THE FLAME OF NEW ORLEANS: Blu-ray (Universal, 1941) Kino Lorber
This is the story of a wedding dress, or rather – a
costly blunder and dog of a movie that miserably tanked and put a distinct
period to producer, Joe Pasternak’s association with Universal Studios; Uni’s
loss – MGM’s gain. Director, René Clair’s The Flame of New Orleans (1941)
ought to have continued the upward trajectory of its star, Marlene Dietrich,
whose career had been bolstered by 1939’s Destry Rides Again. Instead, Clair’s colossal belly-flop at the
box office ensured Dietrich’s reputation in the industry teetered on the brink
of bankability. Given the success of Destry, Uni’s executive
brain trust was willing to gamble on a 2-picture deal with Dietrich, to have
included Seven Sinners and The Countess of New Orleans –
each, lavishly appointed and calculated to take full advantage of Dietrich’s
inimitable European sophistication. To this end, the studio assigned France’s René
Clair to direct – this, his first American movie. Dietrich was not at all
pleased with this selection. However, not wanting to be difficult, she
acquiesced. Just prior to The Flame of New Orleans, Clair had concluded a
rocky partnership with Alexander Korda, collaborating with American dramatist,
Robert E. Sherwood – who would become a life-long friend – on The Ghost Goes
West (1935), a lithe fantasy. Clair would have preferred to continue on
with Korda. Instead, Korda became hostile over a subsequent project pitched by
Clair, for which he was particularly passionate, and the two parted company. Clair
then made Break the News (1938), a musical-comedy, costarring Jack
Buchanan and Maurice Chevalier.
Clair might never have come to America, except that in
May 1940, he was asked by Jean Giraudoux, then Minister of Information, to consider
establishing a French production center in the United States for the duration
of WWII. Alas, by the time Clair and collaborator, Julien Duvivier arrived in
New York, these plans were scrapped and Clair, anxious for work, went to
Hollywood to seek his fame and fortune. To Clair’s great surprise his reputation
had preceded him, and, seemingly without much effort, Universal immediately
hired him to begin work on The Flame of New Orleans. Alas, Universal’s
assembly-line schedule clashed with Clair’s meticulous investment on the
screenplay, a challenge since his English lagged and screenwriter, Norman Krasna
spoke not a stitch of French. Chronic delays pushed back shooting by one month
while the studio marked its upcoming projects in the trades, suggesting The
Flame of New Orleans would co-star Andy Devine, Roland Young and Broderick Crawford.
In the end, Crawford’s announcement did not carry over to the finished movie.
Meanwhile, Warner Bros.’s George Raft was eager to be considered for Dietrich’s
love interest. Alas, Jack Warner had other plans, and, despite Raft’s
protestations, nothing came of his involvement on the picture. Eventually, Uni
contract player, Bruce Cabot was given the coveted role of the swarthy sea
captain, prompting gossip maven, Hedda Hopper to suggest he was not capable of
carrying the load as a leading man opposite Dietrich. There was, in fact,
something to Hopper’s tepid concerns.
By all accounts, Bruce Cabot trusted too much in his
own public relations and what he then considered his ‘dashing good looks’ – so much,
he absolutely refused to take direction. Dietrich later referred to Cabot as “an
awfully stupid actor” barely able to remember his lines and cues. By her
own account, Dietrich shelled out for Cabot’s acting lessons. She also
suggested that animosity between the crew and Rene Clair remained at a fevered
pitch throughout the shoot. Meanwhile, the screenplay raised more than a few
eyebrows with Hollywood’s self-governing censorship - the Hays Office, overly
concerned Clair’s intercontinental flair would translate into a bawdy spectacle
about a woman of ill-repute. Accommodating the censors, Clair offered to shoot several
scenes that – on paper – had already ruffled the censors, so Pasternak would at
least have an alternate version that could be easily inserted into the finished
film, should the censors object to his first cut. Krasna did not appreciate
this, but diligently remained on set to rework the script until the censors
were satisfied.
However, Krasna was frankly appalled by the movie as
it developed, or rather, devolved into a stilted exercise in uber-European doomed
mores and mannerisms, disapproving of Dietrich – whose forte was decidedly ‘not’
comedy, while suggesting Cabot and co-star, Roland Young had been sorely miscast.
