of the great Ernst Lubitsch with some uncredited assistance from the great George Cukor. On the other hand, the people in this film need to all be stood in a long line and slapped repeatedly. I have trouble with fluff pieces like this one because while there’s nothing specifically unpleasant about them, there’s also a constant low-grade irritation for me.

Since One Hour with You is a musical romantic comedy, we can guess from the start that we’ll be getting a happy ending by the time this short little nothing winds up. More than that, we can guess within the first couple of minutes that our main couple is going to experience a series of misunderstandings that would be easily resolved with a couple of words. Really, it’s more or less the chance to look at a couple of pretty people and hear a couple of peppy songs. That’s it. And, since it’s Maurice Chevalier, which means a lot of fourth wall breaks where he speaks directly to the audience.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Garbo Laughs!

Film: Ninotchka
Format: DVDs from Rockford Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player.

I have discovered that I have a real appreciation for Ernst Lubitsch’s work. He had a style and a quality that most filmmakers past and present seem to lack. There is a touch of class and humanity to Lubitsch’s work as well as moments of sublime comedy. A part of his working philosophy was that even the most dignified person is completely ridiculous at least twice a day. It’s a great observation, and it’s one that informs a great deal of his work, including Ninotchka. (Incidentally, as an Anglophone, it’s disconcerting to type the names “Lubitsch” and “Ninotchka” over and over—all those damn consecutive consonants!)

Anyway, Ninotchka is a love story, and true to form for good ol’ Ernst, it’s a genuine romance. There’s comedy, there’s some intrigue, and there are some characters who are quite a bit more than they appear on the surface. This is a smart film, while it comes from the era of the screwball, it is most definitely not one. Oh, there’s plenty of comedy here, but it’s not of the laugh-out-loud variety. Most of it is subtle, occurring in the margins of the story. It’s the sort of comedy that causes a smile and a knowing nod rather than a knee-slap.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Den of Thieves

Film: Trouble in Paradise
Format: DVD from NetFlix on various players

Once upon a time, there were old films made before the Hays Code. In these films, the bad guys could win and crime could pay. It wasn’t until after the code that we got such genres as film noir, where crime was a major part of the plot and didn’t pay no matter how much we liked the crooks in the film. Trouble in Paradise was made before the Hays Code happened, and it’s a film that couldn’t have been made the same way while the Code was in effect.

In this film, we meet up with Gaston Monescu (Herbert Marshall), an accomplished and dedicated thief. He is posing as a baron and romancing a woman whom he is hoping to rob. The woman, Lily (Miriam Hopkins) turns out to also be a crook. We have something like a meet cute after they’ve already met when it turns out that he has robbed the room of Francois Filiba (Edward Everett Horton). She, of course, has robbed him. But he’s stolen her brooch. But she’s stolen his watch. And he’s stolen her garter. And love blooms.

Some time later, Gaston manages to swipe the purse of Madame Mariette Colet (Kay Francis), a widow who owns and operates the most successful perfume company in France. He and Lily discover that the reward for the missing purse is far more than he could sell the purse for to a fence. And so he approaches Madame Colet and returns the purse for the reward. He also charms her into giving him a job as her personal secretary, which puts him in prime position to rob her blind.

The problem is that, like Filiba and a man known only as The Major (Charles Ruggles), Monescu has fallen for her hard. He’s torn between the thief he knows and loves and the widow who is far more charming than he would have expected. And, since he’s already ripped off one of her suitors, there’s the constant threat that he’ll be found out before he can get away, if he even wants to get away.

The love triangle here is an interesting one, but one that crops up every now and then. The idea that the thief falls for the victim is sort of a fun idea, and one that in this case is very fresh for when the film was made. And it is a real love triangle—there’s a great deal of sex going on in this film. When Lily and Gaston go through their little “look what I took from you” moment early in the film, it’s palpably sexual and culminates with Lily virtually attacking Gaston, leaving us to essentially imagine her dragging him off to bed (rather than the other way around). It is this rather overt sexuality that has, more than likely, kept this film off the radar of all but the most dedicated fan of the classics.

Trouble in Paradise is in many ways the start of the screwball comedy, but this is not a screwball in any way, shape, or form. Lubitsch was an extremely sophisticated director in what he could do and what he wanted to get from his films. There’s no slapstick here, and there shouldn’t be, because it would probably spoil the entire effect. Instead, we are graced with a level of elegance that isn’t seen that often in early film.

