Movie Review: Angel

Angel (1937) 
directed by Ernst Lubitsch, starring Marlene Dietrich, Herbert Marshall, Melvyn Douglas

In the salons of the Grand Duchess Anna Dmitrievna (Laura Hope Crews), two people meet by chance. Diplomat Anthony "Tony" Halton (Melvyn Douglas), who's looking for an attractive escort to show him around Paris, and a beautiful, mysterious woman (Marlene Dietrich), who excites his imagination. Because she refuses to tell him her name, he knows her only as "Angel." After a dreamlike interlude in the park, she runs away from him and while he searches for his elusive Angel, a woman known as Maria returns to her husband, the illustrious British diplomat, Sir Frederick Barker (Herbert Marshall). Frederick and Maria are widely acknowledged as the perfect couple. As they like to joke to each other, they can't even find anything to quarrel about. But their marriage faces its test when Tony Halton discovers that his heart's ideal and Sir Frederick's ideal wife are the same woman.

 
Angel marks an ending point in the careers of both Marlene Dietrich and Ernst Lubitsch. It was Dietrich's last role before Destry Rides Again permanently changed her onscreen image. 1937 was not a happy year for Dietrich's career; both Angel and the Korda epic Knight Without Armor flopped. In 1937, Ernst Lubitsch was nearing the end of his Paramount years and the unenthusiastic reception of Angel and the following year's Bluebeard's Eighth Wife showed that the master's golden touch was looking a little coppery. He would come back and how with Ninotchka in 1939, but Angel shows both he and Dietrich trying fitfully to adjust to the cinematic standards of Post-Code Hollywood.

At first glance, the plot seems like it's heading in the same fun, frothy direction of Lubitsch's Pre-Code classics, Trouble in Paradise and Design for Living. In Trouble in Paradise, the dashing thief Gaston has to choose between his partner in crime and the lovely victim of his con game. He goes for the fellow thief, but the film doesn't make an issue of Gaston's infidelity; he's simply responding to the attractions of both women. Design for Living goes even further by having the love triangle resolve into a happy ménage à trois. Both films suggest that monogamy is pretty much unimportant in the quest for romantic happiness. Angel starts out as yet another variation on the Lubitsch triangle, with Marlene Dietrich navigating what appears to be the beginning of a bedroom farce.

However, Angel has something a little more serious in mind. In other Lubitsch films, infidelity was more of a game. It was also something relegated entirely to bedrooms and parlors and the sophisticated, private worlds of elegant people. Here, there is no question of privacy; Maria Barker's very public role as the perfect wife means that she can't act only to please herself.  Her choice between two lovers is made even more uneasy by the fact that both of them are diplomats and whichever she chooses, she will be subjected to the same scrutiny. This point is hammered home in a scene where her husband's servant natters on about how the Barkers' marriage has been his own romantic ideal. Lubitsch carries the point further in a later moment at a horse race. Just as the servant and his fiance are watching her through binoculars, Maria looks through her own pair and sees the man she met in Paris. There is no possibility of escape for Maria; her public and private worlds are inextricably linked.

 

  
Lubitsch does some beautiful visual work in this film. I love the way his camera sweeps leisurely through each room of the Grand Duchess' salons and the way it slides smoothly down the length of a musician's violin to the lovers he is serenading, connecting them both in one serenely romantic moment. The grace of his Paris sequences is sharply contrasted with his introduction to Marshall in one brusque pan across the windows of a moving train, Marshall's back to the camera as a furiously upbeat march pounds away in the background.  Whenever Marshall makes an appearance in the film, the editing turns staccato, highlighting his character's busy, distracted nature. There are also some moments of great visual shorthand; Maria's anxiety is masterfully sketched out in a brief shot of a maid carrying away an overflowing ashtray in the early hours of the morning.

It's hard to admit, with all the intelligence and craft put into this picture that, "Well, it just isn't much fun." For one thing, the pace lags, which is not a typical problem for a Lubitsch film. After two grand introductions to Marlene's character, first as the reluctant lover and then as the gentle wife, we are treated to scene after scene of the Barkers' stifling marriage. These scenes don't build on each other but rather seem to sleepwalk. The couple make polite chitchat, Dietrich looks uncomfortable, Marshall oblivious, and then back to square one. After a while it all becomes a snooze, especially when both actors are obviously not at their best. 