Again, there is something to this. The sight of Dietrich, Cabot and Young together
in a single scene is akin to observing a wax works from Madame Tussaud’s only marginally
come to life in rank pantomime. Throughout The Flame of New Orleans,
there is a sort of ‘petrified’ quality to all of their performances;
Dietrich, ever the clotheshorse, looking immaculate in René Hubert’s spectacular
array of crinolines and lace, yet quite unable to emote from beyond them. Cabot
does little more in any scene than pose in a sort of butt-clenching flex,
presumably, to exude a sort of masculine virility a la the likes of a Clark
Gable or Errol Flynn. Finally, Young, running true to form as the middle-aged
fop, tries his level best at the sly, moustache-twirling craftiness of an
aristocrat, meant to permeate his otherwise frustratingly wooden performance.
The legend of Claire of New Orleans – a.k.a. Countess
Claire Ledoux – a.k.a. Lili, a.k.a. Marlene Dietrich, is lent credence after
two fishermen discover a wedding dress floating down the Mississippi River. The
story infers Ledux disappeared on the day of her wedding in 1840. Or did she
commit suicide or meet with an untimely end? Well, we are about to find out, as
the townsfolk of New Orleans gather around in hushed reverence. We regress in
flashback to a moment more distance, when Claire first arrived in the city with
rising ambitions to become the wife of a very wealthy and respected banker,
Charles Giraud (Roland Young). Feigning a fainting spell at the opera, Claire
and Charles ‘meet cute’; he, chivalrously offering smelling salts and his
tender arm to lean on. Afterward, Claire plays ‘hard to get’ luring Charles to
seek her out via her maid, Clementine (Theresa Harris). Claire and Clementine
agree to a rendezvous in the park. Meanwhile, Charles conspires with a hired
man to stage a confrontation, meant to cement his chivalrous intervention on
her behalf. Alas, this relatively simple
plan gets cockeyed when Claire’s carriage nearly runs over the pet monkey of
riverboat, captain, Robert Latour (Bruce Cabot). Enraged, Latour repeatedly
orders Claire to apologize before overturning the carriage with its occupants
still inside.
Having foiled his plans, Charles now swears revenge for
Robert’s insolent behavior. At the Mardi Gras festival, Claire identifies Latour
to Charles. Rather ineffectually, Charles challenges the more physical robust
Latour to a duel. However, when Robert chooses knives as his weapon, Charles
recoils and does his level best to create various opportunities to allow him to
forgive Robert for his earlier indiscretion. As Robert would undeniably have
the distinct advantage over Charles, Claire graciously intrudes on their male
chest-thumping antics, suggesting she has mistaken Robert for someone else.
Thus, Charles has no qualm with him either. To illustrate his gratitude, Robert
invites Claire to dine with him aboard his boat the next evening, borrowing
$150 to pay for the feast; a decision that disgusts his first mate, Andrew (Andy
Devine) and remaining crew members (Frank Jenks, Eddie Quillan). No woman is
worth such ostentatiousness. And perhaps, neither is this one, as the following
night, Claire sends Clementine to the docks lie to Robert she is ill with the
flu. In the meantime, Claire is entertaining Charles’ family at home; Auntie
(Laura Hope Crews), his brother-in-law (Melville Cooper), sister (Anne Revere),
and cousin, Amelia (Emily Fitzroy). Despite her loveliness and grace, the
family remains unimpressed.
Spying this scene as it unfolds through her open
parlor window, Charles knocks on Claire’s front door and, after some clever
maneuvering by Clementine, is admonished by Claire for taking certain liberties
with his understanding of their ‘friendship’. Moving swiftly, Charles gives a
grand party to introduce Claire into polite society. However, in attendance is Russian
aristocrat, Zolotov (Mischa Auer) who clearly recognizes Claire as a woman of
somewhat ill-repute who dallied with the rich in St. Petersburg. Hushed tales
of Claire’s wild times abroad eventually reach Charles’ ears. Insulted, he challenges
Zolotov to a duel. Zolotov, a coward, retracts the rumors he has spread, but
imparts one fact about Claire that bears itself out – namely, she used fake
fainting spells to ingratiate herself to wealthy suitors. As this modus operandi
rings true in the way Charles and Claire met, Charles’ brother-in-law now
suggests the family cannot support his marriage to Claire. Well aware her future
prosperity hangs in the balance, Claire concocts an alter-ego – her cousin,
Lili from St. Petersburg, who she debuts just as Charles has come to call off
their engagement. In doubt of her fidelity, Charles agrees to meet Lili at the
Oyster Bed Café, a dive down by the docks. Charles brings Zolotov to the
restaurant to make a positive identification. Suddenly insecure, Lili elects to
leave the café, though not before she inadvertently bumps into Latour. Forlorn,
Robert confides in Lili he is desperately in love with Claire. Assuming he can
take care of two problems at once, Charles offers to pay Robert’s loan debt on
his boat if he will agree to take Lili away from the city for good.
