In an era when iconic stars meant more than at any other time, two of the brightest were Greta Garbo and Clark Gable. Although there was some considerable overlap between their periods of stardom, this fairly standard 1931 melodrama was their only movie together. This is not as surprising as it seems, since repeated star pairings were always carefully formed through apparent compatibility. Garbo and Gable however were players of remarkably different style and temperament.
Garbo had already been an established – and massively popular – actress in the silent era, and despite the considerable hype around her early talkies, in retrospect her silent features remain her best period. It's not her accent; it's just that her mellifluous, almost operatic manner did not really work when out loud. By contrast, without sound her mesmerising presence remains pure and captivating. She would later adapt for speaking roles, and by the late 30s producers would be actively casting her in parts that suited her ethereal style, notable highlights being Camille (1937) and Ninotchka (1939). As it is, her performance in Susan Lenox is already an improvement upon her at-the-time-celebrated but now very clunky talkie debut in Anna Christie (1930).
Gable on the other hand was an up-and-comer at this point. In fact, though he was gaining familiarity as a supporting player in movies such as Night Nurse and A Free Soul (both released earlier the same year) he was thus far getting typecast as a thuggish gangster. The reason his potential as a desirable lead man hadn't fully been realised yet was a simple case of presentation. All it would take was a thin moustache and a few locks of hair drooping over his forehead, but appearing as he does here clean-shaven and hair slicked back, all you see is an ordinary man with a somewhat odd-shaped face. When he makes a few appearances towards the end of Susan Lenox with a few days' stubble, mussed-up hair and rolled-up sleeves, the effect is incredible. I feel it was a big failing on the part of the filmmakers to not make more of this rugged Gable in his earlier appearances and the final scenes.
To be fair though, director Robert Z. Leonard is really more interested in favouring Garbo, who was then the better-known and more bankable star. Although this was some time past the period when movies were often shot in both sound and silent versions to cater for places that hadn't yet made the switch, Leonard still sticks to a primarily visual form of storytelling. There are numerous close-ups of hands and feet in action, often used to open a scene and give it context. He allows many of the ideas and feelings of the characters to come through in wordless glances, often relegating the dialogue to the status of embellishment. With such purity he is responsible for staging some haunting and powerful moments, such as the sideshow proprietor's coercing Garbo into bed, the two of them moving closer to the screen without uttering a sound.
The differences between Garbo and Gable were not confined to their approaches to the craft; apparently they despised each other offscreen too. Still, it's a testament to the considerable talents of the both of them that there seems to be a decent rapport between them as a fictional couple. Both were after all great screen lovers, at their best when dizzy with passion or locked in an embrace, and a movie like Susan Lenox is bread and butter to them both. They meet here in passing, Garbo (although younger) already past her peak, Gable just rising towards his. And while neither of them is at their ideal, star quality is supreme, and it turns out this is not a bad little movie.
Garbo had already been an established – and massively popular – actress in the silent era, and despite the considerable hype around her early talkies, in retrospect her silent features remain her best period. It's not her accent; it's just that her mellifluous, almost operatic manner did not really work when out loud. By contrast, without sound her mesmerising presence remains pure and captivating. She would later adapt for speaking roles, and by the late 30s producers would be actively casting her in parts that suited her ethereal style, notable highlights being Camille (1937) and Ninotchka (1939). As it is, her performance in Susan Lenox is already an improvement upon her at-the-time-celebrated but now very clunky talkie debut in Anna Christie (1930).
Gable on the other hand was an up-and-comer at this point. In fact, though he was gaining familiarity as a supporting player in movies such as Night Nurse and A Free Soul (both released earlier the same year) he was thus far getting typecast as a thuggish gangster. The reason his potential as a desirable lead man hadn't fully been realised yet was a simple case of presentation. All it would take was a thin moustache and a few locks of hair drooping over his forehead, but appearing as he does here clean-shaven and hair slicked back, all you see is an ordinary man with a somewhat odd-shaped face. When he makes a few appearances towards the end of Susan Lenox with a few days' stubble, mussed-up hair and rolled-up sleeves, the effect is incredible. I feel it was a big failing on the part of the filmmakers to not make more of this rugged Gable in his earlier appearances and the final scenes.
To be fair though, director Robert Z. Leonard is really more interested in favouring Garbo, who was then the better-known and more bankable star. Although this was some time past the period when movies were often shot in both sound and silent versions to cater for places that hadn't yet made the switch, Leonard still sticks to a primarily visual form of storytelling. There are numerous close-ups of hands and feet in action, often used to open a scene and give it context. He allows many of the ideas and feelings of the characters to come through in wordless glances, often relegating the dialogue to the status of embellishment. With such purity he is responsible for staging some haunting and powerful moments, such as the sideshow proprietor's coercing Garbo into bed, the two of them moving closer to the screen without uttering a sound.
The differences between Garbo and Gable were not confined to their approaches to the craft; apparently they despised each other offscreen too. Still, it's a testament to the considerable talents of the both of them that there seems to be a decent rapport between them as a fictional couple. Both were after all great screen lovers, at their best when dizzy with passion or locked in an embrace, and a movie like Susan Lenox is bread and butter to them both. They meet here in passing, Garbo (although younger) already past her peak, Gable just rising towards his. And while neither of them is at their ideal, star quality is supreme, and it turns out this is not a bad little movie.