Monte-Carlo

The 1930s were the era of the screen partnership. If a duo worked in one picture, the rule was to keep them together, turning out hits until the public got bored. But it wasn't always a rule producers were able to stick to. After the massive success The Love Parade, which united stars Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald, producer-director Ernst Lubitsch followed up with Monte Carlo, in which MacDonald had to swap the gallic lothario for English fop Jack Buchanan.

Really, it was not so much the sundering of Chevalier and MacDonald that was the problem. MacDonald was a good singer and a decent actress, but there was no unique chemistry between her and Chevalier. No, it is Lubitsch who has been calamitously separated from the French entertainer. In his new breed of operettas for the screen, earliest examples of how we now define the movie musical, Lubitsch's Ruritanian settings and sly humour needed the cheeky continental charm of someone like Chevalier. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with Buchanan – he was witty, graceful, and could be outstanding in the right role (especially The Band Wagon, two decades later) – but he simply doesn't convince as a philandering French count. There may have been some thinking that Buchanan was to stereotypical Englishness what Chevalier was to stereotypical Frenchness. This is quite true, only stereotypical Englishness isn't what's required!

But Lubitsch potters along, honing the formula of the new genre. This time around, the songs are written by Richard A. Whiting and W. Franke Harling. The melodies are neither as sweet nor as memorable as those written by Victor Schertzinger for The Love Parade, the only standout being the popular hit "Beyond the Blue Horizon". However, the lyrics by Leo Robin are great fun, with internal rhyming reminiscent of Lorenz Hart, and a fun and occasionally witty wordplay. What's more Lubitsch and his screenwriter Ernest Vajda have done a more elaborate job of weaving the songs into the story, and the action into the songs. A good example is "Give Me a Moment Please", which is staged as a phone call between MacDonald and Buchanan (funny how Scottish those two sound when their names appear side by side). The song not only relates to the characters and the narrative, but the plot is furthered through the song.

As for merging action and music, there are some nice touches here which we didn't see in The Love Parade. This is not a dance musical, and yet Lubitsch choreographs dances of ordinary gestures for many of the numbers. Sometimes this is rather blunt and abstract, such as the head turning of the crowd in "She'll love me and like it". Other times it is more subtle and natural, as in "Trimmin' the women". In that song, we see little moves like Buchanan, John Roche and Tyler Brooke all crossing their legs simultaneously, and in the second half of the song making a little dance out of an afternoon tea session. Their movements look natural but also have a musical rhythm to them. This is all important development for the genre.

Ultimately though, this is a box of few delights. I'm not blaming it all on Mr Buchanan – he is actually delightful here and there, but he is not able to carry the picture, and the lack of an appropriate lead man shows up the rather lacklustre storyline. The screen musical would continue to develop, and during the 30s it would belong chiefly to the reliable stars who could be associated with a certain formula – Fred Astaire, Bing Crosby, Shirley Temple, Chevalier, MacDonald… stars who were draws in themselves and needed no fine drama or creative direction to make a hit.

The first twenty minutes of Monte Carlo is so enjoyable and promising, you might think you're watching one of Ernst Lubitsch's best musical comedies. The film kicks off with a highly amusing sequence at the palace of a silly aristocrat, where a wedding ceremony goes disastrously awry. First, the well-wishers are doused by a sudden rainfall (as we see a banner proclaiming "Happy is the Bride the Sun Shines On"), and consequently the members of the processional are forced to switch from a stately march to a mad scramble into the church. Then the groom is informed that his intended bride has fled, and we soon learn that this is the third time she has done so. But the groom's father insists that the wedding gifts will not be returned, and sends his son out to calm the guests. The groom, Otto, is played by Claude Allister, a bizarre-looking character actor who specialized in playing silly ass Englishmen. Otto treats the crowd to a song assuring them that he'll retrieve his bride and that "She'll Love Me and Like It!" This number is hilarious, and whets our appetites for more.

Next we meet the runaway bride herself, Countess Helene (Jeanette MacDonald), who, with her maid (ZaSu Pitts) has hopped a train without even bothering to find out where it's going -- nor did she take the time, when fleeing, to dress in anything beyond her slip and a light jacket. Once in her compartment she promptly doffs the jacket. (Can you say "Pre-Code"?) After an amusing exchange with a train conductor played by former Sennett comedian Billy Bevan, Jeanette sets her course for Monte Carlo and then sits back in her compartment, gazes happily out the window, and sings the film's most famous song, "Beyond the Blue Horizon." This sequence is renowned among film historians as one of the best musical numbers of the early talkie era, one that transcended the stage-bound conventions holding back other filmmakers. Here Lubitsch artfully combines a montage of traveling shots, the rhythmic sounds of the train, the swelling strains of the orchestra and MacDonald's voice to create a genuinely exhilarating number.

Unfortunately, once our Countess reaches Monte Carlo it marks the point where the movie itself has peaked. From here on, it steadily loses momentum and never again regains the propulsive cheer of those opening moments. I'm not entirely sure why the famed Lubitsch Touch faltered in this case, but in my opinion the biggest single error was the casting of Jack Buchanan in the male lead. Buchanan was a popular stage star in London, but he didn't succeed as a star in Hollywood, and his performance in this film demonstrates why. To put it bluntly, the man is an oddball: spindly, toothy, nasal-voiced and entirely too pleased with himself to score a hit as an appealing leading man. I think Buchanan must have been one of those performers like George M. Cohan or Fanny Brice whose stage magnetism didn't translate into movie stardom, or at least, not in this sort of role. He's ideal as the pompous stage director in The Band Wagon (1953), but that's an older, mellower Jack Buchanan in a funny character turn. Here, he's pretty hard to take, and none of his songs are as memorable or as cleverly staged as Jeanette's "Beyond the Blue Horizon." (And strangely, although he was celebrated in England for his dancing, he has no dance numbers at all.) Instead, Buchanan is given the film's most campy, embarrassing song, a paean to barbering called "Trimmin' the Women," a number that looks like it escaped from the Celluloid Closet. Things get worse later on when the plot calls for Buchanan to turn macho, and he gruffly orders Jeanette around, which is like watching Franklin Pangborn portray a drill sergeant.

