Ernst Lubitsch (1892–1947) was a German film director who achieved his greatest successes in Hollywood. His films are characterized by sophisticated humor with sexual undertones and an elegant style so distinctive that the term "Lubitsch touch" was coined to describe it. Among his best-known works are Trouble in Paradise (1932), Design for Living (1933), Ninotchka (1939), The Shop Around the Corner (1940), To Be or Not to Be (1942), and Heaven Can Wait (1943).
Before Lubitsch moved to Hollywood in 1922, he directed more than 30 films in Germany, many of which he also acted in. Unfortunately, his German films are virtually unknown today, which is a shame. As a director, Lubitsch alternated between comedies and grand historical dramas. While the latter likely contributed most to his international success and eventual invitation to Hollywood, it is his sharp and witty comedies that remain the most enjoyable today. Here are a few examples:
Shoe Palace Pinkus (1916), his first film, is about a Jewish boy (played by Lubitsch) who begins working in a shoe store and, through his business acumen, rises to become a shoe tycoon.
A Merry Prison (1917) is a light comedy based on Strauss's operetta Die Fledermaus, following the antics of a wealthy couple and their maid in a lively, party-filled Berlin.
In Meyer from Berlin (1918), Lubitsch plays a sharp young Berliner of Jewish descent who goes on vacation alone (leaving his young wife behind) in search of adventure, though things don’t go as planned.
Kohlhiesel's Daughters (1920) adapts the premise of The Taming of the Shrew to 19th-century Bavaria, set against a backdrop of a beautiful snowy landscape.
However, Lubitsch’s best film from this period is The Oyster Princess (1919), a grotesque comedy about the marriage of the spoiled daughter of an American millionaire.
In the late 1910s, after Germany’s defeat in World War I and the establishment of a new democratic republic, the country entered a period of intense social, cultural, and intellectual renewal. With the lifting of the moral censorship imposed under the Kaiser, Berlin became a hotbed of artistic innovation, with cabaret and entertainment thriving as significant economic engines.
It was in this cultural climate, on June 26, 1919, that Ernst Lubitsch released one of the most intriguing films of his silent era, The Oyster Princess. The film was a vehicle for actress Ossi Oswalda (1898–1947), with whom Lubitsch had previously worked in I Don’t Want to Be a Man and The Doll, both also from 1919. Ossi's persona teetered precariously between mischievous ingénue and dissolute nymph—arguably a new "type" for German cinema.
In I Don’t Want to Be a Man, Ossi plays a whiskey-swilling, tobacco-chewing young woman whose world is upended when, frustrated with her cloistered life, she sneaks out dressed as a young man, only to discover that being a man has its own disadvantages. She learns that the treatment she receives as a man is far less gentle than what she’s used to as a woman.
The Doll (1919) is full of fairy-tale-like unreality, with an emphasis on this artificiality for heightened effect. Lubitsch used cardboard sets, reminiscent of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but here they are bright and colorful, enhancing the film’s playful tone. It’s a delightful and even kinky burlesque, infused with Lubitsch's famous light, witty, and graceful touch. The frothy story follows a young prince who, desperate to avoid marriage, agrees to marry a lifelike mechanical doll (somewhat like a precursor to a modern blow-up sex doll). Of course, things don’t go as planned—the doll turns out to be much more "real" than he expected.
While The Oyster Princess may not have the most radical premise of Ossi Oswalda’s career, it was her raciest role to date. She plays the spoiled, unmarried daughter of an oyster magnate who decides that if the shoeshine boy's daughter can marry a prince, then so can she. The film opens in the vast Berlin palace of Mr. Quaker, the American "Oyster King," puffing on an oversized cigar—a fitting symbol of his fat-cat status. But then the camera pans back to reveal that the cigar is being held by an impeccably dressed Black servant. Another servant holds a cup of tea to Quaker's mouth, while yet another stands ready to wipe any drips from his lips. A fourth servant is on hand to comb Quaker's hair when it becomes tangled, as he sits idly by.
This is the grotesquerie of The Oyster Princess: the exaggeration of its characters to highlight their flaws. In Quaker's palatial mansion, the bright Art Deco design emphasizes the empty spaces between its occupants. The opulent décor is used to full effect as an endless stream of servants pass each other four abreast on the staircase.
Quaker discovers that, in a fit of frustration, his spoiled daughter (Ossi Oswalda) has demolished her room out of sexual agitation, crying for a prince to marry. (In preparation for future motherly duties, she takes a doll out of the bathtub and holds it upside down to dry.) Papa promises to find her a suitable royal. He sends a request to matchmaker Seligson (Max Kronert) to locate an appropriate husband for his brash daughter. The matchmaker’s suitor index—pinned to a wall in a way that seems a precursor to Tinder—finally reveals a match in Prince Nucki (Harry Liedtke), an indebted, down-on-his-luck nobleman who conceals his wealth from his poorer friends and his poverty from his wealthier acquaintances. Seeing an opportunity to restore his fortune, Nucki sends his bald, dim-witted friend Josef (Julius Falkenstein) to assess the bride-to-be, setting the stage for the ensuing misunderstanding. Vulgar luxury, false nobility, and the marriage-swapping trick are all grist for Lubitsch's satirical mill.
When Josef arrives at the Quakers' residence, he mistakenly presents Prince Nucki’s calling card as his own. Ossi is unimpressed with the visitor, but eager to be married, and believing Josef to be the prince, she rushes them to a priest. There, Ossi is immediately wed to Josef under Prince Nucki’s name. A hurried but well-attended wedding reception follows. Though neither Mr. Quaker nor Ossi are fond of her new husband, Josef thoroughly enjoys the raucous celebration, which includes a wildly filmed “Foxtrot epidemic” that causes the entire household, including the staff, to break into dance. Josef eats and drinks as if he’s never eaten or drunk in his life before!
Meanwhile, after a night of carousing with friends, the real Prince Nucki stumbles into a carriage that takes him to a meeting of the Multi-Millionaires’ Daughters Association Against Dipsomania, of which Ossi is a member. There, they meet and are instantly smitten. Not yet knowing each other’s true identities, both are distraught—she, believing herself recently married, and he, believing himself betrothed. Josef soon finds them together and, laughing, asks, “Do you know that you two are married to each other?” The happy couple celebrates with a second, much smaller reception. In the end, Ossi, Prince Nucki, and Mr. Quaker are all pleased with the match.
Finally, when the newlyweds retire to their bedroom, Papa is
caught peeping through the keyhole to see if any “fruitful actions”
are taking place. The couple is framed in a keyhole iris, with the
winking patriarch finally impressed.
Lubitsch skillfully plays on the interdependence between the Nouveau Riche and the impoverished aristocracy of the Old World, mocking both with impeccable wit. The nouveau riche are depicted as crude, spoiled, and lazy, while the aristocracy are portrayed as drunk, immature, and equally indolent. The aristocrats may wear elegant clothes, but they steal money from friends and live off smoked herring—yet their status is something the absurdly wealthy Americans covet.
Like Berlin in 1919, The Oyster Princess portrays a capital city torn from the old world order and reshaped by a new generation, including settler foreigners, whose drunken stupor spills into the streets. Money buys decadence; decadence reflects money. While the non-specific European city of The Oyster Princess lies far from Berlin itself, it inhabits the enchanted globe known as Lubitschland, capturing the vanity, lust, and simmering social climate of its time. These are the qualities Lubitsch would, just a few years later, take abroad, to convert the Hollywood industry to his own mode of expression.
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My goal is to discover interesting movies that are not already on all the "greatest movie" lists.
All films discussed in this blog are public domain and can be watched via YouTube or Archive.org