The Devil Is a Woman

This was the seventh and last (indeed, it had been announced as such from the outset by Paramount) of the celebrated cycle of cinematic collaborations between Sternberg and Marlene Dietrich and is said to have been both their own favorite – incidentally, with it, the two effectively came full-circle by making another film (as was their first joint venture, THE BLUE ANGEL {1930}) that revolves around a middle-aged man ruining himself for love of an ungrateful young woman. It was also the third adaptation of Pierre Louys' novel "The Woman And The Puppet" that had been much admired by the French Surrealist movement and, appropriately enough, was remade much later by Luis Bunuel in 1977 as THAT OBSCURE OBJECT OF DESIRE (which turned out to be his own swan-song).

Like that version, here we also have the long-suffering 'puppet' (Lionel Atwill in one of his best non-horror roles) narrating his misfortunes with the 'woman' – albeit to a best friend (a young Cesar Romero, replacing Joel McCrea who walked off the set after a single day's shooting!) in a Spanish cantina rather than to strangers on a train! Sill, like the earlier 1929 French version, the male lead (here renamed Pasquale) meets Conchita on a snow-derailed express where Dietrich (dressed as a nun!) takes on an unattractive gypsy female dancer and he intercedes to put an end to that struggle; incidentally, there had also been a nun passenger in the Baroncelli version but she was shown sleeping through the whole ordeal! Speaking of Atwill, he had previously acted opposite Dietrich in her first non-Sternberg Hollywood film, Rouben Mamoulian's THE SONG OF SONGS (1933) which I plan to catch up with presently; besides, Sternberg was summoned to give evidence at Atwill's 1942 trial (concerning an 'immoral' Christmas 1940 party) in which the actor infamously perjured himself and, consequently, was ostracized from Tinseltown's major league and forced to spend his last four years slumming it in third-rate (if not disagreeable) flicks!

This being an adaptation emanating from Hollywood's Golden Age, it is unsurprising to find the supporting roles filled by such amiable character actors as Edward Everett Horton and Alison Skipworth (in a bigger role – as Dietrich's mother – than her character gets in either of the other available versions) who are usually known for comedy and indeed supply some non-intrusive comic relief; equally par for the course is having Dietrich sing an amusingly suggestive number and don some of the kitschiest costumes – even if, ostensibly, she is playing a poor Spanish girl! The film is set during the carnival season and this grants Sternberg the opportunity to devise some remarkably atmospheric masks; indeed, the director must have known this was going to be his last film with Dietrich because he photographed the film himself (although the great Lucien Ballard gave uncredited support – or, rather, was learning the ropes – in his second of four consecutive films for Sternberg).

Having been made after the Hays Code came into force, the film fell victim to censorship (and even a ban threat from Spain!) but its impact still comes through; a notable change concerns the famous nude dance performed by Conchita and the humiliation endured by Pasquale at her house: celebrated novelist John Dos Passos, who adapted the Louys novel, still made Dietrich a tramp, while Sternberg displayed the power of the moment through camera-work, the décor and the elements (rain is pouring down throughout the scene! The film runs for just 80 minutes but feels somewhat longer – especially since the narrative goes on after the main story had ended in the other two versions I watched and includes exclusive incidents: a duel between the two men, a visit to a hospitalized Atwill, Conchita about to leave with Romero but deciding to stick with Atwill, etc.

I had watched THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN twice previously on Italian TV in an English-language print that was accompanied by Italian subtitles that were so large that they obscured a good part of the screen!; this new viewing came via Universal's 2-Disc Set "Marlene Dietrich: The Glamour Collection" which features two double-features on a double-sided disc (the film under review sharing disc space with Rene Clair's THE FLAME OF NEW ORLEANS {1941}) while, bafflingly, Mitchell Leisen's GOLDEN EARRINGS (1947) has a disc all to itself! Funnily enough, this being yet another case of those maligned DVD-18 discs, I was unable to start the feature by pressing the "Play" button and had to do so from the chapters menu! Incidentally, the later Julien Duvivier/Brigitte Bardot remake was alternatively known as A WOMAN LIKE Satan (while is, alas, currently available only in unsubtitled form!) and there are at least two more unrelated but notable films known as THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN: Stephanie Rothman's THE VELVET VAMPIRE (1971; which I have never seen) and Damiano Damiani's star-studded nunsploitation effort, IL SORRISO DEL GRANDE TENTATORE (1974)! Ironically enough, Sternberg had intended calling his film "Capriccio Espagnole" (which would actually be retained by the Italian release prints!) but was vetoed by Paramount's current Head Of Production, Ernst Lubitsch!

A young Spanish radical in old Sevilla learns that THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN, when he falls hopelessly in love with a mysterious female.

Mesmerizing & hypnotic, this is a film which arouses all the senses. Dreamlike in its visuals & nightmarish of plot, it presents imagery so persuasive as to be practically palpable. Director Josef von Sternberg & writer John Dos Passos constructed a miniature madhouse for the mind, in which the viewer gladly finds himself consigned.

Fascinating, coy, deceptive, utterly alluring, Marlene Dietrich dominates the film as an icy-hearted harlot who strews her pathway with the broken bodies & wasted lives of the men she's betrayed. With heavily lidded eyes peering out of her disturbingly beautiful face, she is the very picture of sardonic seduction. Wisely, the film allows her a moment of amusement (for the viewer), letting her perfectly sum up her philosophy in the comic song ‘Three Sweethearts Have I.'

