Agent X27

One up front negative: Victor McLaglen as a dashing, adventurous Russian officer is very badly miscast.

This is a World War I Mata Hari genre film with Marlene Dietrich recruited by the Austrian Secret Service to spy for them against the Russians. Like the other Von Sternberg/Dietrich collaborations this is all about visual texture and Marlene's incredible persona (which is very much due to her equally incredible talent). Both come together perfectly in the amazing masked ball scene full, full, full of confetti, long twisted streamers, costumed revelers, and uncurling paper party-horns that you blow through to make a high pitched little squeal.

In one remarkable scene Marlene is hypnotic just saying, "No." "Yes." "Noooo." and "Maybe." In another her dialog is a hilarious and inimatable series of "Meowwws." I don't remember her singing in this one but she plays the piano with abandon. Nevermind the plot, this is a film you watch because it is a great vehicle for one of film's greatest, if not the greatest, stars and because it is great cinema.

It is best to write first about von Sternberg's aesthetic as some have not grasped it so well in my opinion. When I first watched his "The Scarlet Empress" my initial feeling was that it was very silly; as a historical portrait of Catherine the Great of Russia it's ludicrous, in every palace scene these grotesque and implausible Russian Orthodox inspired gargoyles and paraphernalia loom out of the darkness. The palace sets reek of congenital insanity and cobwebbed decay that is decadently overblown. This is not the point though, for what we are seeing is not Tsarist Russia, but childhood dreams of Tsarist Russia. Who as a child if they read of Rasputin or Mata Hari, or Jack the Ripper didn't fully over-egg the pudding in their mind? My favourite dream is of an insomniac Russian court listening to those inestimable gifts of Bach, the Goldberg variations. You will never see my fever dream as I am not Josef von Sternberg, one of the greatest artistic geniuses (I really mean that word) of the Twentieth century.

Dishonored I am told is the least of the Dietrich/Sternberg collaborations, if that is so, then it is the least of the great peaks of the Himalayas in filmic terms. It is almost pure dreamscape. The film is in some respects an elaborate parry and thrust duello between Dietrich's X-27 and Victor McLaglen's Colonel Kranau, an Austrian and a Russian spy during The Great War.

It has been said that McLaglen was miscast in this movie. That for me is palpably false. McLaglen is mainly known for his stock character roles in John Ford movies, usually playing slightly oafish but well-meaning fellows. It may be the case that folks have been unable to disentangle that persona from what they saw in this film. My own personal blind spot is that I can only see Norman Bates when I see an Anthony Perkins movie, which ruins them every time. For me Victor's smile, which is all you see in the masked ball, is perfect for the role, his lifestyle and way with the women positively makes James Bond look like a rank amateur. There is an almost balletic moment in Dietrich's (why not say Dietrich when we are dealing with such an artificial delight?) bedroom where Victor effortlessly catches her hand as she whirls away from him; how can a movie be so controlled yet seemingly effortless? What this film leaves you with, which is the way of life of both Kranau and X-27, is the feeling of being neither afraid of life nor of death. These are two super-people leading exorbitantly fulfilled existences. Frankly I was overcome by this film. The masked ball, with Kranau grinning and hobbling away on his crutches will stay with me until I am dribbling and senile.

It is right and honest and proper to dedicate something you enjoyed doing. So I dedicate this review to Claire B, who is wonderful.

Well now this is just very silly. As others have pointed out, Victor McLaglen acts his best but is fatally miscast - too rigid, charmless, snide and creepy in a role that is crying out for a Clark Gable or Cary Grant.

On the other hand Dietrich was never more beautiful, and you can feel Sternberg's worshipping of her through the camera lens. The photography is luscious and the BluRay restoration a joy. Warner Oland has a small role as something other than Charlie Chan, which is very odd to see.

The story, dialogue and characters are thoroughly unbelievable at every turn, and the whole thing, really, is just a delirious but delightful mess, a stilted, fevered, nonsensical fairytale dream about spies, but no less likeable for all that. Accept it and love it for what it is, because it isn't like anything else.

Having just viewed this movie for the first time, I must say that from what I've seen written about Dishonored it seems somewhat unappreciated. While perhaps not a masterpiece on the level of other von Sternberg/Dietrich pairings, such as the two greats The Blue Angel and Blonde Venus, like them both it oozes with the unmistakable marks of its director: the stark dialogue, the lavish attention to atmosphere (such as all the wonderful interiors), and a pervading sense of marvelous oddness. Von Sternberg shows us that the real triumph of his cinema is not one of the reality it affords, but one of style, of which Dishonored has enough to spare.

Dishonoured is an under-appreciated masterpiece. Frequently omitted from lists of collaborations between Dietrich and Von Sternberg, the film is absolutely essential to an understanding of the director's artistic technique and the actor's evolution into her status as an icon for every subsequent femme fatale. Von Sternberg applies a rich sequence of layers of style and character that embellish Dietrich's icily stunning allure as an intelligent woman engaged in a deadly quest for more temporal power in the form of top secret military intelligence and empowerment over the men she manipulates. Along the way, his penetrating interpretation of social conventions depicts a chiaroscuro of surrealistic fantasy in contrast with the gritty reality of doom that engulfs his heroine who is ultimately transformed into a martyr to her own - and universal - femininity.