Marlene Dietrich is fine in her early scenes, flirting with Melvyn Douglas, but when she has to start playing the trophy wife, it becomes clear that she has absolutely no clue how to play demure. You can almost gauge her uncertainty by how much she bats her eyelashes per scene. The more stilted her acting, the more she butterflies those lashes. As for Herbert Marshall, it pains me to say this, since I've loved him in other roles, but he is completely colorless here. In order for the story to work, there has to be some sense that Marshall's workaholic diplomat is capable of the same ardent passion as his rival. But there isn't and during Marshall's scenes, my mind wandered to more interesting concerns, like wondering if this film's thesis was that European diplomats in the 1930s were spending way too much time on their work.
  
Melvyn Douglas (one of my favorites) is polished in an underwritten role. His role here can be considered a dry run for Ninotchka: the suave, callow gentleman that reacts with happy bewilderment to the screen goddess who's wandered into his path. In Angel, however, Douglas doesn't have a crackling Brackett and Wilder script to buoy him up. His tendency to underplay, combined with an uneasy Dietrich and somnolent Marshall, makes the love triangle feel less important than it needs to be. And considering the film's reluctance to implicate Dietrich in any adultery, his character's lovelorn obsession feels pretty one-sided.  That's post-Code romance for you; one kiss on a moonlit park bench is enough to turn a man into a transcontinental stalker.

And that ultimately is Angel's problem: the demands of the Code. The film feels like an uneasy transition from the giddy Paramount comedies of the early 30s into Post-Code morality, where marriage is sacrosanct. Angel is too sober, too cautious, too coy about the realities of sex or marriage and as a result, it doesn't manage to say much about anything. There are touches of wit here and there (for example, Douglas and Marshall bonding over their shared memories of the same French prostitute), but the film is ultimately more interesting as a way station in the careers of Dietrich and Lubitsch than it is as a story. It's most worthwhile for the beauty of its visuals, for the elegance of its camera work. The final shot is a lovely, wordless moment of reconciliation that feels exactly right. Or would, if Angel had earned it. 

Favorite Quote: 

"I don't want to know your name. Whatever it is, it wouldn't suit you."

Favorite Scene:

Maria's recounting of an erotic dream to her bemused husband Sir Frederick. First, she describes her arrival at the League of Nations, dressed to the nines, while her husband drones on and on. The dream-Maria escapes, goes to Egypt, Arabia, circling the globe, only to come back and find her husband still talking. So she drags him away and they return home. "The next thing I remember, we were here at home and you were beating me...I'm afraid to tell you, I liked it. Then you started to kiss me." Frederick responds to this epic confession of Maria's desires with a slight smile and asks, "Did you like that, too?" Maria smiles back. "Better than ever before. And then you carried me upstairs." The dream ends there, but Dietrich's flirtatious delivery of this speech will certainly linger in my memory.

Final Six Words:

Elegant, unhappy story of love lost

Movie Review: In Old Chicago

 

In Old Chicago (1937)

directed by Henry King, starring Tyrone Power, Don Ameche, Alice Faye 

The widowed Mrs. O'Leary (Alice Brady) and her three sons come to the city of Chicago in 1854, determined to fulfill the hopes and dreams of the late Mr. O'Leary (J. Anthony Hughes). With a little effort and ingenuity, they become modestly successful and Chicago thrives along with them. The youngest one, Bob (Tom Brown), is content to just help his mother milk the cow and while away his spare time flirting with the pretty Swedish servant Gretchen (June Storey). But the older boys have much grander ambitions. 

The eldest, Jack (Don Ameche), is an idealistic, fervently reformist lawyer, who dreams of someday wiping out the corruption in the town. Starting with "The Patch," where Chicago's morally unencumbered citizens go to get some cheap fun and booze. The middle brother, Dion (Tyrone Power), has no problem whatsoever with dens of sin and sets himself up as a saloon owner in the Patch, with the assistance of singer Belle Fawcett (Alice Faye), who becomes his business partner and lover. Dion also has no moral qualms in dirtying his fingers with a little political corruption and pulls a few strings to get Jack elected Mayor of Chicago. But Jack will not be deterred in his quest to destroy the Patch. And the former big man of Chicago, Gil Warren (Brian Donlevy), is out to ruin the brothers. Everything comes to a head on the night that Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicks over a lantern...

In Old Chicago is definitely a product of Hollywood's "Me-Too" Syndrome. It's so obviously copycatting the previous year's San Francisco (beautiful female singer, a saloon keeper, a moral crusader, and a natural disaster that will redeem them all) that if you squint, you can almost see the actors hitting the same chalk marks. Not that Darryl F. Zanuck was even trying to be subtle about this. He originally planned to swipe Clark Gable, in a reprise of his San Francisco role, and Gable's frequent costar Jean Harlow as the leads. Harlow's untimely death would derail those plans. Instead, the film went ahead with a trio of stars that would become Twentieth-Century Fox's front line: Don Ameche, Tyrone Power, and Alice Faye. This was only Power's second leading role (after Lloyds of London) and it would be a big leap forward for Alice Faye as her persona shifted from knock-off Jean Harlow to warm, mellow-voiced lady of song. 

