I almost didn't go. At the last minute I decided to. I
have loved this movie for so long I don’t remember how or when I first saw it. Was it
on TV? Was it at NIU? Did I see the movie first, or did I see the movie because
of Pauline Kael’s mini-review in the New Yorker?
Rapturous fun. Slim-hipped, wide-eyed Claudette
Colbert, stranded in Paris in an evening gown, gets involved with rich,
aristocratic John Barrymore, who is trying to regain the affections of his
straying wife, Mary Astor, who is hooked on dapper gigolo Francis Lederer. This
romantic comedy, directed by Mitchell Leisen for Paramount, from a script by
Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder, is one of the authentic delights of the 30s.
The cast includes Hedda Hopper, Monty Woolley, Elaine Barrie, Rex O'Malley, and
Don Ameche. Actually, Ameche has an important role; he isn't bad--for Ameche.
Based on a story written for the screen by Edwin Justus Mayer and Franz Schulz.
Certainly
the reason I got involved in film programming at college was to see things like
Midnight.
This
time, I was struck by its animation. It creates a sense of continuous action
from Eve’s arrival on the train to the doors marked The End slamming on Monty Woolley’s
expression of astonishment. And it is animation through a variety of moods:
romance (Eve and Tibor roaming Paris), drawing-room farce (the concert),
fairytale (Eve at the Ritz), high-society satire (Simone’s hat shop), ….
Then
the scene shifts to the Flammarion chateau in Versailles, and the mood becomes
something else. The satire rather drops away. The chateau is an idyll, a nutty idyll, but the opposite of the country houses in Woodhouse, where everyone runs
amok. This is a house where the characters all begin to come to their senses. But
they must pass through madness before things are resolved.
First,
Mme. Flammarion has to experience the pain of being an embittered, scheming,
jealous woman. The shock of almost embarrassing herself in front of her guests
is what definitively knocks Jacques out of her heart.
Second,
Eve and Tibor have to multiply their masks, adopt more and more ridiculous
roles, before they can acknowledge who they are. By her lies, Eve renders
Tibor, the truth, suspect. Being viewed as insane of course enrages him—which
of course confirms his madness to everyone else. At this point the comedy
really does become screwball, with knockabout physical comedy.
It
is all resolved in a court of law. Up to this point all the settings of the story have been clearly demarcated socially. On one hand there are the public spaces of the the train, the taxis, the cafes, and the
streets of Paris. On the other hand there are the exclusive spaces of a luxurious town house, the Ritz, a
fancy shop, a country house. There has been a progression and alternation of working class and aristocratic spaces which intersect
and are resolved in the law court.
Reality
intrudes for one moment. To excuse the fact that there is no proof of their
marriage, Eve’s lawyer claims that they were married in Shanghai, where the
public records were “destroyed by bombing.” It is only mentioned once, but the
detail is jarring. The lies and conflict of war—already overwhelming the
globe in 1939—touch even these fairytale figures. As much as we want to believe
the screwball comedy morality that love, charm, and quick-wittedness will
suffice, don’t we really share the shock of the Judge at the end? Can Tibor and Eve really survive as the sites of their chase and disguises are transformed out of
all recognition?
The
nitrate print was a lesson in how brilliant gray could be: the soft-focus
close-ups had a range from pewter to slate to silver.
The
metallic fabric gown that Eve wears throughout the whole first act sparkled
like sunlight on water.