Franz Lehar's 1905 operetta "Die Lustique Witwe" was eventually adapted into three different Hollywood productions. All were made by MGM, the American studio most noted for its lavish musicals.
Silent movie fans might consider the 1925 version to be the best. It was directed by the brilliant but overly ambitious Erich von Stroheim, who reworked the story into a condemnation of European royalty. One of the leads was a vicious sadist, another had an obsessive foot fetish. Despite its eccentricities, the film was a rare box office hit for Stroheim.
Ernst Lubitsch directed the 1934 version, which had several advantages over its silent predecessor. The arrival of the sound era allowed The Merry Widow to be a musical, as the original story had intended it to be. MGM also hired the talents of lyricist Lorenz Hart, half of the legendary songwriting team of Rodgers and Hart. The new compositions were sung by soprano Jeanette MacDonald and the charming Maurice Chevalier, who had made successful musicals together with Lubitsch dating back to 1929's The Love Parade. When combined with Franz Lehar's score, the soundtrack was among the best of the 1930s.
MGM spared no expense on the production. The film cost $1.6 million to make, with most of the budget sunk into the sets and costumes. Hundreds of extras were hired for a ballroom dancing scene. The chandeliers used a thousand gaslights, which took two hours for the crew to turn on. MacDonald alone required more than a dozen exquisite, custom-made gowns.
While the production values were first-rate, the film could not recover its costs. It lost money at the box office, which along with its black and white cinematography helps to explain its obscurity today.
But The Merry Widow has much to offer, besides its score, sets and costumes. The script is full of clever putdowns and retorts, with Chevalier and MacDonald well up to the task of delivering them. Many of the scenes have unexpected, pleasant comic twists. The unromantic King of Marshovia (George Barbier) catches Chevalier in the royal bedroom with the Queen (Una Merkel), and his first reaction is to ensure that the servants are unaware. Chevalier has a petty argument with a fellow playboy gentleman (Edward Everett Horton) that disintegrates when each realizes who the other man is.
Most of the humor involves Chevalier, whose rascal character has seemingly seduced every desirable woman in both Paris and impoverished Marshovia. Marshovia, a mythical nation located in Central Europe, faces financial ruin when its wealthiest citizen makes plans to leave the country. She is the widow Sonia (Jeanette MacDonald), who has tired of mourning and has decided that Gay Paris will lift her spirits. The King of Marshovia selects Chevalier to court Sonia, and return with her to their homeland. A happy ending is in store, despite the inevitable disagreements, misunderstandings, and mistaken identities that are endemic to the romantic comedy genre.
The story lags during the film's final third, which has Chevalier needlessly facing a court martial. Still, I prefer the Chevalier-MacDonald pairing over Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, the most famous romantic comedy team of the 1930s. While Rogers was a good comic actress, her voice is no match for MacDonald's soaring soprano. Astaire was a great dancer, but lacks Chevalier's droll and easy charm.
The Merry Widow was simultaneously filmed in both English and French. I have never seen the French version, which (unlike the Spanish language version of Universal's Dracula) used the same cast and crew.
MGM would remake The Merry Widow in 1952, using widescreen and technicolor. Una Merkel appeared in this version as well, but the film met a tepid reception from both critics and the public. (76/100)
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