By today's standards, In Old Chicago barely qualifies as a disaster film. It's roughly seventy-five minutes of romance, family drama, and Alice Faye's singing; the grand spectacle of the 1871 Chicago Fire is all crammed into the last twenty minutes. The heart of the story is not the fire, but Chicago itself, split between high ideals and a down and dirty good time. The film isn't at all subtle in trying to portray this conflict, as personified by its Cain and Abel protagonists. The O'Leary brothers constantly flip-flop between being allies and rivals, sometimes within the same scene. Jack vows to destroy the Patch and its saloons and proudly tells Dion so to his face. Dion, in his turn, shovels some political dirt in order to get his brother elected mayor with apparently no awareness that his brother might have a problem with that. "Well," says pretty near every character in the movie, "we O'Learys are a strange tribe" (after about thirty repetitions of this catchphrase I wanted to take it outside and beat it with a stick). 

And yet, I found myself enjoying In Old Chicago quite a bit, and much more than I thought I would. What it lacks in subtlety, it makes up for with the charm and sweetness of its principal cast and the smooth direction of Henry King. King, Ameche, Power, and Faye would go on to make Alexander's Ragtime Band the following year and you can see why the studio liked to team them up. Together they keep the film running along quite pleasantly, so that you can enjoy the character's drama without waiting impatiently for the fire to start. Although the film does provide us with a villain in the form of Brian Donlevy and he does get a spectacular death scene in the film's final minutes, there is really no cynicism to In Old Chicago. Even the back-door politics end not in recrimination or ruin, but in balletic fistfights.

In its opening stretches, In Old Chicago fooled me into thinking this was going to be a self-important slog. It begins with the death of Jack and Dion's father, the very Irish Mr. O'Leary, who falls prey to the worst sickness of Hollywood historical epics: prophesying. Just take a look at his dying speech after being dragged by a horse: "'Tis a grand new place this Chicago...It'll be rich and strong like I was always minding to be. 'Tis a boom and you'll boom with it. Someday you'll be fine, big men. A credit to me name. And everybody speaking with respect of the O'Learys. And how they grew up with the city. And put their mark on it...Just bury me here and let Chicago come to me. I couldn't come to it." Thankfully, he expires before he can go on to predict the World Fair, the White Sox, and Bob Fosse.

Once he's out of the way, the story really gets going, as Jack and Dion grow up to be friends and rivals. Tyrone Power and Don Ameche had great chemistry together; they feel believable as brothers which smooths over some of the inconsistencies in their characters. There's a scene where Dion is watching Jack prosecute one of Dion's cronies, and even when he's supposed to be on the other side, Dion's eyes follow his speechifying brother with amazement and glee. That's his big brother up there after all. Watching the two of them play pool together or dress side by side or break out into spontaneous Irish dancing, you feel like there's history there. In real life, Ameche and Power were great friends and Ameche would be best man at Power's wedding to the actress Annabella. On the Fox lot, Ameche often played second fiddle to Power as his friend soared to matinee idol status, but the two easygoing actors didn't let it bother them.

  

Tyrone Power was all of twenty-three when he made this picture. There isn't a great deal of depth to Dion, but Power has the right amount of boyish charm and exuberance to keep the character likable. Otherwise, he's kind of a jerk. Making dirty political deals, double-crossing people, proudly telling his brother that the only reason he became mayor was through Dion's chicanery, proudly telling his new wife that now she can't testify against him...the list goes on. And yet, Tyrone Power brings an innocence to the character that Clark Gable couldn't have. There's a kind of "Ha-ha-ain't I clever" quality to Dion's dealings. He's just a kid seeing how much he can get away with. And he has a kid's expectations of how things turn out right; there's a scene where he literally hurls his mother and his lover Belle into the same carriage so they can start getting along. Dion spends most of the movie getting away with nearly everything he attempts, thus setting up for the climax of the film, in which his callowness must be burned away by the Great Chicago Fire.

Don Ameche is stuck playing the role of the good brother Jack, the one whose moral crusade slams right into his brother's high life. While the movie ostensibly sides with Jack on the questions of morality, the heart of In Old Chicago is really with Dion and Belle and the raucous saloons of the Patch. Fortunately for the character and the movie, Ameche doesn't play Jack as the pompous killjoy. He's just a little stiff-necked. And when the time comes for him to punch his brother, Dion has definitely deserved it. I have to admit I have a soft spot for Don Ameche (and secretly enjoy him more than I do Power), even though he has a reputation as a lightweight. Although is it just me or does the famous Ameche grin get a little frightening when he bares it full force? Power, too.