With no Maurice Chevalier to play opposite (and Nelson Eddy still waiting in the wings), Jeanette MacDonald is pretty much left to her own devices. She's charming, but can't carry the picture by herself. Still, even if she'd played opposite a different leading man, Monte Carlo's verbal humor falls short in the later scenes. Lubitsch boosts the comedy quotient with some characteristic visual gags, bits involving missing boudoir keys and a church clock with mechanical musicians, and these moments help, but too many punch-lines fail to land, and too many scenes conclude on anti-climactic notes. Even ZaSu Pitts has to strain for laughs. I feel the director showed more assurance in this film's predecessor, his first talkie The Love Parade, which was boosted by Chevalier's high energy performance and some terrific supporting comics.

Fans of early musicals will want to catch the first two numbers here, but once you've arrived beyond that blue horizon and reached Monte Carlo, you may want to bail. After the first twenty minutes or so this film will most likely be of interest primarily to Lubitsch buffs and Jeanette MacDonald fans.

In fact, Monte Carlo is a nice film that left me mostly in a good mood. It does have a few fairly major flaws, starting with Jack Buchanan who is a total charmless wimp of a leading man and his chemistry with Jeanette MacDonald doesn't really convince, Maurice Chevalier would have been a much better fit. The song Trimmin' the Women is forgettable at best and embarrassing at worst, a song that really should have been left on the editing room floor, a shame because there was some clever musical choreography in it. The story also even for a 1930s musical is rather contrived with a few situations stretched to the limits in credibility. And sadly, ZaSu Pitts is wasted and strains for laughs, she's often delightful but her comic talents are just not used very well at all. As ever with an Ernst Lubitsch film Monte Carlo is a lavish-looking film with opulent period detail and attractive cinematography and Lubitsch directs with his usual class and elegant style. The songs, with the exception of one, are lovely and staged in a witty(a couple alternatively intimate) and light as a feather way, the memorable scene being the tear-jerking Beyond the Blue Horizon staged on a moving train. Give Me a Moment Please is very amusing as well and the most story-enhancing of the songs. The dialogue is sweet and funny with some nice interplay between the actors, the supporting performances are solid enough but other than the songs Jeanette MacDonald is the best thing about Monte Carlo. She is effortlessly charming and feisty and her voice while not large is beautiful in tone and shaped with tasteful style and phrasing. All in all, Lubitsch is nowhere near his best here(Heaven Can Wait, the Merry Widow and particularly The Shop Around the Corner are much preferred) but while problematic Monte Carlo is not a bad film at all, lesser Lubitsch but Lubitsch when not on best form is better than most other directors in the same position. 7/10 Bethany Cox

Even minor Lubitsch rates a 7. His comedic sensibility was unique in its poetry and effortless sophistication.

One doesn't expect an iron-clad plot in musical comedy, but MONTE CARLO's fails to fulfill even the minimal requirements of the genre. It simply makes no sense and creates no tension, erotic or otherwise. A nobleman falls for a runaway countess, and for absolutely no reason he pretends to be a commoner for the duration of the film.

Lubitsch is normally so good at plot construction, it's surprising that this one is so flat. Zasu Pitts, who can be so delightful, makes no impression here. Even the dialogue discouragingly fails to sparkle.

The film's other problem is the leading man, Jack Buchanan, who simply doesn't come across well on-camera and has absolutely no chemistry with MacDonald. Compared to the robust, lusty Maurice Chevalier in other Lubitsch/MacDonald films, Buchanan here is fey and sexless. MacDonald does her best, though, and acquits herself well.

No Lubitsch film is without its pleasures. It's worth seeing, but it's no MERRY WIDOW.

Certainly when you look at this film as a 1930 musical, the way that songs are integrated into the plot is a marvel, and it has a fluidity that belies the year it was made. That said, this is rather a chore to sit through, compared to the likes of The Smiling Lieutenant and One Hour With You, and despite the appeal of MacDonald in her early, earthy days, before she became partner to the eunuch Nelson Eddy.

There are three main culprits: first, a plot which just doesn't compare to the comedy-dramas of sexual tension and yearning that Lubitsch's best films offer. The others are fantasies, but this is flat out unbelievable, with too many mistaken identities, arbitrary shifts in attitude by the leading lady, and a lack of tension (since all of MacDonald's romantic choices are stinking rich). It's just impossible to care about. The second is leading man Jack Buchanan. It's not just that you can imagine Maurice Chevalier getting something innocently naughty out of the lines which might actually be charming, but as lightweight as he is, Buchanan seems too smart to believe what a doof-slash-stalker he's playing. Imagine Fred Astaire being replaced in Top Hat by Herbert Marshall, or maybe Paul Muni. And finally... at best the songs are unmemorable ditties cleverly staged. One, however, "Trimmin' the Women," could make the short list of worst movie numbers of the golden age of Hollywood. In short, be glad that Paramount compelled MacDonald and Chevalier (who she apparently disliked) to get back together in time for Love Me Tonight.

NOTE: Since viewing the film I have learned that the reels are misnumbered on nearly all surviving prints-- a fact which explains the otherwise baffling scene in the movie where Buchanan, who has already met MacDonald (IF you've seen it out of order), goes to work for her and she has no idea who he is. I'm not saying the movie would be radically better if it was in the correct order, but it would undoubtedly make somewhat more sense.