Trouble in Paradise (1932)

Directed by Ernst Lubitsch
Starring Miriam Hopkins, Kay Francis and Herbert Marshall
Produced by Paramount Pictures

One of the many charms of watching certain films is their ability to make you root for the bad guy.  The multiplexes are littered with drug lords, mob bosses, morally dubious cops and sadistic hitmen that we want to see "get away with it."

Trouble in Paradise is one of those films.  We follow the exploits of Gaston Monescu, a notorious thief who meets his equal in Lily.  The beautiful con artist manages to momentarily relieve Monescu of his latest haul, arousing his curiosity.  The two become romantically involved and conspire to rob Madame Mariette Cole, a rich perfume company mogul.


Monescu ingratiates himself with Colet, becoming the socialite's secretary.  He manages her finances and affairs, all with an eye toward emptying her safe when the time is right.

Complicating the heist is Monescu's growing affection for Colet.  Lily begins to doubt her partner and insists on pushing up the schedule.  Colet's longtime money manager also begins to doubt Monescu's intentions.  And a former mark of Monescu's arrives in Paris and vaguely recognizes the thief.

The real achievement of Trouble in Paradise is the way it keeps the audience guessing.  Though we are always virtually with Monescu, we never really know what he is thinking.  Does he love Colet? Is it all part of a con? Just when you think you have it figured out another fly lands in the ointment.

Not knowing what Monescu wants does not keep us from rooting for him.  A lot of the credit goes to Herbert Marshall.  His Monescu is suave and debonair, a perfect gentleman devoted to a life of crime.  Monescu wields words as though they were a sword, slicing his way through every obstacle the script throws his way.

Kay Francis' Colet is a worthy object of desire for the thief.  She is beautiful and business savvy, navigating Parisian social circles with the grace of a dancer.  Her only foible is a naivete brought on by her way of life.  She cannot even fathom that she's invited a wolf into the hen house.

Miriam Hopkins's Lily is sadly the weak link in the trio.  Hopkins is not given much to work with and turns in a shrill performance that cannot help but make you root against her.

The story simply would not work without the right tone and Lubitsch manages the temperature here perfectly.  Trouble in Paradise has enough weight to give the plot real stakes, but it always keeps the action light and comedic.  The wrong approach would make the audience not care about Monescu or worse, hate him.  Happily, we are cheering on the criminal throughout.

Trouble in Paradise will not change the way you look at the world.  It's very simply a fun story well told by a master director.  To see this one is to watch a film of breezy perfection.

****1/2 out of *****

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Grand Hotel (1932)

Directed by Edmund Goulding
Starring Greta Garbo, John Barrymore and Joan Crawford
Produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

Ensemble films are notoriously difficult affairs. Multiple characters in overlapping storylines can leave audiences unsatisfied.  The director has to be a tightrope walker: balancing plot elements and making sure everyone gets their screen time only to find in the end that viewers liked that character but hated that story.

If it's a small miracle that these types of movies succeed, then Grand Hotel turns water into wine.  The film follows a destitute Baron (John Barrymore) who is both a jewel thief and in love with the famous dancer Grusinskaya (Greta Garbo).  The Baron befriends Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore), a lifetime employee of General Director Preysing's (Wallace Beery).  Kringelein is dying and looking to use his remaining money to live life to the fullest.  For his part, Preysing is teetering on the edge of financial ruin and hires the beautiful stenographer Flaemmchen (Joan Crawford) to help him with his affairs.  Preysing likes the woman, but Flaemmchen is smitten with the Baron.

Did you get all of that?

The connective tissue between the players and stories is the location: The Grand Hotel in Berlin.  The hotel is effectively another character in the film.  We can feel the pulse of the movie in its lobby.  Rooms seem to morph from places of romance to ones of foreboding.  And we can never leave the hotel.  When characters head out its front doors, we cannot follow.  The tone constantly shifts and director Edmund Goulding takes full advantage of his locale.

If there is a surprise here, it is just how subversive Grand Hotel is in its themes. For a big Hollywood spectacle packed with stars, the movie is dark almost to the point of being nihilistic.  Of our main characters, one leaves the hotel in a body bag, another in handcuffs, and a third for a train station to meet a lover we all know is not showing up, a fact the hotel itself seems to conspire to conceal.

One of the few hopeful notes seems to be struck by Kringelein, who leaves the hotel with Flaemmchen for Paris to find a doctor who can heal him. But Kringelein's hopes strike me as false.  They are no more than a way to placate Flaemmchen's desperation. The Paris trip is more a way to pass the time with a girl who is his only true remaining friend.  It's a way to give her purpose for a little while.

The only other true hopeful moment comes from a minor character, a porter. As the film ends, he receives a call from the hospital.  His wife is having a baby.  Perhaps we can look forward to the future.

Or perhaps not.  Dr. Otternschlag, a permanent resident of the Grand Hotel, seems to act as the voice of the place. And he closes the film repeating a line he said at the beginning:

"Grand Hotel. People come and go. Nothing ever happens."

Indeed. Robberies and murder. Love and hatred. Death and birth.  All are consequential to the players. But the hotel just goes on.  Whether you leave the hotel for a train station or the morgue, there is always another guest waiting to check in.

Grand Hotel is about as perfect as an ensemble film gets.  It balances all of its elements and has something to say.  It's a masterpiece of the pre-Code era.

***** out of *****

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