So much average

Memorable, crazy movie

A different way of telling a story

It's entirely possible that sending the audience out feeling lousy was intentional

For cinema of this era I go to Pabst for ecstatic hovering out of self, the self that finds itself at the mercy of narratives; a true master that filmmakers like Lynch are still tapping into the potential of what he showed. Sternberg gives me feverish exaggeration of the same, a kind of grotesque sculpting in emotional air. Pabst seeks to transcend the constraints imposed by fictitious reality on self, Sternberg gives into the anguish they create. Lang turns these same constraints into monumental machinery that strike awe, but his way is much less interesting overall I think. And then there's this other maker who made the leap from Germany to Hollywood. Yet another way of dealing with fictitious reality here. With Lubitsch I come for the joyous dismantling of expectation; the constraints of fictions, our expectation that story plays out a certain way, are marvelously upended, opening us up to paradox and surprise. Here fictions are fanciful guises we put on to push each other, the constraints are opportunities for improvisation. There's this famed thing people call the Lubitsch 'touch', often in vague terms of exaltation, as any synonym for mastery. It's a specific thing he masters; spontaneous illogicality. You'll see a great demonstration in just the opening sequence here. It's one I'll keep with me when needing to discuss Lubitsch. A man lies unconscious in a dark empty apartment at night; something sinister has happened. Now cut to a man and woman meeting in another place. They're both royalty we find out, baron and countess. She had to sneak in there to meet him, improper mischief is implied, a desire to conceal. Soon we understand that neither is who we thought they were and the place where they meet is right next door to the unconscious man.It's a small masterstroke in pushing back horizon with just a few gestures. Like when the man gets up angry at having been found out, locks the door, draws the curtains; we imagine violence is coming. But they sit right back to eat, kindred souls delighted in each other's brilliant boldness of play-acting. The rest of the film flows by with much the same play-acting. We see a woman being set up to be conned, a rich Parisienne who scoffs at the men who desire her but falls for his suave charm. He insinuates himself into her home and begins controlling a story, fictitious reality. The suave charm of the film lies in seeing him, ever the cunning narrator, con his way out of difficult situations that might expose him while the noose tightens around him. Eventual unmaskings come with a certain largesse of heart that can only come by the hand of a filmmaker who sees fictitious reality as one large stage play and revels in the illusoriness of it all. It beats sulking into a corner, taking the caprices of human behavior to heart. So no hard feelings on her part at having been set up with fictitious romance. She shoos them out like mischievous kids. In turn he regrets that he couldn't split himself in two and leave one self behind to live a life with her. Herbert Marshall has more ruthless eyes than needed to convey longing here (or perhaps the point is that he cannot resist feigning to the end); but he's superb as wily narrator.But how about this notion as well. His girlfriend partner in crime has been in on the con all along, disguised as secretary in the same house. Had she not caved in to jealousy at the last moment, they would have pulled their plot clean off. It's this outpour of impulsive self that destroys the fiction and allows us to have the generous letting go of.

Produced and directed by Ernst Lubitsch, with an adaptation by Grover Jones and a screenplay by Samson Raphaelson that were based on a play by Aladar Laszlo, this essential romantic comedy was added to the National Film Registry in 1991.It stars Miriam Hopkins and Herbert Marshall as thieves who are 'two peas in a pod' and romantic soul mates who meet while trying to con others, and each other; they are Lily and La Valle, respectively. The notorious La Valle then finds employment as Gaston Monescu, becoming a live-in assistant to Madame Mariette Colet, played by Kay Francis. He courts Mme. Colet as he cons her, and later involves Lily in his scheme, though his partner in crime is unsure of his real attraction to the wealthy woman, who's also being romantically pursued by others from within her same class, like the Major (Charles Ruggles) and François Filiba (Edward Everett Horton), who are also very protective of her. C. Aubrey Smith plays Adolph J. Giron and Robert Greig plays Colet's butler Jacques.A marvelous comedy and film which demonstrates (as well as any) the 'Lubitsch' touch, the director's unique style that includes its Art Direction, Cinematography, and overall feel. Luis Alberni and Leonid Kinskey are among those who appear uncredited.

Why belabor what critics claim is a classic, so I'll simply summarize my reaction under brief headings.Elegant?- yes indeed. The studio's high-end wardrobe is deployed to the last cummerbund. Witty?- yes indeed. The bon mots are tossed off like pearls to the rabble.Sophisticated?- without doubt. For example. Sex- a game with no losers. Crime- a sleight of hand with no victims. Style?- So smooth, the camera slides over itself.Performances?- Everyone poses beautifully.Sum Total?- A European touch for the American masses.Audience Rating?-FTWO (For The Worldly Only)My Rating?- Two chuckles, no laughs, and a new appreciation for The Three Stooges.

The line "they don't make movies like that anymore" is one of the most overused in talking about pictures, but in this case it is true. This is a remarkable example of the sort of sophisticated, innuendo-laced light comedy that Hollywood was making until the Hays Code put an end to them. There is not one crude line; we never see anything sexier than a kiss, and they are far from torrid. But this movie implies sex, and more interestingly sexual intrigue and passion, throughout. The duologue is uniformly wonderful, with lines that you will never forget. I can't say there is any real substance to this picture. There isn't. But it is gossamer of the finest quality. Herbert Marshall, who usually strikes me as a cypher, here shows what made him so popular for awhile: he has a wonderful voice, which he can shape and mold to imply whatever he wants. Miriam Hopkins' charms still generally elude me, though she is good in the opening scene. Kay Francis is much more enjoyable here delivering double-entendres than in the sort of heavy parts she got assigned to too often. In short, everything is wonderful.I couldn't believe how fast this movie flew by. There was not a dead moment. This is not a celluloid masterpiece, another Citizen Kane or Les Règles du jeu. But it is one remarkable, sophisticated comedy. You will definitely enjoy it.-------------------------------I watched it again tonight, and still found it enjoyable. The dialog is clever, the tempo just right and never lags. As I wrote before, it's a piece of fluff, but a perfectly-paced, perfectly-acted one that will never let you down, even for a moment. Not as good as the Lubitsch movies with Chevalier and MacDonald, but still a fun hour plus.