THE GREAT WALTZ (MGM, 1938) Warner Archive

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, once, the studio with 'more stars than there are in heaven' was an incredible assembly line for creating celluloid magic of the most incomprehensible scope and with blistering consistency throughout Hollywood’s golden age. Indeed, theater patrons were known to burst into spontaneous applause at the sight of Metro’s Leo the Lion, even before the resultant spectacle unfurled before them. In its prime, MGM was the Cartier of movie-making.  It would remain an empire for nearly 3 decades, untouched by the ravages of the Great Depression. Viewing the studio’s output throughout the 1920’s, 30’s, 40’s and 50’s boggles the mind. As here was a demesne so rich in its artistry and story-telling heritage it seems quite impossible it should have ever existed at all. And it was not, as some have speculated, changing times and tastes that eventually submarined the greatest studio in all of Hollywood (and, arguably, the world), but rather the endless corporate discord that followed the ousting of Metro’s raja, Louis B. Mayer in 1950 – the revolving door of studio ‘heads’ to follow him, quite unable to manage the daily operations of his glorious kingdom.

The bittersweet proof of this splendiferous bygone era is MGM's myriad of celluloid treasures. These are the only tangible assets to have survived the brutal strip down and wrecking ball mentality of Kirk Kerkorian’s mid-70s purge and garage sale. Kerkorian’s shortsightedness effectively broke the studio down to bedrock, making Leo a mere figurehead in the industry he had helped to create and, over which he had held dominion. MGM’s catalog, however, endures – thanks to cable media mogul, Ted Turner. And it is a grand testament to the studio’s peerless past. So many movies from MGM are beloved; many more, continuing to resonate an untarnished magnificence long after the legends who created them are no more. Director, Julien Duvivier's The Great Waltz (1938) does not entirely fall into this category as ‘iconic’ entertainment. And yet, this never diminishes the picture’s valiant attempts to win over our hearts. Given MGM's penchant for star power, The Great Waltz’s one saleable asset is Luise Rainer, hot off her back-to-back Best Actress Oscar wins for The Good Earth (1935) and The Great Ziegfeld (1936). Rainer, who left us in 2014 just shy of her 105^th birthday, was one of MGM’s most exotic birds of paradise. And although born in Texas, an air of European sophistication permeated Rainer’s youth, as her family moved to Vienna shortly thereafter.  Rainer’s rebellious nature as a teen would serve her well later in life. But for the moment, she studied hard with theatrical impresario, Max Reinhardt, appearing in several German films by the mid-1930’s. This brought her to the attention of Mayer who – then – was in search of European talents to fatten Metro’s roster. Mayer was likely unaware that his attraction to Rainer’s ‘coquettishness vulnerability’ was mislaid – as, while demure on the stage, off it, Rainer possessed a forthright nature that would eventually make her persona non grata in Mayer’s eyes.  

Rainer’s meteoric rise to fame took Hollywood by storm. And her even more unanticipated win of two consecutive Oscars (unparalleled until Katharine Hepburn did it 30 years later!) made Luise Rainer the envy of the world. It also placed Rainer on a collision course with her boss. While Rainer greatly respected Mayer’s second-in-command, VP Irving Thalberg, she almost as distinctly abhorred Mayer as a bully. So long as Thalberg lived, Rainer could anticipate the trajectory of her film career would remain a mutually beneficial alliance. Alas, Thalberg unexpectedly died in 1936. Mayer’s response was to merely market Rainer in disposable fluff to capitalize on her popularity. The culmination of these efforts was The Great Waltz, a picture Rainer decidedly did not want to make, but also to prove her final success at the studio. Worn down by the studio’s breakneck pace, Rainer appealed to Mayer for a much-needed break, suggesting that her ‘source’ of inspiration had dried up. Mayer’s inability to grasp this concept resulted in Rainer’s declaration of independence from the man and his company. To hear Rainer tell it, “…I said to Mr. Mayer, I am now in my twenties. When I am the age of most of the actresses you have under contract…you’re dead…and that is when I will start to live.  And I walked out. That was the end between Mr. Mayer and me.” Disenchanted – and unemployed – Rainer left Hollywood for New York where she eventually wed, then just as quickly divorced playwright, Clifford Odets. Her post-MGM career was uneventful, with intermittent film and television appearances filling her time.

Oddly enough, given her status at MGM, Rainer plays second fiddle to ‘new find’, Miliza Korjus in The Great Waltz. Also flanking the great lady - Fernand Gravey, whom Mayer hoped to transform into an intercontinental lover in the vein of Charles Boyer.  The Polish-born soprano, Korjus had toured Russia with the dumka choir in the mid-20s,  eventually to skulk across the border and join the Berlin opera company in 1933. Thalberg then signed her to a 10-year contract, sight unseen. And although nominated as Best Supporting Actress in The Great Waltz, this would prove Korjus’ one and only movie for MGM. Following a horrific car accident, Mayer terminated her contract. As for Gravey – although his filmography would be considerably more extensive, it also proved as undistinguished. After appearing in silent films abroad, Gravey’s Hollywood debut in 1937 confined him to the Gallic/lover stereotype eventually occupied by Louis Jourdan in the mid-50s.  MGM had hopes of starring Gravey in a sound reboot of Scaramouche. Instead, Gravey returned to Europe where he became a part of the French resistance while appearing in several movies there. Both Korjus and Gravey ought to have become big stars after The Great Waltz. But neither did.

