Director: Ernst Lubitsch
Writers: Samson Raphaelson, Grover Jones, Aladar Laszlo, Ernst Lubitsch
Photography: Victor Milner
Music: W. Franke Harling
Editor: unknown?
Cast: Herbert Marshall, Miriam Hopkins, Kay Francis, Edward Everett Horton, Charles Ruggles, C. Aubrey Smith, Leonid Kinskey
What a difference the Hays Code makes. Until those rules for Hollywood movie decorum came along in 1934, addressing problems that may or may not have existed, the idea in some outraged circles was apparently that anything goes on Hollywood movie sets. Come to find out, it’s “anything goes” for its time, most of it more like knowing and witty, not necessarily coarse. It’s not like there is nudity in Trouble in Paradise or anything like that, just lifelong criminals getting away with it and laughing about it, plus various jolts of sophisticated European adultery (most of it with perfectly conventional values). It’s the Lubitsch touch, more or less, the lightly cynical, lightly romantic take on human affairs of director and cowriter Ernst Lubitsch.
He remains a titan of his time, though sometimes it seems he is more like forgotten now. Billy Wilder reputedly had a sign in his office which read, “How would Lubitsch do it?” Even before Alfred Hitchcock, Lubitsch was one of the earliest examples of a Hollywood director famous for a uniquely recognizable style. “Lubitsch was always the least Germanic of German directors,” the critic Andrew Sarris wrote of him, “as Lang was the most Germanic.” There’s little question Trouble in Paradise could not have been made even three years later.
What a difference the Hays Code makes. Until those rules for Hollywood movie decorum came along in 1934, addressing problems that may or may not have existed, the idea in some outraged circles was apparently that anything goes on Hollywood movie sets. Come to find out, it’s “anything goes” for its time, most of it more like knowing and witty, not necessarily coarse. It’s not like there is nudity in Trouble in Paradise or anything like that, just lifelong criminals getting away with it and laughing about it, plus various jolts of sophisticated European adultery (most of it with perfectly conventional values). It’s the Lubitsch touch, more or less, the lightly cynical, lightly romantic take on human affairs of director and cowriter Ernst Lubitsch.
He remains a titan of his time, though sometimes it seems he is more like forgotten now. Billy Wilder reputedly had a sign in his office which read, “How would Lubitsch do it?” Even before Alfred Hitchcock, Lubitsch was one of the earliest examples of a Hollywood director famous for a uniquely recognizable style. “Lubitsch was always the least Germanic of German directors,” the critic Andrew Sarris wrote of him, “as Lang was the most Germanic.” There’s little question Trouble in Paradise could not have been made even three years later.
Trouble in Paradise has some of the flaws of any early talkie picture, but even with the limited technology Lubitsch finds numerous ways to propel his narrative and keep it interesting. He’s working almost entirely with interiors as it is, but he finds fresh ways to charge the visuals. He uses wipes as a rhythmic device, suggests the tedium of a symphony with a fan blowing the pages of the score, and uses the operatic singing of a gondolier garbageman to punctuate many scenes. It’s set in Venice, see.
Gaston Montescu (Herbert Marshall) is a celebrated international thief who takes up with Lily (Miriam Hopkins), a skilled pickpocket. They hit it off right away when they realize they have been pickpocketing from one another. It’s a continuing theme—stealing from one another is how they show affection.
Things amble along until they realize they can target Mme. Mariette Colet (Kay Francis), a widow who has inherited a successful Parisian perfume company. Gaston maneuvers himself into being her secretary and love interest. He works out a scheme that can net them nearly a million francs. At this point Lily is working for him as his assistant and things are going swimmingly with Mme. Colet.
As the plot thickens, Lubitsch keeps interjecting his entertaining little surprises. A live radio ad in studio, for example, hits the crass note like a tuning fork: “Remember, it doesn’t matter what you say. It doesn’t matter how you look. It’s how you smell.” It’s for perfume, but it’s the deodorant commercial in early primitive form.
I love the way gags are just distributed randomly all through this. In one scene Mme. Colet addresses one of the two mangy suitors pursuing her (Edward Everett Horton and Charles Ruggles, both excellent as always) with what turns out to be the tagline for the whole picture: “Marriage is a beautiful mistake, which two people make together.”