This is quite a find for a number of reasons. In the first place—and don’t sell this short—this is a true romantic comedy, and in many ways the first in the talkie era. Second, the sexuality is quite surprising for a film of this era. We tend to think that films from the 1930s are staid, naïve, and almost Puritanical. Not so. This film is downright racy in its own way. Third, it’s damn well acted all the way around. Miriam Hopkins is tremendous in her role, and Herbert Marshall is as suave as any actor I’ve ever seen. As usual, the great Edward Everett Horton is tremendous in a supporting role, and is a huge benefit to the final film.

Films like Trouble in Paradise are the reason I started watching all of these films. I’d have never picked this in 100 years of choosing films on my own, opting more than likely to watch something for the fifth or sixth time. And doing that, I’d have missed a real gem both in terms of its history and in terms of just how entertaining this film really is. If you don’t mind a film from the dawn of talkies, you’ll find a lot here to not just like, but really fall in love with.

Why to watch Trouble in Paradise: It was made before that nasty Hays Code.
Why not to watch: More rich people problems.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

War is Funny

Films: The General, To Be or Not to Be
Format: DVDs from Rockford Public Library on big ol’ television.


Silent movies are a tough sell for a modern audience. I had a phone call today with a group of fellow college instructors, most of whom will be teaching a film class this coming quarter. I’ve taught the class once in the past, and another instructor and I helped rewrite a general curriculum as a guide this past quarter. One instructor, a veteran going into his fifth or sixth time teaching this class commented that he generally shows at least one silent to his class every year. He’s going with Keaton’s Sherlock Jr. this year, a film I’ll be watching eventually.

I asked him if he tends to go with silent comedies, and he confirmed this, saying that Keaton or Chaplin tend to be his choices. Silent films are a tough sell, but silent comedies still work. The reason is that funny is funny, whether it be in Technicolor or black-and-white, in Sensurround or with nothing but a guy playing the piano over it. And Keaton is damn funny, even today.

The General is, and I’m really trying not to overuse this word, Keaton’s masterpiece. It’s brilliant from start to finish. It’s funny, action filled, entertaining and wonderful. There’s a reason that it still shows up on greatest films ever made lists 85 years or so after it was created. Had the book that inspired this odyssey of mine been “The 101 Films You Must See…,” I’m convinced that The General would have made the 90% reducing cut.

The film begins just before the start of the American Civil War. We are introduced to Johnnie Gray (Keaton), who drives an engine for the Western and Atlanta Railroad. We’re told that Johnnie has two loves in his life: his engine, the General of the title, and his girl, Annabelle Lee (Marion Mack). Johnnie goes to visit Annabelle, and while he’s there, news comes of the attack on Fort Sumter. Annabelle’s father (Charles Henry Smith) and brother (Frank Barnes) go to enlist, and Johnnie follows along.

What happens next sets up the entire film, and has become a staple of comedies ever since. When Johnnie tries to enlist, he is refused. The reason is simple. He’s far more valuable as an engineer than he would ever be as a common soldier. He’s refused, but he fails to ask why, and the agents don’t tell him. A simple question from Johnnie would end the film. Instead, it appears to Annabelle and her family that Johnnie is a coward. Annabelle, heartbroken by Johnnie’s evident cowardice, tells him that she will not speak to him again until he is in uniform.

A year later, Johnnie’s train is stolen by Union spies. Unbeknownst to Johnnie, Annabelle is kidnapped along with the train. What follows, the rest of the movie in fact, is a merry chase as Johnnie pursues his beloved engine and girl into enemy territory and back, acting first as the pursuer and then as the pursued. Along the way are a number of comedic set pieces that demonstrate exactly why Keaton was so beloved in the early days of film and why he is still influential now. He deals with the problems of running his train solo, loading and firing a cannon, avoiding the shot from that same cannon, dealing with a torrential downpour, figuring out how to rescue Annabelle, and getting himself back across to friendly lines while having what seems like half the Union Army on his tail.

Keaton’s trademark, evident in this film as much as anywhere, is his constantly unchanging expression. He is capable of conveying almost any emotion with his notably stony face, often simply by the way he blinks in disbelief or holds himself. The cannon bit is perhaps the best example of this. After hooking up a car with cannon to his engine, Johnnie continues pursuing the Union soldiers. He loads the cannon and sets it to fire, but manages to disconnect the car as he climbs back to the engine. The cannon tilts down, aiming itself at Johnnie, who tries to get away, but his foot gets caught in a chain, leaving him trapped in the cannonball’s impending path. Eventually, he frees himself, the cannon fires, and the shot misses anyway.

