L'ottava moglie di Barbablu

There is something about seeing a movie in a good, old-fashioned movie house that adds enormous appeal to every picture. I, fortunately enough, was able to see at Film Forum in New York City a pair of Ernst Lubitsch comedies during their three week tribute to the legendary director. The double feature I attended was a screening of Lubitsch's 1938 comedy Bluebeard's Eighth Wife and the pre-Code classic Design for Living, neither of which I had seen before. Everything I read of Design for Living praised the film, but I could not find a good review anywhere for Bluebeard's Eighth Wife. Leonard Maltin disliked it.VideoHound, too, gave the comedy a low rating.its IMDB score was not complimentary.and Pauline Kael (not a great surprise) blasted the film in her scathing review. So, when I went into the city that day I was expecting to enjoy Bluebeard's Eighth Wife only slightly and love Design for Living completely. Bluebeard's Eighth Wife (which was showing first) began, as the eccentrics who populate the cinema took their seats and the thirties music subsided. `Adolph Zukor presents Claudette Colbert and Gary Cooper in Ernst Lubitsch's Bluebeard's Eighth Wife,' the title card read. Then the picture opened with a hilarious scene: Cooper wants to buy a pair of pajama tops, but he doesn't want any part of the bottoms! He gets into a squabble with the clerk, who seeks the help of his higher bosses, and their seems to be no end to the argument. Enter Claudette Colbert, one of thirties cinema's most beautiful, charming, and talented personalities. `I'll take the bottom,' she kindly intercedes. And there you have perhaps screwball comedies finest `meet cute' ever. The film kept my interest wonderfully.I found myself laughing almost constantly. When Colbert discovers, just before a family portrait is taken, that her groom-to-be has been married seven times, the entire theatre broke into histerics. When she bargains for money immediately after she gets over her shock, the laughs (which still haven't ceased) intensify. And Edward Everett Horton milked some hilarious reactions out of the script as well. When Cooper takes inspiration from Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew in disciplining his wife by slapping her in the face, I could not control my laughter when she slapped him back. And the drunk scene with the scallions is one of Claudette Colbert's funniest comic scenes. The greatest comic moment of the film came when Colbert highers a boxer to `teach her husband a lesson.' In pure screwball fashion, he knocks out the wrong man, instead putting her friend David Niven into a cold sleep. He awakes as Cooper is arriving. In order to cover up the situation, Colbert herself, in a moment of strong sexiness, puts her fist up to Niven, asks: `Where did that man hit you? Here? Right here? Right here?' and then BAM! knocks him out again! The film was wonderful, from beginning to end it was a perfect delight. I loved Design for Living, too, though I dare say I think for sheer laughs and entertainment Bluebeard's Eighth Wife was the better and more enjoyable film. There is some charm of seeing a vintage film on the large screen. And in the presence of others laughing, one feels more comfortable doing so himself. That is, perhaps, why I felt the way I did about Bluebeard's Eighth Wife.

I have to agree with other reviews I've seen of this movie - despite some funny scenes and good lines, as a whole it just doesn't get off the ground, and Gary Cooper is wrong in the role of the much-married millionaire. Having said that, I love the scene where Claudette Colbert's character, talking about her financial difficulties, says: "Have you ever had a waiter look at you with untipped eyes? And when I ask the elevator boy for the fourth floor, he says 'Yes, Madame' and takes a detour through the basement." A small detail: in one scene Colbert is looking at a book called "Live Alone and Like It" which was an actual best-seller at the time.

Oh Lubitsch how we needed you. Others could elicit fiery performances from actors, captivate with riveting story or lavish us with sets and camera magic. These usually require to be propped up with some effort, but what Lubitsch does simply requires letting go of, in particular letting go of our need to prop up fiction a certain way.

Usually understood as a gift for wit, his famed 'Lubitsch touch' is actually a mastery of something else, spontaneous illogicality. I have written about him in a few other posts so will not bore you here. It's the continuous shift of context, the dismantling of our expectation that story plays out a certain way.

The story could be anything, here a man and woman court each other while vacationing in the French Riviera. He's the blustering American type who won't take no and won't tiptoe around European niceties. She's elegant and smart but will not stoop to be wowed by money like her shyster father.