Already suspecting Claire and Lili are one in the
same, Robert agrees to these terms. He then follows Lili back to Claire’s house
and observes as she changes her clothes and assumes her role as the lady of the
Maison. Now, Robert informs Charles what he has found out. Together, they conspire
to abduct Claire/Lili until the wedding day. However, Robert has not the heart
to hold Claire against her will and she, instead, elects to spend the night of
her own free will, proving her true love. The wedding day begins as planned.
Claire arrives at church without further incrimination from the family and is
escorted by Charles toward the altar. However, as she spies Robert among the
attending guests, Claire cannot bring herself to go through with the marriage.
Instead, she feigns another fainting spell. Ushered from the church, and
getting lost in the crowd, Claire and Robert make their way back to his boat.
With all his debts absolved, Robert and Claire sail set sail from the city with
all speed. She strips down and out of her wedding gown, tossing the sparkling
white garment overboard, observing as it floats down the Mississippi,
eventually to be discovered by the fishermen.
The Flame of New Orleans is a turgid and
clumsy escapist fantasy, tricked out in all the studio-bound elegance Universal
could muster. Joseph Pasternak later speculated the critics had unjustly savaged
the picture and Clair’s reputation, reasoning that if Clair had similarly made it
in French it would have been deified for its ‘Gallic wit, deft French touch’
and ‘Latin sauciness.’ Retrospectively, Pasternak would also infer he
was planning to depart Universal anyway, so the picture’s implosion at the box
office held little interest for him one way or the other. With all due respect
to Pasternak, I suspect that time had already colored his reflections. While
Rene Clair’s uber-sophistication was dealt a harsh blow from the picture’s
negative response, the critics were largely justified in their reactions to it.
As we only have the picture to judge, the net result of all of Clair’s
meticulous pre-planning remains the same – a romanticized snore in which a
great many possibilities and talents were utterly squandered on a wafer-thin story.
It is not merely that Clair’s Euro-sophisticate’s subtlety has been lost on
American tastes and sentiment; rather, the story, trudging along at a snail’s
pace from start to finish, with Dietrich, undeniably a decorous mannequin who
misguidedly fails to interpret the lighter bits of comedy beyond the printed
word. Even Clair had his misgivings with the end result, in later years,
judging the picture as ‘technically superior’ but absence of a certain je ne
sais quoi, unfulfilled by attempting to straddle an irreconcilable chasm between
European and American tastes.
The Flame of New Orleans arrives on
Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s alliance with Universal Home Video, in a 1080p transfer
not unlike others offered by the studio, cribbing from an older video master
that ought to have been updated for this release. Honestly, I really do not see the point in slapping
tired old masters to disc if even basic clean-up is not going to be applied. Scratches,
dirt and other age-related artifacts are present, although not to egregious levels.
If not pristine, the image is not quite a disaster either. Director of photography, Rudolph Mate lights
Dietrich with a sort of regale splendor, captured in soft glow and gauzy focus.
She looks magnificent and every bit the exotic ‘flame’ of the title – that is,
until she opens her mouth. There are
some untoward edge effects, shimmering of fine details, and some minor pixelization
to render film grain with a slight lean toward digital grit. The 2.0 mono DTS
delivers crisp dialogue with Frank Skinner’s score sounding wonderfully nuanced.
Kino has shelled out for an audio commentary from author/historian, Lee Gambin
and actress/film historian, Rutanya Alda, plus trailers for this and other ‘mostly’
Dietrich-inspired product currently being peddled under the Kino banner. Bottom
line: The Flame of New Orleans is not a good movie – period. Frankly,
the Gambin/Alda commentary was far better and more entertaining than the movie.
Consider this one for Dietrich completionists only. Others can pass, and be very
glad that they did.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
1
VIDEO/AUDIO
3
EXTRAS
1
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