NINOTCHKA
Reports indicate that the filming of Ninotchka was a routine, workmanlike affair, but I call bullshit. I'd bet the cast and crew popped out of bed each morning like toast from a Cuisinart, drove to work with radios up and hair down, hummed gaily in their dressing rooms, and then skipped onto the set with every line memorized and every inflection solidified, nailing scene after scene and exchanging jokes, hugs, and generous amounts of food between takes. How else to explain the tidal wave of unencumbered euphoria that rolls over you the moment the first scene fades in and doesn't let up till the credits roll? What other scenario would explain that rich, cherubic glow that coruscates onto every corner of every frame, that feels not like a lighting trick but a genuine external response to the indisputable beauty of undiluted joy? The movie has something rapturous running through its veins, something that, thank god, is highly communicable, something that even the most skeptical soul can't build up much of an immunity to. You don't just watch this marvelous meringue of a social satire, you catch it. I'm no expert, but I think that any encounter with Ninotchka, however brief, is a bit like falling in love.
It begins with what Hitchcock called a "MacGuffin"; a physical object that powers the plot. Here we have a set of stolen jewels belonging to the deposed Russian aristocracy. When three Soviet stooges (Sig Ruman, Felix Bressart, Alexander Granach), take said jewels to Paris to pawn them off, they don't expect to encounter a former Russian monarch, Grand Duchess Swana (Ina Claire) and her lover, Count Leon D'Algout (Melvyn Douglas), onto the scheme and ready to press charges. But none of them expect Ninotchka (Greta Garbo), an aggressively chaste, exceedingly curt espionage mastermind, sent by the Kremlin to salvage the jewel situation. You'd expect Leon and Ninotchka to fall in love, and 'deed they do. However, most romantic conversations don't go like this;
Leon: What kind of a girl are you, anyway?
Ninotchka: Just what you see. A tiny cog in the great wheel of evolution.
Leon: You're the most adorable cog I've ever seen.
Ninotchka: Just what you see. A tiny cog in the great wheel of evolution.
Leon: You're the most adorable cog I've ever seen.
Ninotchka: What have you ever done for mankind?
Leon: Nothing. Now for womankind, my record isn't quite so bleak.
They don't write 'em like this anymore. But then again, they don't have actors like this anymore, actors who had not just cut-and-dry talent but personas, sets of gloriously singular, idiosyncratic character traits that allowed writers and directors to tailor films specifically to the wildly unique skills of their stars. Indeed, the DNA of Ninotchka is inextricable from the genes of the Great Garbo, perhaps the most puzzling and compelling starlet in the hardly diminutive canon of Hollywood studio lore.
Plucked from a barber shop by a studio exec and flung headfirst into stardom, Garbo rose to fame in a series of MGM melodramas, almost always playing the wealthy woman with a beggar's heart. In the late 20's and early 30's, she became a national object of love and lust and racked up multiple Oscar noms, all while skipping out on premieres, ignoring fan mail, and declining interviews. She was the original Hollywood hermit, and her stolid reclusiveness, combined with her distinctly European features and angular, exacting performance style sent the American public on binges of frenzied speculation. Audiences packed movie houses when a new Garbo flick was out, not just to revel in her distinctive brand of star quality, but to make some sort of attempt at figuring her out, at peeling away the luminescent layers and understanding what was at the core of this woman who was so gorgeously remote, so magical in her misanthropy that she in some ways seemed like more of a heavenly creature than a mere mortal.
For theatergoers then and for movie buffs now, part of the picture's allure is how cannily it plays on the thoroughly anomalous power of Garbo's charisma. The picture first half-hour has her playing a sort of exaggerated version of what we construe to be her personality-severe, savvy, and unshakably somber. Indeed, she's so plainly brutish, so staggeringly forthright, so deliberately frigid that you wonder if this is the apotheosis of her trademark acting style or if she's just poking fun at herself. Then, something shocking happens. In the midst of a lunch-table dialogue between Leon and Ninotchka, the camera cuts away from her, and when it cuts back...she's laughing.
