Soldato di cioccolata

Nelson Eddy and Rise Stevens star in an amusing film about a jealous husband, and his suspicions of his wife's infidelity. Nelson plays a dual role as the insecure husband and the Russian singer he impersonates to test his wife's loyalty. Rise is delicious as the teasing wife who exploits his doubts unmercifully. Nelson plays the Russian in a broad and sardonic manner which seems to prove again that he is more at ease and sure of himself in films without his usual costar and RL love interest. Nelson and Rise are in excellent voice. A couple of dances without the two leads could easily be cut. Neither approaches the humor of Nelson, nervously biting his nails, as he contemplates his insecurities.

I heard so much about The Chocolate Soldier from watching clips of both Nelson Eddy and Rise Stevens on YouTube and people telling me how good it was, and desperately I wanted to see it. I finally saw it, and you know what, I wasn't disappointed.

I will agree that the story about a man suspecting his wife of infidelity is predictable and creaks with age, and the choreography at times was disappointingly unexciting and pedestrian. But putting these flaws aside, this is a truly beautiful and entertaining film. One thing for certain, the production values were simply fabulous. The lavish costumes and beautiful sets were really a wonder to look at. The score is phenomenal, featuring some Oscar Strauss hits like My Hero, Thank the Lord the War is Over, Sympathy and of course the Chocolate Soldier, and some well known opera gems like Mon Couer s'oeuvre a Ta voix from Saint Saens's Samson and Delilah and Evening Star from Wagner's Tannhauser. While my Lady Sleeps was stunning too, but the real highlight was the enormously entertaining Song of the Flea. The performances were sublime; while the beautiful Rise Stevens is probably at her loveliest and sings beautifully, it is the wonderful undervalued Nelson Eddy who steals the show with his beautiful resonant voice and flawless comic timing and stage presence. Nigel Bruce and Florence Bates are good too.

All in all, a beautiful film. Not perfect, but the production values, score and performances make it a treat. 8/10 Bethany Cox

After their seventh teaming in Bittersweet did not fare as well in the box office the previous year, MGM decided to split Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald for their next films. Nelson was given his choice of leading lady and he picked Rise Stevens of the Metropolitan Opera.

If nothing else, Louis B. Mayer prided himself on bringing class to the cinema and he never met a diva he didn't want to sign for MGM. Eddy, who didn't really get along with Mayer and was soon to leave MGM after a spat with him, I think knew just how much it would cost to sign someone from the outside and he made Mayer spend the dough.

Rise Stevens had appeared with him on radio so Nelson's motives weren't completely to hurt Mayer financially. They worked well together here and maybe they could have been a screen team themselves. Rise Stevens had a good gift for comedy, very much like that other singer/actress Irene Dunne. But after The Chocolate Soldier and an appearance in Going My Way with Bing Crosby, she left the silver screen.

Like the Eddy/MacDonald feature Sweethearts this utilizes the music, but not the plot. Like Sweethearts the leads are appearing on stage in The Chocolate Soldier, but it's a backstage story for the plot. And the plot used is The Guardsman which MGM owned the rights to, having filmed it in 1931 with Alfred Lunt and Lynne Fontanne.

Eddy and Stevens look so good and sing so beautifully on stage, but that doesn't account for Eddy's all consuming jealousy over his wife. His Othello act doesn't even need an Iago for a boost, he's creating all kinds of imaginary lovers for Stevens. Finally he decides to put her to the test, playing a phony Russian opera singer with beard and Cossack costume. Stevens however is up to the challenge and it's a pretty funny film that follows.

The two leads have some nice duets together, particularly the My Hero duet from Oscar Straus's Chocolate Soldier. But the big hits of this film are Moussorgsky's Song of the Flea and another song While My Lady Sleeps written by Bronislau Kaper and Gus Kahn. Both were standard items in Nelson Eddy concerts. Eddy recorded both, however the version I have of the Song of the Flea is in English and in The Chocolate Soldier, Nelson sings it in the original Russian.

It was a good teaming Eddy and Stevens and since right after this Jeanette and Nelson would be doing their last film together, I Married an Angel, it's unfortunate Stevens and Eddy did not do a few more films together themselves.

A mix of the operetta The Chocolate Soldier and the play The Guardsman, this is one for those of us with incurably romantic hearts ... Eddy is as reliable as ever (The Song of the Flea and Sympathy especially good) and Rise Stevens in her debut film is pretty, witty and charming, as well as being in fabulous voice. One for rainy winter afternoons.

Proof positive that NELSON EDDY finally was able to shed his "wooden" image is THE CHOCOLATE SOLDIER. Whatever inspired him to do this performance (some say it was his frequent radio work that developed his acting talent), his impersonation of a Russian Cossack is both hilarious and convincing. He has a great time squeezing every bit of humor out of his sardonic dialogue and is never for a moment upstaged by the talented Rise Stevens. In fact, although she is carefully photographed and seems to be brimming with good humor, her performance is considerably weaker than Eddy's. One can only speculate how much better the film would have been if Eddy's usual co-star (with her great sense of comic timing) had been available.

Both singers are in fine voice but it's Eddy who steals the show with his rendition of "Song of the Flea". Nelson Eddy was rarely praised for his acting prowess, but here he delivers a solid, sensational performance with great flair and dexterity. Absolutely his best work as an actor!

The pleasant supporting cast includes Nigel Bruce and Florence Bates.