By the time Gaston has finagled his way further into controlling Mms. Colet’s finances, of course, they have fallen in love. This does not suit Lily, who thought she had a thing with Gaston not to mention a scheme for a much bigger score. It also does not suit any of the other financial advisers surrounding Mme. Colet, who have apparently been embezzling from her, notably M. Giron (C. Aubrey Smith).
Things build to a fine frothy finish from there. Trouble in Paradise has so many twists and turns in the last third it started to feel a little bit like the busy Casablanca. There are winners and losers in the romantic side of the narrative, as there must be, but as these things go it’s a pretty satisfying resolution taken all around. Herbert Marshall and Kay Francis are smooth like satin. It often felt like Miriam Hopkins is forcing it, but I suspect it’s Lubitsch’s direction for that character as much as anything. Be sure to include Trouble in Paradise on any Lubitsch retrospective you may be thinking of putting together.
Trouble in Paradise presently stands at #147 on the big list at They Should Pictures, Don’t They? It’s the second-highest Lubitsch after To Be or Not to Be at #100. Somewhat further back of them are The Shop Around the Corner (#259, my own favorite), Ninotchka (#504), and Design for Living (#953). They’re all great and five titles on that 1,000 is a good sign, but somehow I still feel Lubitsch’s reputation may be somewhat eclipsed. It wasn’t easy to get a look at Trouble in Paradise—the Criterion DVD was up to the usual standards, but it was also expensive. I’m not sure any streaming services carry his stuff on the regular, except Criterion. And though it is there now, it wasn’t a few weeks ago.
Gaston Montescu (Herbert Marshall) is a celebrated international thief who takes up with Lily (Miriam Hopkins), a skilled pickpocket. They hit it off right away when they realize they have been pickpocketing from one another. It’s a continuing theme—stealing from one another is how they show affection.
Things amble along until they realize they can target Mme. Mariette Colet (Kay Francis), a widow who has inherited a successful Parisian perfume company. Gaston maneuvers himself into being her secretary and love interest. He works out a scheme that can net them nearly a million francs. At this point Lily is working for him as his assistant and things are going swimmingly with Mme. Colet.
As the plot thickens, Lubitsch keeps interjecting his entertaining little surprises. A live radio ad in studio, for example, hits the crass note like a tuning fork: “Remember, it doesn’t matter what you say. It doesn’t matter how you look. It’s how you smell.” It’s for perfume, but it’s the deodorant commercial in early primitive form.
I love the way gags are just distributed randomly all through this. In one scene Mme. Colet addresses one of the two mangy suitors pursuing her (Edward Everett Horton and Charles Ruggles, both excellent as always) with what turns out to be the tagline for the whole picture: “Marriage is a beautiful mistake, which two people make together.”
By the time Gaston has finagled his way further into controlling Mms. Colet’s finances, of course, they have fallen in love. This does not suit Lily, who thought she had a thing with Gaston not to mention a scheme for a much bigger score. It also does not suit any of the other financial advisers surrounding Mme. Colet, who have apparently been embezzling from her, notably M. Giron (C. Aubrey Smith).
Things build to a fine frothy finish from there. Trouble in Paradise has so many twists and turns in the last third it started to feel a little bit like the busy Casablanca. There are winners and losers in the romantic side of the narrative, as there must be, but as these things go it’s a pretty satisfying resolution taken all around. Herbert Marshall and Kay Francis are smooth like satin. It often felt like Miriam Hopkins is forcing it, but I suspect it’s Lubitsch’s direction for that character as much as anything. Be sure to include Trouble in Paradise on any Lubitsch retrospective you may be thinking of putting together.
Trouble in Paradise presently stands at #147 on the big list at They Should Pictures, Don’t They? It’s the second-highest Lubitsch after To Be or Not to Be at #100. Somewhat further back of them are The Shop Around the Corner (#259, my own favorite), Ninotchka (#504), and Design for Living (#953). They’re all great and five titles on that 1,000 is a good sign, but somehow I still feel Lubitsch’s reputation may be somewhat eclipsed. It wasn’t easy to get a look at Trouble in Paradise—the Criterion DVD was up to the usual standards, but it was also expensive. I’m not sure any streaming services carry his stuff on the regular, except Criterion. And though it is there now, it wasn’t a few weeks ago.
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