QUEEN CHRISTINA: Blu-ray (MGM, 1933) Warner Archive

For her penultimate close-up in Queen Christina (1933), director, Rouben Mamoulian reportedly told his star, Greta Garbo, he wanted her to think of nothing. “You are but a beautiful mask,” Mamoulian suggested, “Let the audience write upon it what they will.”  90 years later, audiences are still trying to decode the enigma. Quite likely, by 1933, Greta Lovisa Gustafsson was trying to figure as much out for herself.  After all, under the rubric of truth being ‘stranger’ than fiction, it made for excellent – if slightly confusing – copy precisely how such a being as Garbo could ever have come from the womb of a mortal woman. The unicorn that was Garbo arrived from her native Sweden to be with lover/director, Mauritz Stiller. MGM’s Louis B. Mayer desperately wanted Stiller for American pictures. But he could not decide what to do about Garbo, whom he once described as an “awkward peasant girl” and, upon her first appearance on American soil, abruptly informed, “Americans don’t like their women fat…and get your teeth fixed!” We really must hand it to Mayer – if not, for his tact, then irrefutably, his star-making prowess, as ‘Garbo’ - that magnificent creature, catapulted into the American silent cinema stratosphere, bears no earthly resemblance to the frumpish girl who disembarked the S.S. Drottningholm in 1925.

Garbo could still not speak a stitch of English when she made her MGM debut in Torrent (1926), a seedy, silent melodrama. But it mattered not a hoot, as what she was able to convey with seemingly no effort, but just a glance, generated kilowatts of screen eroticism.  And when Garbo followed this up with Flesh and the Devil (1926), costarring John Gilbert, the die was cast for a romance both on and off celluloid in which Gilbert’s drawing power as Metro’s he-hunk of the day melted under the spell of her boldly titillating passion. By their third outing, A Woman of Affairs (1928), Garbo was an MGM star of the first magnitude – a title she would carry into, and further cement, in the age of the talkies. In private, Garbo and Gilbert would continue to cut their cuffs and collars behind closed doors until he, believing sex equated to love, prepared a surprise wedding to seal the deal. Too bad for Gilbert, Garbo was a ‘no show.’  In 1930, the grave concern was Garbo’s thick Swedish accent would tank her chances in the new-fangled talking pictures. Such a fate had already befallen many a beloved silent screen siren or stud. But with Garbo, MGM had nothing to fear. Her first ‘sound’ pic, Anna Christie (1930) was a colossus, earning Garbo a Best Actress Oscar nod (though not the win). Throughout the 1930’s, MGM carefully crafted a series of spectacles to capitalize on Garbo’s intercontinental appeal. She played everything from the WWI spy, Mata Hari (1931), to a self-destructing ballerina in Grand Hotel (1932), resulting in a nation-wide hysteria that proved too much for the generally reclusive star to handle. Briefly, retreating to Sweden, Garbo was coaxed back to MGM by a $300,000 stipend to make Queen Christina.

Made during Hollywood’s pre-code era where pretty much anything was permissible, Queen Christina was not without its controversy, as one scene had Garbo – disguised as a man – tenderly kissing a female costar. At the outset, Garbo caused another ruckus after Mayer proposed a spate of leading men, including Charles Boyer and Laurence Olivier – amiable, enviable choices to be sure. Garbo however, wanted John Gilbert whose star, by 1933, had turned to chalk. Gilbert’s descend from Hollywood royalty was only partly brought about by the early microphones exaggerations of his wan voice, which did not match audiences expectations.  More likely, his downfall was precipitated by an unforgivable indiscretion during his aforementioned failed ‘wedding’ reception. Chagrined by Garbo’s failure to materialize, Gilbert was apoplectic and inconsolable, confronted by Mayer in the men’s room. Mayer reportedly told Gilbert, “Sleep with her. But never marry her.”  Gilbert took a potshot at Mayer, knocking his boss to the floor. And Mayer, a very bitter lion when he wanted to be, made the executive decision, then and there, to destroy Gilbert’s career. At least, so the rumor goes.