Dietrich's two leading men are both excellent. Lionel Atwill, sadly ignored today, once again exhibits the depth of his acting talent; Hollywood's propensity to place him in horror films often obscured his abilities. Here, he shows us a man fully aware of his complete degradation. Cesar Romero, in one of the finest roles of his early career, more than adequately carries on the tradition of the Latin Lover, but with a twist - here is a romantic hero who is not strong enough to escape from the web of the female spider.

Peevish & pompous, Edward Everett Horton is thoroughly amusing as a flustered Spanish bureaucrat.

Two wonderful English character actresses enliven the proceedings in small roles: Alison Skipworth as Dietrich's disreputable matriarch and Tempe Pigott as an old one-eyed harridan.

Movie mavens will spot Edwin Maxwell as the manager of the cigarette factory and Charles Sellon as a professional letter writer, both uncredited.

Von Sternberg created a masterwork of cinematic symbolism, with innuendo so rife it is incredible it passed the Production Code. In every way, the film is a worthy follow-up to his previous collaboration with Dietrich, the orgiastic SCARLETT EMPRESS (1934).

The last of seven Dietrich and von Sternberg collaborations suffers from the misogyny of the story on which it's based, and frankly it's also a bit of a mess. I'm not a big fan of story lines that involve an evil woman leading a man on such that he's rendered helpless by her charms, yet continues pursuing her despite her cruelty (e.g. 'Of Human Bondage' by W. Somerset Maugham, which was made into a film with Bette Davis in 1934, the year before this one). In the original story by Pierre Louÿs, whose erotic writing would sometimes dip into misogyny, the man in question eventually feels like he's had enough, and beats her. She likes this so much that he wins over, so yeah ... ugh.

This explains why the Hays Office censored the song "(If It Isn't Pain) Then It Isn't Love" from the film, even if in listening to audio recordings which survive, it doesn't seem salacious in its lyrics (e.g. "if it doesn't drive you insane, it can't be love"). In the film we do hear the beating though, after which Dietrich coos "Look at me. Look, Pasqualito. I'm black and blue. I know I've been cruel, but I'll make up for it. Tell me what you want me to do." Her hair has two circular coils in front, reminiscent of Goya's portrait of Thérèse-Louise de Sureda and clearly a reference to female anatomy, her mouth is right up to his ear and she's offering herself, but the eroticism of the scene is diminished severely because of the physical violence, which is all the more disturbing because it's shown to be appropriate, accepted by Dietrich, and effective in changing her behavior.

Dietrich does have her moments in the film, like when she makes a show of putting on her shawl and looking up at Lionel Atwill with beguiling eyes, and then later dramatically throwing open a thin curtain and with arms outstretched, staring defiantly at him. The film has high production value, with gorgeous outfits, headdresses, and hair/makeup, which maybe is the reason Dietrich liked it so much. The set designs are ornate and fabulous (iron gates and windows come to mind), and the crowd scenes showing life in Spain are energizing. It's a small scene, but I loved seeing the gypsy dancer on the train (apparently Luisa Espinel, uncredited), probably more than anything Dietrich does.

Unfortunately, Dietrich seems out of place for most of the film, and it's not just because she isn't Spanish, though that doesn't help. Early on she's much too made up, and hardly looks like she fits in the working room of cigarette rollers. As she plays cat and mouse with her suitor she acts absurdly, asking him if she's the only one in a silly, exaggerated way, and this along with other dramatic moments where she emotes oddly seemed to be Dietrich trying (and failing) to "act Spanish." It's an annoying character, and played unbelievably by Dietrich, much as it pains me to say it. Her musical performances are flat too. There's enough here to make it watchable, but you can do much better with other Dietrich/von Sternberg films.

The one thing everyone seems to miss Is that Lionel Atwill looks a lot like Sternberg. Looking at the Dietrich/Sternberg collaborations it's hard not to notice that Adolph Menjou, Herbert Marshall, and Lionel Atwill seem to be Sternberg surrogates, which knowing about the Dietrich/Sternberg relationship, adds a perversity and depth to viewing the films.

If you look at the screen test for Blue Angel available on the blue angle DVD, you can already see Dietrich's disdain that seems an enormous part of her screen character in their collaborations. The Devil is a Woman is a story of a man who ruins his career in pursuit of a woman. Pretty hard not to see parallels to Sternberg's career. This was his last big budget film and one that remains a lasting testament to "l'amour fou."

Very few aesthetic delights of the post-Code era tantalize and linger long afterwards in the mind as much as films from the Marlene Dietrich/Josef Von Sternberg partnership, and this, thankfully kept in Dietrich's vault as it was the favourite of her films, is no exception. Though anyone who knows me will readily recall I prefer the twice-Oscar nominated (for 'Morocco' and 'Shanghai Express'), Viennese expert craftsman's silent pictures to those made with the sexpot, this saga of vengeance is also superlative and well worth both purchasing and re-watching. Paramount caved in to pressure by the Spanish government, who hated the way Pierre Louÿs' novel portrayed the Spanish police, and actually destroyed the original print. Thankfully Dietrich's fear that her favourite film would otherwise be lost meant it was extremely well-preserved, and I saw my copy as part of a superlative DVD boxed set of six of her films that I've had for a few years now.