Relevant to my Interests, Ep. 23

Here's a fun fact about Jeanette MacDonald: apparently, my grandfather had a thing for her, too! My father also admits that she is -- as the kids say these days -- hot, which means Jeanette has three consecutive generations of approval. If that isn't evidence of transcendental beauty, I don't know what is.

P.S. It also helps that she looks like this girl I had a major crush on in college.

The Merry Widow (1934)

I have heard (or should that be read?) much ado about director Ernst Lubitsch and the certain je ne sais quoi he brings to his productions, known in filmophiliac circles as the Lubitsch touch. 1934's The Merry Widow, it would seem, demonstrates that touch in ample supply. What is on the surface a rather silly musical romance becomes, thanks to Lubitsch's superb direction (to say nothing of the outstanding cast!), a highly enjoyable affair. In The Merry Widow, royal guardsman Count Danilo (played by the absurdly charming Maurice Chevalier) is tasked with seducing and marrying the widowed Madame Sonia (played by the lovely and talented Jeanette MacDonald), the seduction and marriage being a means of preventing Madame Sonia from leaving the minuscule kingdom of Marshovia with her considerable fortune (which constitutes half of all the wealth of Marshovia). I hope that I won't be spoiling anything when I say that Maurice and Jeanette do inevitably fall for one another and wind up together (although the ultimate circumstance of their romance is not quite what one might traditionally consider romantic, albeit in a good way).

What can I say about this picture that hasn't already been said? It veritably drips with the elegance and opulence one expects from an MGM picture of the 1930s. Perhaps the most shining example of this is the grandiose waltz scene--clearly, no expense was spared in preparing this rather impressive number. Of course, Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald are excellent in the starring roles (the fact that they turned in such great performances in spite of their personal enmity is surely testament to their professionalism and ability as actors!). Miss MacDonald is also quite stunning throughout the picture, gaudy period garb notwithstanding. Edward Everett Horton is also great in his relatively small but quite likable part the distraught Ambassador Popoff, cementing his status as one of my favorite supporting actors. Una Merkel also makes a brief appearance as Queen Dolores.

Also of interest is the fictional kingdom of Marshovia itself. At the outset of the picture, we see that Marshovia is nestled between Austria-Hungary and Romania, in the region most would recognize as Transylvania (though there are no vampires to be found, barring the possibility that Maurice Chevalier is harboring a deep, dark secret). Culturally, Marshovia seems to be an amalgam of Russia, Hungary and the Ottoman Empire, giving it the appearance of semi-pastoral utopia that is just "oriental" enough to seem exotic, and just occidental enough to seem familiar. In fact, it is rather a nice analogue--both culturally and geographically--to the fictional kingdom of Graustark.

But I digress. I must say that I rather enjoyed The Merry Widow, and I expect that most other aficionados of classic movies will enjoy it just as much. Now I'm going to have to see the 1925 version of the film, as well (there was also a third version made by MGM, but that was in the 1950s, and, as a wise man once said, fuck that shit).

Relevant to my Interests, Ep. 16

"I can has cheezburger, mommy?"
"Not yet, my little one, but soon. Yes, soon..."

Not content to merely possess the looks of an angel, Jeanette MacDonald also had to have the voice of an angel, as well. Jeanette MacDonald is today remembered best for the several films she made with Nelson Eddy (one hell of a singer in his own right!), although she also appeared opposite Maurice Chevalier in her earlier pictures. And if it may be hyperbole to say Jeanette had the voice of an angel, it isn't hyperbole by much--this woman could sing like nobody's business. Even through the somewhat primitive, monaural sound recording technology of the day, Jeanette's voice rings through as clearly as a church bell through the autumnal fog. Nelson Eddy was frequently Jeanette's beau on the screen, but he carried a torch for her just as much off the screen. Personally, I can't blame him.

The above photo dates from the early days of Jeanette MacDonald's career, as the Paramount logo suggests. The identity of the cat remains unknown.

[Image Sauce]