DESIRE: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1936) Kino Lorber

A delectable Marlene Dietrich, and exceptionally dapper, Gary Cooper make pretty sexy music together in director, Frank Borzage’s Desire (1936) – a farcical escapist caper/comedy, co-produced by Borzage and Ernst Lubtisch. A pseudo-road picture with a Euro-trash edge, the screenplay by Edwin Justus Mayer, Waldemar Young and Samuel Hoffenstein, based on a story by Hans Székely and Robert A. Stemmle, inveigles Cooper’s American automotive engineer, Tom Bradley with Dietrich’s devious jewel thief, Madeleine de Beaupre. Imbued with Lubitsch’s lithe and lovely intercontinental charm, Desire is the sort of champagne cocktail that sparkles in its ersatz recreations of Paris and Spain, a la Paramount production designers, Hans Dreier and Robert Usher, and romantically lit cinematography by Charles Lang, with an assist from an uncredited Victor Milner. Dietrich, then Paramount’s reigning bird of paradise, positively shimmers in artful creations by the studio’s resident designer, Travis Banton. All the studios cultivated an ‘in house’ style back in the day and Paramount’s, in hindsight, is best typified by Banton’s plushily posh concoctions. Along with MGM’s couturier, Gilbert Adrian, Banton is widely regarded today as one of the influential costume designers of golden age Hollywood, precisely for his collaborations with the uber-glamorous Dietrich. Herein, he sheaths the sultry and exotic star in feathers and silks, capturing her glycerin slink in his faux glitter and gloss.  As for Gary Cooper, the mid-western monument of congenial masculinity is tailored in a series of double-breasted suits, complimenting his lanky and authentic, understated acting style.

Desire is a sumptuous affair, enlightened by the sight of Coop’ and Dietrich in their prime. Cooper, while a family man, had several high-profile extramarital affairs during his long-standing marriage to New York debutante, Veronica Balfe, including a tempestuous flagrante delicto with Patricia Neal, his co-star in The Fountainhead (1949). In Desire, Coop’ is playing to that sort of amiable ‘Capra-esque stud quality he would exhibit fully-formed one year later in Capra’s own, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936). The interplay of delight and other more intimate emotions Cooper is able to convey with just a raised eyebrow or half-crooked grin, emanate a strangely sexy innocence – just a big kid in a sinfully handsome man’s body. As for Dietrich – she radiates smoldering sensuality, previously to have made her the toast of Berlin and the go-to gal for playing otherworldly sophisticates. In private, Dietrich made no bones about her bisexuality, and this, in an era when such picadilloes were career-breakers, or, at the very least, universally frowned upon. It likely helped that Dietrich was European – the puritan public in America willing to accept ‘sex’ on the other side of the pond as more laissez faire.  The melding of the wily Cooper and ravishing Dietrich in Desire yields to an exceptionally virile on-screen chemistry.  When Cooper’s Tom Bradley realizes he has been played for a fool by this haughty woman whose heart he…well…desires, he turns the tables with a cruel engineer’s joke, fixing her car horn so it will screech without a break.  She, in turn, feigns interest in him, when in reality she is after the string of pearls earlier planted in his coat pocket, then, steals his car, driving off to a fashionable hotel for a rendezvous with her cohort in crime, Carlos Margoli (John Halliday).  

The dénouement to Desire is pure Lubitsch wish-fulfillment as Tom’s brash young buck storms the citadel of apprehensions to win Madeleine’s heart, engaging the two men she earlier played against one another to act as witnesses for their marital bliss. Until this predictably Hollywood ‘happy ending’ it was all rather intriguingly written to possibly suggest otherwise. Our story begins in Paris where automotive engineer, Tom Bradley is rehearsing a defiant speech for Mr. Gibson (William Frawley), his boss and founder of the Bronson 8 automobile company. Tom believes Gibson will not be receptive to his demands for a much-needed vacation, but is presently surprised when, upon bursting into Gibson’s office, he finds his employer quite receptive to the offer of a paid respite. Better still, Gibson has decided to loan Tom a company car, provided he agrees to an advertising plaque affixed to its rear spare tire. Happily, Tom elects to embark upon a motoring tour of Spain, inadvertently bumping into the chauffeur-driven car of Madeleine de Beaupre. Unaware of what their future holds, Tom continues on his merry way, leaving Madeleine to arrive at the modish Paris jewelry shop of Aristide Duvalle (Ernest Cossart), whom she cons into delivering a string of million-dollar pearls to the offices of renowned psychiatrist, Maurice Pauquet (Alan Mowbray) whom she passes off to Duvalle as her husband. Later, Madeleine arrives at Pauquet’s offices, pretending to be Duvalle’s wife and suggesting he is mad, and worse, turned from wearing pajamas to nightgowns (the screenplay’s clever way of suggesting a homosexual underpinning). Pauquet promises to ‘cure’ Duvalle of this predilection. Thus, when Duvalle arrives late that evening with the pearls, Madeleine takes immediate possession of them before ushering Duvalle into Pauquet’s private office and leaving both men to unravel the truth while she effortlessly escapes into the night with the necklace. Gutsy broad. Daring heist.