I have to slip in a side note that a lot of reviews of In Old Chicago claim that there's a love triangle between Jack, Dion, and Belle. Even the usually reliable TCM website says so. Well, there isn't. Not even so much as a hint. The romance is all between Dion and Belle. Jack doesn't meet her until halfway through the film and is nothing less than pleased as punch that his brother's marrying such a nice girl. That's it. No longing looks, no attempts to flirt with her, no last-minute confessions. Maybe people are mixing it up with Alexander's Ragtime Band? In any case, I'm glad that In Old Chicago didn't go for the obvious tack of making the brothers rivals in love as well as everything else.

This was my first encounter with Alice Faye, once one of Fox's crown jewels and now known only to movie buffs. David Shipman's description of her in The Great Movie Stars was my introduction to her: "She was blonde, cuddly, shapely and kind--almost bovine. When men crossed her, she didn't start throwing things...but quietly left the room, her eyes welling with tears....she was no great shakes as an actress but hers is the supreme example of an amiable temperament caught by the camera." Can you see why I didn't exactly rush to the video store for Alice Faye movies? 

But Shipman was only half right. Faye is blonde and cute and likable on screen. But she also gets to be smart and snappy and, in a running gag, does throw quite a lot of things at Tyrone Power. Her character Belle is a showgirl, but she's also a savvy woman who takes Dion as a business partner and lover in that order. There's a nice moment where Dion and Belle are planning some election day shenanigans during a dance and Belle slips him the A-OK signal without missing a beat. Faye was known for her singing and she gets to show off her warm contralto several times. Though I do have to wonder if the movie finds any irony in having Faye sing a loving rendition of "Carry Me Back to Old Virginny" while its main villain reminisces fondly about his slave-catching days a few scenes later. Faye's performance is one of the things that weights the movie towards the "sinners" more than the "saints" since Belle is an independent, fun-loving and sympathetic woman. Far more interesting in fact than the O'Leary's very Irish Mother though for some reason, Alice Brady won an Oscar for her work here. Possibly it was a compensation Oscar for last year's My Man Godfrey?

The Great Chicago Fire, as reproduced by Fox, is one hell of a way to end a movie and the special effects here still hold up after nearly seventy-five years. With no help from computer graphics, the Fox Team created a stunning set piece of fire and smoke and controlled chaos. At the time, this was one of the most expensive films ever made and watching these last scenes, you can't help but be awed by the effort that went into them. There's a beautiful tracking shot of Tyrone Power walking through the dazed, dirty crowd huddled in the water as the flames and smoke rise above them. It's like he's literally walking through Hell.

In Old Chicago isn't about historical accuracy. It's about our idea of what this history was and how it was made. The movie makes the point that a city needs someone like Jack, someone with ideals, who can clean things up and make them safe and lawful. But then, would someone like Jack ever get elected without the help of someone like Dion? The film doesn't go far enough or deep enough with its ideas, but where it does go, it's entertaining and goodhearted. And unlike many disaster movies, you don't walk out of it feeling dumber. All in all, this was a great movie to watch on my birthday.

Favorite Quote: 

"You may be mayor, but I'm Chicago."

Favorite Scene: 

My vote would have to go for Dion and Belle's first kiss. He has been following her around, determined to win away a piece of land she owns. And possibly her heart into the bargain since he likes what he sees of her. To that end, he's been pursuing her, declaring mad passionate love and getting nowhere. Finally, he barges into her lacy, overstuffed bedroom. Belle, fed up with this nineteenth-century stalking, starts throwing vases, pillows, and knickknacks in his direction, yelling for him to get out. He tries to calm her and they end up tussling, with him holding her arms and pleading. Thanks to one clumsy kick, both of their legs go out from under them and they end up sprawled on the floor. The maid finds them and runs away screaming for the police. Dion leans over to Belle and they sink into a kiss. Opening her eyes, Belle asks calmly, "Now, won't you tell me what this is all about?" Dion insists that he loves her. "I mean, really," Belle says. "Well, you have a piece of property on Randolph Street and I thought that if you and I were to put up a place like Warren's, only better, more class, we could make a lot of money. But I really meant that about being crazy about you." Belle laughs and looks over at him. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? I'm a businesswoman. I'd have listened to any proposition without all this foolishness." Her wonderful, matter-of-fact smile clinches the scene.

Final Six Words: 

A fun, fictional, fiery good time