Whatever the truth, inferior films followed and by 1933, Gilbert was no longer even remotely considered star material. He was working as a director at Fox when MGM offered him a 7-year contract for a paltry $75,000. At Garbo’s considerable behest, Gilbert returned to MGM as the Queen’s consort, Antonio Pimentel de Prado. It would be the final jewel in his world-weary crown. In ill health, owing his excessive alcoholism, Gilbert suffered his first heart attack in 1935, then another, proving fatal, at his Bel Air home in 1936. He was only 38-years-old. In the aftermath of a very private funeral - which Garbo did not attend - Gilbert’s estate was divided amongst his last ex-wife, actress, Virginia Bruce, their daughter, Susan Ann, his eldest daughter from a previous marriage, Leatrice, and several close friends, relatives, and his servants. Though Gilbert would receive a star on Hollywood’s walk of fame, his reputation was all but expunged from the annals of time – a devastating eclipse.

Queen Christina may not represent John Gilbert’s finest hour on the screen – in point of fact, he appears gaunt, if seemingly in excellent form. But Queen Christina affords Gilbert one final opportunity to display the sort of electro-charged sex appeal that was, at its zenith, an aphrodisiac to thousands of adoring female fans, and virtually, the stuff of legend in all the movies he made with Garbo. And she, whether out of pity, respect or a fatalist’s reminder their past was in the past, reveals an astounding amount of sad-eyed desire, the Queen’s longing to be loved on her terms as a woman first, tragically cut short when the picture’s protagonists are parted forever.  Although Garbo’s domestic popularity was at its pinnacle in 1933, Queen Christina’s box office success rested squarely on the foreign markets to offset her exorbitant salary and the picture’s costly production values. Mercifully, Queen Christina proved another Garbo megahit on both sides of the Atlantic. Viewed today, the picture’s virtues are on very solid ground. Mamoulian’s direction is swift and assured. He pauses just long enough to allowed the H. M. Harwood and Salka Viertel screenplay, with additional dialogue by S. N. Behrman to tell the tale of an ill-fated romance void of the usual cliché and hyperbole.

Nevertheless, it ought to be noted, Queen Christina is a highly fictionalized account of the life and times of the Swedish monarch who ascended to the throne – age, 6 – in 1632, but went on to become one of that nation’s most influential figures. In our story, the Queen (Garbo) is devoted to the welfare and prosperity of her people. Staunchly favoring peace and an end to the Thirty Years’ War, Christina, is committed to good governance, and has spent the entirety of her youth to become an intellectual, rejecting outright the pleasures of love and marriage, despite insistence from her councilors to wed her cousin, Karl Gustav (Reginald Owen) – precisely, to produce an heir. Disillusioned by her fate, Christina, disguised as a man, skulks into town, patronizing an inn where she first meets Antonio Pimentel de Prado (John Gilbert), the Spanish envoy on route to the capital. Unaware to whom he is speaking, Antonio makes a casual friendship with the Queen believing her to be a traveler. The innkeeper (Ferdinand Munier) also unknowing, begs the Queen’s indulgence to share her room and bed with Antonio, as all the other rooms at the inn are occupied. Unable to deny the request at face value, the Queen publicly agrees, but later, in the room, reveals to Antonio, she is a woman. Still kept in the dark about her royal status, Antonio makes a play for this beautiful stranger. The couple begin their tryst, extended when an unexpected blizzard leaves them snowbound.

Upon their separation, Christina vows to Antonio, they will see each other again in Stockholm. However, when Antonio is first presented to the Queen, he is deeply wounded by what he now considers her betrayal, perhaps, politically motivated to compromise his loyalty to the King of Spain who is proposing marriage to her via Antonio. In private, the Queen makes it quite clear she never intended for Antonio to betray his mission. She loves him dearly, and will not entertain the King of Spain’s proposal. Alas, the wicked Count Magnus (Ian Keith), having previously seduced the Queen, now raises the specter of treason to raise the Swedish court against Spain. The Queen ably quells these politically motivated fires – for the moment. Then, in a decision that shocks the aristocracy, Christina names Gustav her successor, abdicating the throne for love. Determined to reach Antonio before he boards his ship bound for Spain, Christina discovers her lover mortally wounded after a duel with Magnus.  Antonio dies in Christina’s arms, declaring his love to her. Having severed all ties with her past, Christina sets sail for a very uncertain future, preferring to live the rest of her days abroad in Antonio’s ancestral home, previously described to her as perched atop white cliffs overlooking the sea.