In the usual mode, they would brush and bounce off each other whilst trying to top each other for control over the story. This as hardwon love that surprises. That's fine, plenty of enjoyable films were being made in this time, what we now know as screwball. For me it's all a matter of how we brush, how much narrative space the players create by pushing and pulling, in which self can take shape, actual visible shape, as the story we watch. Capra has a very agile touch in It Happened One Night. I happen to find His Girl Friday coarse, par the course for Hawks.

In Lubitsch's world, we shift and shift again in a jazz merry-go-round of elusive self. Here's some of it. They meet as strangers in a store, cooperating over trying to buy pyjamas. He decides he's smitten, but uses money to come close to her. So what happens? She agrees to be bought as a wife but gives him a thankless marriage for it, although in love herself.

This is lovely work, clean, vibrant. Some if are just gags, like having married seven times before her. But quite a bit of it is that wondrous surprise where emotions express themselves in paradoxical ways.

An Ernst Lubitsch comedy, co-scripted by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett, which has always been generally dismissed by critics and fans alike. Perhaps with the film's reputation as a lesser effort those who sit down to view it will be pleasantly surprised to find it an agreeable affair, anyway.

Gary Cooper plays a seven times married American businessman millionaire who finds that with wife no. 8 (Claudette Colbert) he may have met his match. She has made him agree to a pre nuptial agreement of paying her $100,000 should there be a divorce and then makes him spend much of the marriage unhappy and wishing he hadn't signed that agreement.

While the film is never as funny or clever as the best of Lubitsch, it still has its moments. The film is remembered primarily for the scene in which Colbert and Cooper "meet cute" as they agree to split a pair of pajamas in a department store.

But there are other moments, too, such as the scene in which Cooper, inspired by having just read Taming of the Shrew, bursts out of his room, walks with great macho determination and accompanying soundtrack drum roll down a hallway, enters a room where Colbert stands and slaps her across the face. She responds by slapping him back and Cooper, perplexed by this unexpected turn of events, leaves the room, walks back through that same hallway to his room again and picks up the book to try to figure out what he did wrong.

Like all Lubitsch productions this film has a graceful air of sophistication, with a physical elegance in its sets and photography. Colbert is an old hand at frothy material like this while Cooper, cast against type, plays his role with obvious enthusiasm. He's a far cry from the Cooper we're used to seeing on screen in the scene in which he plays a piano while singing "Looky, looky, looky, Here comes Cookie" to Claudette. The supporting cast is first rate, all of them deft performers: a young David Niven, and old pro character actors Edward Everett Horton and Herman Bing.

English mangling, beer barrel shaped Herman Bing is the unlikeliest of detectives, hired by Cooper to follow his wife to see if she has any lovers. "Don't forget," he tells the millionaire, "we are a first class firm. You will find that out when you get our bill." Recommended as middling production code era Paramount fare.

Years before pre-nuptial agreements became a regular thing, Ernest Lubitsch made a screen comedy on which they are the basis. Bluebeard's Eighth Wife involves Gary Cooper as a multi-millionaire living on the French Riviera who's been married seven times and now marries Claudette Colbert for number eight. But Cooper's a good sport about it, he always settles with his ex-wives for a $50,000.00 a year as per an agreement they sign before marrying him. Sounds like what we now call a pre-nuptial agreement.

Of course Claudette wants a lot more than that and she feels Cooper takes an entirely too business like approach to marriage. She'd like the real deal and is willing to go some considerable lengths to get it.

Bluebeard's Eighth Wife has some really funny moments, the original meeting of Cooper and Colbert in a men's store where Cooper is insisting he wants only pajama tops and Colbert looking for only bottoms. And of course my favorite is Colbert trailing and blackmailing the detective Cooper sends to spy on her. Herman Bing has the best supporting role in the film as that selfsame, flustered detective.

I've often wondered how back in the day Hollywood could get away with casting so many people who are non-French in a film like this. Of course Cooper is an American and Colbert of the cast is the only one actually of French background. Though David Niven is charming as always, having him be a Frenchman is ludicrous, he is sooooooo British.

Nevertheless Bluebeard's Eighth Wife is an enjoyable film and a great example of what was called 'the Lubitsch touch' back in the day.