The Merry Widow

The Monarch of Marshovia sends a romantic count to Paris to woo back THE MERRY WIDOW whose vast wealth is vital to running the tiny kingdom.

Nine years after producing a non-talking film based on the Franz Lehár operetta, MGM mined the same material again, this time as a musical comedy. The Studio would give the film its trademark opulent treatment, with production values of the highest order. Celebrated lyricist Lorenz Hart was engaged to write words for the music. And, to make absolutely certain of success, director Ernst Lubitsch and stars Maurice Chevalier & Jeanette MacDonald were reunited to duplicate their previous triumphs at Paramount Studios.

If, ultimately, the film does not have quite the effervescence of Lubitsch's previous pictures, this is probably understandable. MGM, while wonderful with epics and dramas, often took an unnecessarily heavy-handed approach to subjects which should have been given a lighter, airier treatment. Also, the film was released a few months after the imposition of the Production Code, which obviously had a significant effect upon the movie's final persona.

Chevalier & MacDonald continue the on screen relationship already well established in their earlier films: she, the rather aloof and powerful female who needs a good man; he, the social inferior who wins her with his enormous Gallic charm. Their singing is vivacious & charming and sometimes you can almost understand her words.

Unlike the 1925 version of THE MERRY WIDOW, there is no villain here to provide dramatic tension. The costars, however, provide much comic amusement. Foremost among them is waspish Edward Everett Horton, very funny as Marshovia's nervous Ambassador in Paris. Rotund George Barbier & sprightly Una Merkel make the most of their small roles as the diminutive nation's conniving King and flirtatious Queen.

Some of the smaller roles are also humorously cast: Sterling Holloway as Chevalier's loyal orderly; Donald Meek as the King's gossipy valet; and Herman Bing as Horton's dramatic factotum.

Movie mavens will recognize Akim Tamiroff as the head waiter at Maxim's & Arthur Housman as a drunk (what else?) trying to gain entry into that establishment, both uncredited.

This is why Hollywood use the expression "The Lubitsch Touch". Almost every film made by that most delightful of directors was sprightly and hilarious and sexy, and this is one of his most delightful. It's the best version filmed.

Maurice Chevalier is of course just as attractive as a man can be, and Jeanette MacDonald is wonderfully funny and sexy (why oh why did she ever team up with Nelson "The Singing Capon" Eddy? With Chevalier she was enchanting, with Eddy you wanted to slap her), and the supporting cast is delightful. Wonderful script, wonderful score, fabulous thirties-period costumes, all in all a delight.

the music's the thing in this treatment of the light opera favorite. mcdonald was never better, voice and looks. ditto chevalier, acting in a role tailor-made for him. talk about a film having everything...the comedy, handled by old pros, such as sterling holloway, geo. barbier, una merkel, billy gilbert, henry armetta, donald meek, minna gombel. stupendous sets with dance scenes that were a lasting tribute to those who put them together. but as i said, the music, withal, is the thing. chevalier's "girls, girls, girls", "maxim's"; mcdonald's "delia" (was there ever a sweeter, more poignant song?), "merry widow waltz" and three or four other numbers. a truly great film. regrettably enough, mcdonald today is better remembered for the nelson eddy team-ups; personally, i prefer her with chevalier. they made at least four great musicals , the "widow" topping them all.

This film is nothing short of glorious. Before films decided they had to be realistic they had style, and Lubitsch was the style king. Everything about this film is sumptuous and beautiful, and the Oscar winning art direction of Cedric Gibbons and Fredric Hope is truly magnificent. Not bad either are the gowns of Adrian.

MacDonald and Chevalier are excellent together, there is great support from Edward Everett Horton - and who will ever forget the magic scenes between Chevalier and the king and the queen - irresitably played by Una Merkel and George Barbier. The script is witty and a little naughty ("I know what to do with her but I'm too old"), the cinematography breath-taking and the music gorgeous.

But the star of the show is Lubitsch - the mass waltz scene is magnificent, the depiction of MacDonald's mourning clothes (all black - even the dog!) and their transformation into white is astonishing and, just when you think the plot is running out of steam, he gives us an hilarious ending that is unforgettable.

If you ever get a chance to see this on the big screen, run don't walk to the cinema. A perfect 10.

Andrew Sarris once wrote that "Lubitsch suggests the art of lilting waltz or bubbling champagne" and nowhere is this truer in "The Merry Widow", Lubitsch's last musical, his first transition to MGM, and my own pick for Lubitsch's greatest musical (rivalled only by either "One Hour With You"(1932) or "The Smiling Lieutenant"(1931)). It just doesn't get any better than this. Lubitsch's approach here is to exploit Cedric Gibbons' enchanting Art Deco with wit. He also displays an eye for real, human emotion within the marvellous, dreamy world. There are many highlights, including the rousing rendition of "Delia" at the beginning, Chevalier's Danilo at the Maxim's, but the most extraordinary of all is The Merry Widow Waltz, a joyous blend of gaiety and sadness. In several successive shots, Danilo and Jeanette MacDonald's Sonia are shown alone on a dance floor and then exquisitely enveloped by hordes of dancers sweeping in from all sides - then all this enchanting splendour is climaxed by Lubitsch revealing that the whole ballroom scene is the subjective dream of the lovers. What appears to be the dance of life is in fact the dance of death.

Lubitsch will later reprise the waltz in his imperishable 1943 masterpiece "Heaven Can Wait" when Don Ameche recalls it on his death bed. Not to Mention, Alfred Hitchcock in "Shadow of a Doubt" as a reminder of death and mortality.