The picture’s screenplay by Gottfried Reinhardt, Samuel Hoffenstein and Walter Reisch is a very loose-fitted biopic of Vienna's waltz king, Johann Strauss II. In reconstituting Strauss' life and times as a pseudo-musical, the writers are blessed with a back catalogue of the great man's music. Whenever they paint themselves into a narrative corner, the lilting strains of Strauss suddenly fills the air, brought on with a bout of swirling cinematographer, a la Joseph Ruttenberg. Plot wise: it's 1845 and Johann Strauss II (Fernand Gravey) - 'Schani' to his friends - is a discharged bank teller who forms his own orchestra from a pack of unemployed and otherwise cast off musicians hungry for their chance to make good. Otto Dommeyer (Herman Bing) gives Johann and his boys a venue to play their music. Alas, their debut is a bust. That is, until Dommeyer opens the windows to his establishment, allowing the rest of Vienna to hear Strauss' orchestra perform. The concert draws the whole of Vienna to Dommeyer's restaurant, including operatic prima donna, Carla Donner (Miliza Korjus).

She unabashedly flirts with the young maestro, encouraging him to perform that very evening at the home of Count Anton Hohenfried (Lionel Atwill). Strauss' fiancée, Poldi Vogelhuber (Luise Rainer) is encouraging, but at the same time harbors a deep-seeded insecurity all of Strauss's new found success will go to his head. She has good cause for this concern. Carla exposes Strauss's music to the upwardly mobile masses, only to pursue him romantically, even though she makes no apologies for also chasing after a lustful dalliance with Anton. Johann is, at first, put off by Carla's divided affections. He returns to Poldi and proposes marriage. For some time afterward the two are contented. But Carla has fallen under the spell of Johann's music. She will not give him or it up for anything. When Johann is commissioned to write an opera for Carla his wildest dreams are realized. But Poldi has found them out. She sacrifices the great love for her husband. Carla and Johann make plans to run away together to Budapest. Too late, Johann realizes he has made a fateful mistake. The fire and music with Carla is not equal to the enduring romantic love and devotion of his ever-faithful wife. Johann sends Carla to Budapest alone and returns to Poldi.

The last few moments in the film are dedicated to Strauss's legacy. In their waning years, the Strausses are summoned to the palace by Emperor Franz Josef (Henry Hull) and Johann is celebrated as a much-beloved and iconic figure in the Viennese tradition. Curiously enough, although Strauss is touched by this epic assemblage of well-wishers, at one point in the concluding medley of his works he thinks he hears and sees Carla Donner singing above the crowd – proof, his memories of her have not faded with the passage of time. The Great Waltz is extravagant escapism, supremely entertaining if totally untrue. The real Johann Strauss was born into a stringent Catholic family. His father – as celebrated for music – liberally beat his son in a bizarre attempt to discourage his chosen path as a musician/composer. Owing to the influence of his father’s patronage in Vienna, only Dommayer’s Casino would employ the younger Strauss. An instant hit with patrons, Strauss II went on accepting commissions to compose more music. The revolutions of 1848 drove a further wedge between father and son, but also caused Strauss to be passed over twice for the much-coveted position of KK Hofballmusikdirektor. When his father died a year later, Strauss took over his orchestra and began to celebrate both their contributions to Viennese culture.  Achieving greater fame than his father, the strain proved too great to maintain. Strauss suffered a nervous breakdown, but recovered and returned to composing. As for love and romance – the real Strauss II wed singer, Henrietta Treffz in 1862, whom he remained ever-devoted to until her death in 1878. Just 6-weeks later, he wed actress, Angelika Dittrich – an ill fit that ended in divorce. As this was not accepted by the Roman Catholic Church, Strauss changed both his religion and nationality to wed Adele Deutsch in 1887 – a marriage to last until his death from pleuropneumonia, age 73, in 1899.

Whenever anyone says "boy, they sure don't make movies like they used to" The Great Waltz is likely just the sort of pic being referenced. We can forgive MGM its total rewrite of this history to fabricate one more in keeping with L.B. Mayer’s ideal of grand romantic fantasy film-making. Dimitri Tiomkin's re-orchestrations of Strauss's immortal waltzes and polkas are particularly adept at 'contemporizing' the schmaltz that fills our ears throughout the film. Oscar Hammerstein's Anglo-lyrics manage to yield a few pop tunes, including They'll Come A Time - trilled to artistic perfection by Miliza Korjus. The curiosity and even greater disappointment is that Korjus - who radiates brilliance in song as well as acting style - never made it in films afterward. But what a ‘one hit wonder’ she is here – utterly superb and in perfect pitch.

To date, the Warner Archive (WAC) has deigned to release The Great Waltz only to DVD as part of their MOD program. While advertised as ‘remastered’, not much of an attempt has been made to clean up age-related artifacts. While grayscale tonality is passable, and fine details are solidly represented for standard def, one can only imagine how magnificent this one would look if it ever arrived on Blu-ray.  Contrast is solid, with pristine whites and very deep blacks. But it’s the age-related dirt and debris that frequently gets in the way of our total enjoyment of this music-filled pseudo-biopic. However, WAC has shown great promise mining long-forgotten nuggets of joy from its own, as well as the MGM and RKO libraries. So, we may wait in anticipated hope The Great Waltz may someday find a place in WAC’s pantheon of truly remastered B&W classics in hi-def. The audio here is mono. Quiescent scenes infrequently suffer from ever-so-slight hiss and pop. The only extra is a badly worn theatrical trailer. Bottom line: The Great Waltz, while not a perfect film, nevertheless gives us MGM glamor and entertainment with a capital ‘E’. It’s just one of those ‘oh so good for a rainy day or some snowy night in front of the fire’ spectacles, mind-boggling in its production values, and joyous and tune-filled besides. The DVD is imperfect, but passable. Judge and buy accordingly.

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

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

0