Queen Christina has all the trappings of a resplendent Hollywood epic, as well as the romantic/tragedy elements that typified the very best Garbo vehicles produced at MGM. Garbo is never anything less than luminous as she emotes, suffers, and marks the Queen’s personal triumph as a resolute woman of substance, underestimated by her peers. In the intervening decades, Garbo has become largely lampooned for one line of dialogue she first uttered in Grand Hotel, “But I want to be alone.” This has long-since been used to infer the logic behind Garbo’s self-imposed exile after 1941, a genuine oversimplification of her powers as one of the screen’s irrefutable goddesses. Garbo would follow up Queen Christina with only a handful of outstanding achievements: The Painted Veil (1934), Anna Karenina (1935), Camille (1936), Conquest (1937) and Ninotchka (1939), before committing to the disastrous, Two-Faced Woman (1941).  Although humiliated by the negative reviews, Garbo’s MGM career was really ended by the loss of revenues derived from her pictures in the European market due to WWII. Perhaps, as a testament to her willingness to still find work, nearly a decade after her departure from MGM, Garbo signed a contract with indie-producer, Walter Wanger in 1948. This led to a series of screen tests for which no resultant movie was forthcoming.

Billy Wilder had hoped to cast Garbo as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard (1950) over at Paramount. Alas, she did not share in his interests. Scripts were presented, but always rejected and Garbo retreated to a lavish Manhattan apartment to live out the rest of her days, largely as a recluse by her own design. Viewed today, Queen Christina is muchly celebrated for Garbo’s performance – and justly so. Yet, in hindsight, Mamoulian’s stilted direction holds the picture back from truly evolving into a timeless classic. The camera’s love affair with Garbo is golden. When she is on the screen, she is magnetically appealing. And there is not a false note in her fire and music. This unfortunately distills the rest of the cast – particularly John Gilbert – into little more than essential window-dressing, otherwise to connect-the-dots in the plot when Garbo is not around to carry the load. Does it work? Marginally, though not nearly as well as when she is front and center, caught in a series of miraculous close-ups that simultaneously reveal extraordinarily subliminal gestures of angst, fear, longing and regret. It is this conflict from within that ignites the screen and makes us care about Christina and her failed ambitions to be loved. Garbo’s failed ambitions to be loved? That is another story for another time…possibly, for all time.

Queen Christina arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC) in a 1080p transfer that achieves much of the opening night sparkle of its theatrical release. Over the years, these B&W elements have been beloved, abused, curated, and finally restored to a point where much of the wear and tear of 90 years gone by has been eradicated. MGM’s resident cinematographer, William H. Daniels’ use of diffusion filters to create a soft, romantic ambiance, are well-preserved, with a light smattering of film grain appearing very indigenous to its source. Contrast is excellent. It should be noted, Queen Christina is not a film to utilize very deep black levels. About the darkest we get is in the Queen’s royal robe, looking velvety and gorgeous in hi-def. The 2.0 DTS mono is precisely what it is – limited by early Westrex sound-recording methods, but expunged of its quiescent hiss and pop. Apart from an episode of TV’s MGM on Parade, detailing Garbo’s tenure at the studio, and, a badly worn theatrical trailer, there are NO extras. Bottom line: another Garbo classic comes to Blu looking years younger than it ought. With this release, only Garbo’s sound classics, Anna Christie, Mata Hari, The Painted Veil and Anna Karenina remain MIA. If anyone at WAC is reading this: Anna Karenina next…pretty please! Bottom line: highly recommended!

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

1