When I first thought of writing a review of The Devil's In Love, made by William (here "Wilhelm") Dieterle for Fox Films in 1933, I thought I would begin by calling it the most von Sternberg-like film by another director that I know of. On reflection, while I think this is still true, I don't think Dieterle thought for a minute "This is going to be an imitation JvS" the way many directors decades later made obvious Hitchcock imitations, I think the similarities to JvS's Dietrich films are worth considering but the differences are really more important.
First, the similarities: There is a scene between Loretta Young and Victor Jory where the effect of shadows from an overhead trellis or some such on her face is reminiscent of the shots in JvS's Morocco where we see the French Legionnaires overlaid with similar shadow patterns. Probably Hal Mohr, the excellent cameraman, had taken notice of Lee Garmes's photography of JvS films and this sort of thing came naturally, without being intended as imitation or "homage."
When the hero (Victor Jory, more often a villain), fleeing from unjust punishment in the Legion, takes up residence in a new town under a new name, he is visited by an old flame, Rena (the excellent Vivianne Osborne), who operates a cabaret-brothel in town. Her joint looks like a seedier, more low-rent version of the one LoTinto (Paul Porcasi) operates in Morocco, which at least aspired to "class." (Interestingly, Paul Porcasi, who played LoTinto in Morocco here appears as an irascible bartender--much more butch-looking than LoTinto was.) Where LoTinto's cabaret had a special section for the "society" of Morocco, so they wouldn't have to mingle with the hoi polloi, Rena's clientele appears to be all hoi polloi.
Rena's floor show is the tackiest imaginable with no-talent dancers who, it is implied, can be rented out for other purposes. Her floor show opens with a brash, untalented comedienne in a ridiculous oversized headdress rushing on to perform a cockney comic song--a blatant "distanciation effect" of the kind JvS used in The Blue Angel and, though it came later, in unexpected moments in The Devil is a Woman to emphasize the painful humiliation of Lionel Atwill's obsession with Dietrich. Perhaps to Dieterle, with his cultured German background, this sort of thing came naturally, with any similarity to JvS unintended.
Even with these similarities, the differences are more salient. Dieterle moves his film along at a brisk pace, in the manner of WB films of the period and doesn't indulge in the dreamy languorousness of JvS films. The dialogue is delivered crisply and so the whole feeling of the acting is different, more realistic. (I suspect that JvS had Dietrich speak her lines so slowly not for any aesthetic reason but simply to compensate for her lack to fluency in English.) Dieterle gives his actors many big close-ups, which JvS used sparingly. Loretta Young is Dieterle's lovely leading lady, a fine actress who JvS would surely have found uncongenial--but that just shows his limitations! Victor Jory makes for a tough, virile, no-nonsense leading man, a distinct improvement over Victor McLaglen, Clive Brook and--dare I say it?--even Gary Cooper.
Since screenwriting is not often celebrated unless it calls attention to itself, I'd like to say a good word for Howard Estabrook's script--a model of compression that covers a lot of ground without seeming rushed. His dialogue scenes, though they lack the wit of Sternberg and Furthman, are good at conveying characters' backstories without seeming to, without any of the languid reminiscence common to JvS's principals.
All in all, an unusually interesting film that combines the pace and zest of the best WB films with the conscious artistry common not just to JvS but also to Paramount films of the time. Highly recommended. -- Patrick O'Neill, 3/12/22.
First, the similarities: There is a scene between Loretta Young and Victor Jory where the effect of shadows from an overhead trellis or some such on her face is reminiscent of the shots in JvS's Morocco where we see the French Legionnaires overlaid with similar shadow patterns. Probably Hal Mohr, the excellent cameraman, had taken notice of Lee Garmes's photography of JvS films and this sort of thing came naturally, without being intended as imitation or "homage."
When the hero (Victor Jory, more often a villain), fleeing from unjust punishment in the Legion, takes up residence in a new town under a new name, he is visited by an old flame, Rena (the excellent Vivianne Osborne), who operates a cabaret-brothel in town. Her joint looks like a seedier, more low-rent version of the one LoTinto (Paul Porcasi) operates in Morocco, which at least aspired to "class." (Interestingly, Paul Porcasi, who played LoTinto in Morocco here appears as an irascible bartender--much more butch-looking than LoTinto was.) Where LoTinto's cabaret had a special section for the "society" of Morocco, so they wouldn't have to mingle with the hoi polloi, Rena's clientele appears to be all hoi polloi.
Rena's floor show is the tackiest imaginable with no-talent dancers who, it is implied, can be rented out for other purposes. Her floor show opens with a brash, untalented comedienne in a ridiculous oversized headdress rushing on to perform a cockney comic song--a blatant "distanciation effect" of the kind JvS used in The Blue Angel and, though it came later, in unexpected moments in The Devil is a Woman to emphasize the painful humiliation of Lionel Atwill's obsession with Dietrich. Perhaps to Dieterle, with his cultured German background, this sort of thing came naturally, with any similarity to JvS unintended.
Even with these similarities, the differences are more salient. Dieterle moves his film along at a brisk pace, in the manner of WB films of the period and doesn't indulge in the dreamy languorousness of JvS films. The dialogue is delivered crisply and so the whole feeling of the acting is different, more realistic. (I suspect that JvS had Dietrich speak her lines so slowly not for any aesthetic reason but simply to compensate for her lack to fluency in English.) Dieterle gives his actors many big close-ups, which JvS used sparingly. Loretta Young is Dieterle's lovely leading lady, a fine actress who JvS would surely have found uncongenial--but that just shows his limitations! Victor Jory makes for a tough, virile, no-nonsense leading man, a distinct improvement over Victor McLaglen, Clive Brook and--dare I say it?--even Gary Cooper.
Since screenwriting is not often celebrated unless it calls attention to itself, I'd like to say a good word for Howard Estabrook's script--a model of compression that covers a lot of ground without seeming rushed. His dialogue scenes, though they lack the wit of Sternberg and Furthman, are good at conveying characters' backstories without seeming to, without any of the languid reminiscence common to JvS's principals.
All in all, an unusually interesting film that combines the pace and zest of the best WB films with the conscious artistry common not just to JvS but also to Paramount films of the time. Highly recommended. -- Patrick O'Neill, 3/12/22.