Armed with an abundance of charm, self-deprecating wit, and good looks, Douglas has finally triumphed over that famous scowl, finally broken her open for all to see. She can laugh?!,we think to ourselves. Before long, we know she can smile, swoon, and sob as well. It's nothing less than genius how the picture puts Leon in OUR shoes; he wants to unravel the mystery of Greta Garbo. So do we, but sadly, we've never had what it takes. Leon does, and we're lucky enough to watch him at work. "Garbo laughs!", the posters for this movie proclaim. Yes, and the audience gasps, because, at last, we feel we know this actress, that we understand her in the way that we "get" Bogie or Judy Garland or Lucille Ball. This entertainment epiphany occurred not a moment to soon; perhaps realizing that this picture cemented her stardom once and for all by exhibiting her surprising sense of humour and vivacious versatility, Garbo retired soon after this one hit screens. She avoided the business for 50 years and died a recluse, albeit a seemingly happy one.
But let's strip away the legend for a minute. You could go into Ninotchka without a drop of historical context and still have a ball. This is romantic comedy at its finest. It provides us with two immensely interesting characters played by two great actors-Douglas, taking debonair to a new level, and Garbo, stretching herself like never before. It gives those two characters some of the most beautiful words ever crafted by a screenwriter (or rather, a team of screenwriters, headed by the incomparable Billy Wilder). It plops them down in a location perfectly in synch with the starry-eyed tone of it all; Paris, of course. You couldn't go wrong with this material, and Ernst Lubitsch went very very right indeed.
Then again, that's nothing new; Lubitsch was one of the greatest directors ever to work for a major studio. The combination of sly wit, soignee sensuality, quiet piquancy and unforced energy with which he imbued even the smallest detail became so iconic that fellow directors dubbed it "the Lubitsch touch". His style is clever, but it never forces us to admire its cleverness; it's a kind of brilliance that registers subconsciously so that our real mental faculties can get involved in the story at hand instead of the specifics of its telling.
He has a lucid way with visuals; scenes unfold with the unforced, intoxicating grace of good ballet. Some of his most effortless (and best) work is on display in Ninotchka, which contains a thirty-second moment that, for me at least, sums up both Lubitsch's appeal and his indisputable genius. As Leon and Ninotchka cheekily re-enact a Russian-style execution using a blindfold and a champagne bottle, watch where he places her in the shot, how he frames a brief kiss as part of the almost interminable buildup to the punchline, how he slopes the camera just a tad at a crucial moment. Like just about everything he ever directed, this scene is erotic, enchanting and endearingly goofy all at once. The Lubitsch touch is the Midas touch-his work is simply irresistible, especially here, in what is certainly one of his two or three best films.
Some have called Ninotchka the anti-Casablanca, arguing that, while that film argues in favor of national pride, this one makes a case against it. But the film's ideologies are not opposing views, just different takes on how to fix a broken world. Casablanca claims that, to unite a frayed nation, we must understand that sacrifices for our country are ultimately a display of love for its citizens. Ninotchka aims for the same destination, but suggests a different route; we must cherish individual relationships over national issues, for a nation full of happy people will become a better one. Both suggest that we act with people, not causes in mind. They suggest two different but equally valid ways of doing so. And yet, for all their intellect, these movies provide enjoyment and escape as well; they ride on the sturdy shoulders of their stars.Casablanca plays with our perception of Bogie as a Tough Guy, and Ninotchka invites us to solve the mystery of a beguiling woman who once stated; "I never said, 'I want to be alone.' I only said, 'I want to be left alone.' There is all the difference."
(Note: The hat Garbo wore in this film started a fashion craze, and became the most iconic cinema headpiece outside of Princess Leia's Danish-buns. If there's one film artifact I wish I had in my possession, it's this.)
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