Madeleine and Tom’s paths cross again as she races toward the Spanish border, whizzing by and splashing mud all over his Bronson 8 and him as he pauses to take a selfie. Tom pursues Madeleine. As both cars near the border, the horn on Madeleine’s car sticks, annoying the customs officers. Tom gallantly fixes it. Anxious the pearl necklace might be discovered on her person, Madeleine slips it into the pocket of Tom’s jacket, only to learn she needn’t have bothered, as the officers quickly let her pass. Not so much for Tom, whom they reveal is concealing multiple packs of cigarettes in his suitcase. Nevertheless, the officers do not find the necklace and neither does Tom. Sometime later, Madeleine feigns car trouble on the side of the road. Tom again rescues her, driving up the road, but in a different dinner jacket than the one he wore at the border. Suspecting the other garment to be in the boot of his car, Madeleine coaxes Tom out of the car, then takes off, unaware he has already removed his suitcase and thus, remains in possession of the necklace. Tom later finds his Bronson 8 wrecked along the side of the road, but is informed by a peasant farmer the woman driving it was taken by ox-cart to the nearby hotel in San Sebastián.

Now, passing herself off as the ‘Countess’ de Beaupre, Madeleine and her accomplice, ‘Prince’ Carlos Margoli conspire on how to find Tom and get the necklace back. In the meantime, a policeman, Avilia (Akim Tamiroff) reluctantly asks if the countess would indulge the young man who claims she has stolen his car. Madeleine agrees. As Avilia cannot fathom the countess as a criminal, he does not stick around for Tom’s interrogation. Tom confronts Madeleine and Carlos. He passes himself off as her uncle and offers to cover all the expenses of the ‘accident’ – suggesting Madeleine is a madcap on the cusp of being disinherited for her reckless behavior. Carlos’ hospitality fools Tom. Now, he performs a slight of hand in Tom’s presence, removing a string of fake pearls from Madeleine’s neck and making them vanish into thin air, suggesting Tom check his coat pocket. Indeed, Tom is amazed to discover the real pearls and willingly hands them back to Carlos, unaware he has been duped yet again. Having reclaimed their ill-gotten gains, Carlos now encourages Madeleine to break off from Tom and join him in Madrid where they originally planned to fence the stolen jewels. Instead, Madeleine confides she has fallen in love with Tom, and despite the protestations of Carlos and ‘Aunt’ Olga (Zeffie Tilbury), another of this motley gang of thieves, she and Tom become engaged. Carlos taunts Madeleine about not being able to tell Tom the truth. Instead, she does just that. Tom encourages Madeleine to steal back the necklace and together they return it to Duvalle, who personally forgives her. At the couple’s penultimate wedding, we find Madeleine’s parole document accidentally substituted for their marriage license as Pauquet and Duvalle – now Pauquet’s patient – attend the wedding as witnesses.

Desire is an effervescent bauble and a real high-point in the careers of both its stars. Just prior to the release of this movie, Paramount’s interests in Dietrich had begun to wane, thanks to a string of high-profile and expensive box office disappointments. Dietrich, who had tired of the studio’s decision to keep her persona hermetically sealed in a sort of stilted vacuum of screen exoticism, delighted at the opportunity to appear in a romantic comedy, reflecting years later, “The only film I need not be ashamed of is Desire…I found Gary Cooper a little less monosyllabic than before. He was finally rid of Lupe Vélez, who had been at his heels constantly throughout the shooting of Morocco. The script was excellent, the roles superb - one more proof that these elements are more important than actors.” As for Cooper – his star, steadily on the ascendence, was catapulted even further into the stratosphere. Initially, the role of Carlos had been planned as a ‘comeback’ for silent matinee idol, John Gilbert, since to have fallen on hard times. Alas, Gilbert tragically died of an alcohol-induced heart attack in his dressing room only a few weeks into pre-production, necessitating his replacement with Halliday. Some of the scenes in the picture were, in fact, directed by Lubitsch as Borzage left to complete prior commitments at Warner Bros. Despite some thoroughly convincing sets and stock footage shot on location in both Paris and Spain (highly unusual for the time), used for rear projection, Dietrich and Cooper never left the Paramount backlot to make this movie. In the end, both stars could chock this one up in their win/win column.

Desire arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s alliance with Universal Home Video, the present-day custodians of all Paramount’s pre-fifties catalog. Unlike more recently pumped out Uni product, with Uni cribbing from decades’ old transfers merely slapped to disc, the results on Desire teeter on impressive, thanks to a new 2K scan from surviving elements that have somehow weathered the decades better than most. Aside: precisely why Uni persists in doing 2K transfers when 4K upgrades have since become the norm is, frankly, beyond me! Age-related artifacts are present but never to egregious levels. Fine grain is solidly represented and tonality in the B&W gray scale is impressive. The image occasionally leans towards softish. Fair enough, cinematographer, Charles Lang used diffusion filters to create the ‘Lubitsch’ look. But a few long shots just appear slightly out of focus. These, however, are the exception rather than the norm. The 1.0 DTS mono is crisp and clean. Extras include 2 audio commentaries, both exclusive to this release. The first, from historians, David Del Valle and Nathaniel Bell offers some interesting backstory, while the other by historian, Samm Deighan fills in the factoid blanks and provides some ‘impressions’ on the picture’s impact and history. We also get a slew of theatrical trailers meant to help market other Kino/Uni/Paramount product. Bottom line: Desire is a gemstone from Dietrich’s Paramount tenure – a rare glimpse as to where her career was headed after she left the studio and became an indie contract player, with a longevous career as that rare enchantress in films, as well as a legendary run as a nightclub entertainer. The Blu-ray is quality affair with minor caveats. Highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

2