James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan work in a knick-knack and luggage shop in Budapest. They argue fitfully with one another. Neither knows that they have a secret shared relationship, exchanging billets-doux by mail. By the end, after considerable mix-ups and secondary events, the hidden relationship is revealed and everyone enjoys a happy Christmas.
It sounds sickening. I avoided it for years and stayed as far away as possible from its recent remake, "You've Got Mail" in which, instead of using the post, the would-be lovers exchange their love notes by email.
But it was wrong to ignore the original. Lubitsch is not a slob. He rarely goes for the cheap shot and he knows ironic wit when he hears it. There is only one hug in the entire movie. (I counted.) Further, there are first-rate performances by most of the cast. The film is based on a play, so there really aren't that many characters. Sullavan looks pleasant without looking beautiful, and Stewart is Stewart, in one of his best pre-war performances. I'll give an example. Stewart is visiting Sullavan after he (but not she) has found out that they are secretly drawn to one another. Knowing this, he has written a letter praising his epistolary self. As they sit together, the letter is delivered to Sullavan and she lights up like the bulb on a Christmas tree and reads aloud the panegyric that Stewart (in his role as co-worker) has written about himself (as lover). Watch the expressions slowly make their way across Stewart's features, blending shame, pride, modesty, and calculation. It only takes a minute.
In fact, the pace is pretty fast. Nobody shouts but everybody says what they have to say and darts off somewhere else. So, in expecting a sludge of sentimentality and tears, I must have been thinking of another movie. This one has quiet irony and is -- I don't know how to say this exactly, but it's European in its sensibilities. I'd have expected it from France but not Hollywood.
It sounds sickening. I avoided it for years and stayed as far away as possible from its recent remake, "You've Got Mail" in which, instead of using the post, the would-be lovers exchange their love notes by email.
But it was wrong to ignore the original. Lubitsch is not a slob. He rarely goes for the cheap shot and he knows ironic wit when he hears it. There is only one hug in the entire movie. (I counted.) Further, there are first-rate performances by most of the cast. The film is based on a play, so there really aren't that many characters. Sullavan looks pleasant without looking beautiful, and Stewart is Stewart, in one of his best pre-war performances. I'll give an example. Stewart is visiting Sullavan after he (but not she) has found out that they are secretly drawn to one another. Knowing this, he has written a letter praising his epistolary self. As they sit together, the letter is delivered to Sullavan and she lights up like the bulb on a Christmas tree and reads aloud the panegyric that Stewart (in his role as co-worker) has written about himself (as lover). Watch the expressions slowly make their way across Stewart's features, blending shame, pride, modesty, and calculation. It only takes a minute.
In fact, the pace is pretty fast. Nobody shouts but everybody says what they have to say and darts off somewhere else. So, in expecting a sludge of sentimentality and tears, I must have been thinking of another movie. This one has quiet irony and is -- I don't know how to say this exactly, but it's European in its sensibilities. I'd have expected it from France but not Hollywood.