La belle ténébreuse

On this evidence, Garbo's silent work is her most accomplished. She struggles in talking roles; her dour, flat acting voice meant she had to be characterised as emotionless - hence the iceberg persona, and she was probably glum because she knew she was struggling. Here we can see her real eloquence and the confidence behind it that comes of knowing she is shimmering and wonderful. In contrast to many other silent stars who exaggerated every gesture, Garbo shows intelligence and discrimination in her movements, which involves a lot of posturing but is not unnatural. She uses her natural grace for expression, particularly her arms - she really is lithe and expressive - and she must have missed all that later in her career.

Fred Niblo's inventive direction here also impresses; he never lets a scene go dry and the narrative method is almost as sophisticated as a talkie as he brings out a good deal of subtle but telling body language. We watch characters speak and can pretty much divine what they're saying, which reduces the need for irksome intertitles.

The first part of the film, set in Vienna, is a romantic encounter, deceptively straightforward. But there is intrigue in store, and in the latter half of the film, set in Warsaw, tension consistently mounts as every scene is built around suspense - don't think that Hitchcock invented this stuff. Garbo and her leading man, Conrad Nagel, seem connected to each other on rubber bands such is the dramatic bond between them.

At the climax is a superb trick that will make you exclaim out loud. This could be the best film I've seen this year.

A young Austrian officer doesn't realize how profoundly THE MYSTERIOUS LADY he meets at the Opera will change his life.

Greta Garbo's entrancing beauty is the main attraction in this Silent drama from MGM. Her face alone would have assured her a place in film history. But this film, which deals with World War One espionage, has other things to offer, including a good performance from Conrad Nagel as Garbo's co-star. The story is a wee bit ludicrous, but MGM graced the film with excellent production values as befits a movie starring their enormously popular star. (The idyllic afternoon sequence shared between the two lovers is especially commendable.) The plot does have some fair degree of excitement and should not disappoint the typical viewer.

Ably filling smaller roles are Gustav von Seyffertitz as the evil Russian spymaster and Edward Connelly as the head of the Austrian Secret Service, who also happens to be Nagel's uncle. Movie mavens will recognize an unbilled big Russ Powell as a rain-drenched carriage driver.

This silent film has been given a fine orchestral background score by Vivek Maddala.

Writing scores for silent movies requires a considerable talent, but for some pictures the music must practically write itself. This is not to play down the efforts of the many fine score composers, but simply to say that for someone with musical ability, a picture such as The Mysterious Lady is constantly suggestive of melody, tempo and timbre, in a way that translates naturally into a musical setting.

This musical effect is, it seems, largely down to the director Fred Niblo. Niblo, an ex-Vaudevillian who married into the Cohan family, came into motion pictures relatively late in life (he first sat in the director's chair at 42), but he soon proved himself to be one of the finest and most poetic craftsmen of the cinema. The Mysterious Lady was made at a time when the talkies were beginning to muscle in, but Niblo proudly blows a trumpet blast for the dying art form. Interestingly, The Mysterious Lady actually contains a lot of examples of images filling in for sound. Sometimes this is for narrative purposes, such as the superimposition of the opera scene when Nagel plays the piano, to inform the audience of what he is playing. Other times it is purely atmospheric, such as the shot of a row of violins in the orchestra, later grimly echoed by a similarly composed shot of the drums at Nagel's degradation.

Throughout, the picture sustains a lovely rhythmic flow. The love scene between Garbo and Nagel is delicately suggested through a series of interlocking images, unspoiled by intertitles. Niblo shows complete control over the pace at any one moment, the first few minutes being frenzied and choppy, then slowing to that glorious romantic feel when Garbo is introduced in a very memorable entrance. Only once does Niblo overdo it, when he throws in a superimposition of Nagel daydreaming about assaulting Garbo – the context and Nagel's uncomfortable expression are enough without this heavy-handed display.

So if Niblo was a kind of visual composer, who was his muse? Well, let's not extend a metaphor too far, but it certainly appears that Niblo was inspired to make beautiful images to complement the natural beauty of Greta Garbo. And to an admirer of fine dramatic performance Garbo is doubly beautiful because she is such an outstandingly good actress. At a period when too much screen acting was hammy and unsubtle, Garbo was refreshingly understated. To watch a Garbo picture, especially a silent one, is to witness dozens of little moments of performance genius. One example here is when her character hears the news that von Raden has been imprisoned because of her. She shows the tiniest glimmer of a reaction, enough for the audience to pick up on and understand, but not enough for her character to give herself away to those around her. Garbo captivated audiences with her mysterious allure and startling passion – the X-factor that made her a phenomenal star.

Like the silent picture, Niblo's days as a director were coming to an end. Whether his decision to retire a few a few years after this was down to the sound revolution or not I am unsure. I have not seen any of the handful of talkies he made, and I simply don't know whether he gave them the same grace and musicality that we see here. What I do know, what every film buff knows, is what Greta did next. Of all Hollywood stars, Garbo's transition from silence to sound was among the most successful. Such was her power, her naturalism and her overwhelming appeal, that in spite of the 1930s demand for more earthy performers, she remained one of our brightest stars.

If you care for Garbo's sound movies go back and see what made her such a sensational international star. This one is a delight. She is most seductive with the grace and glide of an animal. One of my favorite of all of her films. You can easily see why people became Garbomanics. There was nothing like her on the screen...before or since.

Greta Garbo's usual fine performance, along with a good supporting cast and an interesting (if somewhat familiar) story, make "The Mysterious Lady" a very good melodrama. It has a good mix of romance, intrigue, and suspense that gets the most out of the fairly simple premise, and along the way there are also some good touches by director Fred Niblo.

In a part similar to her role in the better-known "Mata Hari", Garbo here plays a glamorous Russian spy who targets an Austrian officer, aiming at first to steal important military secrets, but soon genuinely falling in love with him. The conflict between personal feelings and perceived patriotic duty sets up the rest of the drama, and it builds up to an interesting climactic scene, with an exuberant party taking place in Warsaw while, in a private room, a tense confrontation plays out.

Besides keeping a good pace and atmosphere, there are a few places where Niblo's direction also highlights key props in a fashion that would have pleased Hitchcock. And while Garbo as usual dominates the screen, the supporting cast features solid performances. Conrad Nagel plays the Austrian, with Gustav Von Seyffertitz as a Russian spy-master. Perhaps the best performance in the supporting cast is by Edward Connelly, in a smaller role as Nagel's uncle. It's a good combination that makes for a very good movie.