What I like about Keaton’s films is how different they tend to be from many of the current comedies that feature main characters who are blindingly stupid and succeed only because the people set against them are equally stupid or because our supposed heroes are extraordinarily lucky. Keaton’s heroes certainly have their share of screw ups, goofs, and missteps, but they are also incredibly resourceful, and tend to be successful because they are smart, talented, or both. Johnnie Gray is that, which means that at least for me there is no shame in rooting for him to come out on top.

The great set piece here is the train crash into the river. This is before the days of great special effects, which means it was a real bridge, a real river, and a real train. The effect is still magnificent, and the train remained there until it was used for scrap iron during World War II.


Like Keaton, Jack Benny is a performer whose star has faded more than it should have—certainly more than even Keaton’s has. A major star in his own time, many people these days know virtually nothing about him. I’m just as guilty. Aside from knowing that he claimed to stop aging at 39 and was stereotypically stingy (answering “I’m thinking it over” to a mugger who asked for his money or his life during a comedy routine), I don’t know much about him, and have never seen him in anything until tonight.

To Be or Not to Be also starts at the beginning of a war, this time World War II. Set mainly in Poland, it follows the careers of stage actors Josef Tura (Benny) and his wife Maria (Carole Lombard, in her final role before a fatal plane crash). The Turas are the toast of Warsaw, and Tura is certainly the toast of himself. Something of a ham, Tura is both concerned with constantly getting the top billing and making sure that his wife is doing nothing she shouldn’t with men he doesn’t know.

Of course, the war starts, and Poland is caught in the thick of it. A young bomber pilot (Robert Stack) who is infatuated with Maria Tura ends up in England with a group of free Polish fliers. They wine and dine a Polish professor (Stanley Ridges) who confesses that he is heading to Warsaw on a secret mission. The young Poles give him the names of their relatives so that he can look in on them. The pilot, Sobinski, asks for the professor to look in on Maria Tura.

However, Sobinski becomes suspicious when it is revealed that the professor has no idea of who Maria Tura is. According to the still-infatuated Sobinski, it would be impossible for anyone in Warsaw to have not heard of her, leading him to suspect that Professor Siletsky is a Nazi collaborator. He is airdropped into Warsaw to warn the underground.

As it turns out, Sobinski is right; Siletsky is a Nazi, and he’s working on helping the Gestapo round up and destroy the underground movement. Now, Tura, his wife, and the remains of their theater company must stop Siletsky from reporting the members of the underground movement to the Nazis, do away with the man, and (with luck) survive. To do this, they must impersonate the local Nazi hierarchy and break into Siletsky’s hotel. Leading the way is Josef Tura, who, in addition to wanting to help save his country, also wants to give the performance of a lifetime and keep Sobinski away from his wife.

For such a serious topic, and it is gravely serious, this film is played constantly for laughs. Near the beginning, Sobinski has been sending Maria flowers anonymously. He finally contacts her, and she tells him to come to her dressing room when her husband, who is playing Hamlet, begins his “To be or not to be” speech. Moments later, Tura walks out on stage and begins the famous soliloquy and Sobinski stands up to head to the wings. However, Sobinski is in the second row, and his making for the exit causes a huge commotion.

This scene is the heart of this film. In addition to its plot ramifications, it is screamingly funny. Sobinski’s actions, however motivated, are the single worst nightmare of a serious actor—someone has decided to walk out during a key moment of the drama, completely spoiling the trance of the audience and ruining whatever effect the actor might want. There could be no bigger insult. Tura soldiers on, but the scene is ruined, and when the young bomber goes back stage, Tura’s marriage is suddenly in danger as well.

It’s interesting to note that both of these films, in addition to being comedies set during wartime, were critical and financial failures upon release. In fact, the release of The General caused Keaton’s film company to restrict him in the future, since the film had been so expensive to make and returned so little on the investment.

It seems like over and over authors and filmmakers both discover again and again that while war is hell, it also has the potential for humor. We laugh so that we don’t cry, or to cover our tears. We laugh because we have to, because that is all that keeps us sane. It’s what created M*A*S*H, Stalag 17, and Catch-22, and it’s what created these films as well. Mel Brooks remade To Be or Not to Be in the mid-80s with certain competence and a lot of humor, but it’s simply not the same as the original.

Why to watch The General: Perhaps the greatest silent comedy ever made.
Why not to watch: Silent films, even comedies, don’t play well today.

Why to watch To Be or Not to Be: You owe it to Carole Lombard and Jack Benny.
Why not to watch: You’re uncomfortable with the idea of humor and Nazis in the same place.