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.

This time it's the beautiful and witty early Jeanette MacDonald, before Nelson Eddy came along - in an unusual Lubitsch romantic comedy musical! A high society romp involving financially embarrassed Countess Helene (Jeanette MacDonald) bolting during a wedding to stuffy but rich Duke Otto (Claude Allister). Her idea is to escape to Monte Carlo and gamble herself back into the upper circles, without depending on men in her life. It doesn't work out, due to many twists of the wheel as well as the plot, involving Count Rudolph (Jack Buchanan) - and Duke Otto - now both after her. Lots of sophisticated laughs at the antics of the high-born, sort of verbal slapstick. And some great music too, even beyond the blue horizon!

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.

This was Jeanette Macdonald's 4th film in all and 2nd for director Ernst Lubitsch – both getting into their sound-stride and both with many classics still ahead of them, after all – their lives had only begun. Print quality on the DVD is marvellous for a 1930 film, making me wonder why it was never shown on UK TV in the days when they used to cater for people like me.

In the gambling dens of Monte Carlo Countess Jeanette pretends to be rich when she's poor and the guy who fancies her, Count Jack, pretends to be poor when he's rich so as to be her hairdresser. Later famous variations in Paramount films were with Chevalier as her (nothing but a) tailor unintentionally masquerading as a Baron in Love Me Tonight directed by Mamoulian and the fake Baron and Countess in the sublime Trouble In Paradise directed by Lubitsch. The story goes in a few unexpected directions but ultimately all's well that ends well – this was the Golden Age of course. Out of the seven songs only Beyond The Blue Horizon and Always In All Ways were truly memorable, but all were listenable to and pleasant. Zazu Pitts was as sadly underused as Jeanette's maid as was Barbara Leonard as Mitzi's in One Hour With You and Jack Buchanan managed to keep it a dark secret why he was such a big star; the film only lost a little momentum at the opera but overall everything worked well. The sets and costumes were relentlessly beautiful – in fact an extremely colourful black and white. Jeanette looked radiant with her gorgeous hair – Roll Over Madonna!

A lovely little film and a window on 1930 – it's not a classic but it was another building block for those to come from Paramount in the next few years.