An Interview with Ruta Lee: A Lively Conversation about Seven Brides, Marlene Dietrich, Perry Mason, Khrushchev...and More!

Ruta Lee made her big screen acting debut in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in 1953 at the age of eighteen. She has been performing ever since! Her film roles have run the gamut from portraying Tyrone Power's girlfriend in Witness for the Prosecution (1957) to starring opposite the whole Rat Pack in Sergeants 3 (1962). She has guest-starred in dozens of television shows, including multiple appearances in classics such as Perry Mason, Gunsmoke, and The Andy Griffith Show. She has also gained acclaim as a stage actress with credits ranging from Hello, Dolly to Steel Magnolias.  Ruta Lee is a great believer in volunteerism and serves as the Chairman of the Board Emeritus for The Thalians, a non-profit organization that "raises funds to educate and enlighten the world about mental illness." She recently returned from Lithuania where she was the keynote speaker at a women's conference.

Café:  Your first movie role was as one of the brides in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. What are some of your memories from making that classic musical?

Ruta Lee:  There are so many memories that it would probably take four weeks of us sitting down and talking about them. I think the best part was my mother, who took me to the audition, going into the church across from casting at MGM and getting on her knees and praying. I, on the other hand, went into the audition in my little ballet tights and shoes and danced for the choreographer. He told me to do a little ballet and do a little a jazz. Then, he said: "How about a little something folksy?" Well, I'm of Lithuanian descent and if there's one thing I know, it's a good Lithuanian polka. So, I did my polka for him. I'm not sure if it was my polka or my mother's prayers, but I got the job.

Café:  In Billy Wilder's Witness for the Prosecution, you played Tyrone Power's girlfriend. What was it like working with Wilder, Power, Charles Laughton, and Marlene Dietrich?

Ruta, as a brunette, and Tyrone Power.

Ruta Lee:  First of all, Billy Wilder was probably one of the most innately funny people that God put on this Earth. He has a wonderfully wild sense of humor. It showed up in a great deal of his work, like Some Like It Hot. When I first came into Witness for the Prosecution, it was several weeks after production had started. The studio had taken two huge sound stages and built a replica of the Old Bailey courtroom to three-quarters scale, which was incredible. I had been warned by the make-up department, who said: "Listen, Ruta, Charles Laughton is sometimes a nasty old gay who doesn't like young girls, so just do your work, know your lines, and everything will be fine." So, I came onto the set, in my little tight dress and perky hat, and everyone is sitting around in British tea circles. No one is saying hello to me or welcome. For the first time in my life, I wished the floor would open up and swallow me--that kind of a feeling. And, as I'm standing there, somebody walks up behind me, smacks me on my butt, and sends me flying across the stage. I turn around and it's Charles Laughton. He says: "That's the best damn ass I've seen in a long time." And I became his baby doll. He would sulk if I didn't come in to say good morning to him before anybody else. He taught me to play all kinds of games like Perquackey and Scrabble; he was quite the game player. He and his wife Elsa (Lanchester) would sometimes invite me to lunch in their dressing room. She was trying to watch his weight...ha, ha! They helped me with my middle British accent. High English and Cockney are rather easy, but that middle English was tougher. They were the dearest, most wonderful people and I will love Charles Laughton until the day I die. As for handsome Ty Power, I adored him. He was a lovely, lovely man and very sweet. I will never forget telling him that I hadn't seen Blood and Sand, which was a terribly important movie in his career. He arranged a screening of it for me. Then, of course, there was Marlene Dietrich. Marlene is one of the most professional people that I've ever known, but she was not exactly thrilled with young girls. When she saw my screen test for Witness of the Prosecution, she said "nein" when she saw the blonde hair and I was a brunette overnight. She was very cool and had little to do with me. She was a little bit warmer when I saw her in later years. Boy, though, I learned a lot from her. All you had to do was watch her. She knew about cinematography and lighting and what worked for her and what didn't. She'd say to our cinematographer: "I believe I'd like that inky under my chin here because I could use a little more light." He'd say: "Oh, Marlene, you don't need it. You're well lit. I'm taking care of you. We don't even have an inky." And she'd say "I do" and she'd open up a big trunk and there was the inky she needed for a light. I wish all of us had taken lessons from her because she really knew what she was doing.
(Note: An inky, or inky dink, is a small light of 100-250 watts.)

Café:  You were the female lead in Sergeants 3 (1962), which starred Frank Sinatra and the whole Rat Pack. How would you describe that experience?

On the set with Frank Sinatra.

Ruta Lee:  The most fun of my life. We laughed all the way through making that film. Poor (director) John Sturges kept trying to get our attention. I tried to do all my work properly, but you could not help but laugh because Dean Martin is a truly funny man. Frank is a funny guy, Joey Bishop was a funny guy, and Sammy is one of the most delicious people ever. It was one big lark. And, of course, they all treated me like their little, baby sister that had to be taken care of. I thought, oh hell, I could have had an affair with all of them and written books...but I didn't.

Café:  You guest starred in almost every classic TV series in the 1960s (and many beyond that). What were some of your favorite guest star roles?

As a "bad girl" in Twilight Zone.

Ruta Lee:  I think that playing a bitchy, little tramp in The Twilight Zone ("A Short Drink from a Certain Fountain") was one of my favorites. When I got through doing a scene, there came a big round of applause from the crew members up on the catwalk. Later, when I finished work that day, they said the applause was because I was good and reminded the crew of their favorite: Carole Lombard. I thought, wow, what a compliment! I also believe I did a good job in a Bonanza episode ("A Woman Lost"), but it was before everyone's agent nominated them for an Emmy. I could have won one with the right publicity. One of the great learning experiences for me was the stuff I did on Perry Mason. Gail Patrick was a beautiful star from the 1930s and into the 1940s, who became a producer. She would hire me a lot. It was always very interesting to me that there was this exquisitely beautiful woman who was not afraid of young girls and not afraid of the competition. I did at least five Perry Mason episodes and that was almost like going to acting school. Working with that cast was absolutely wonderful. I could also say that about the work I did at Warner Bros. One of the mistakes that I made back then was that I said no when Warner Bros. wanted to put me under contract. The contract would have paid me $300 a week whereas I was doing one to two shows a month for $750 a week. But when you go under contract to a studio, you have a powerful machine behind you. You get lessons in whatever you need. You get a publicity department behind you. You get put into roles without having to audition for them. Still, I was very grateful, because I got to do shows like Cheyenne, Maverick, 77 Sunset Strip, and Hawaiian Eye. I was a fixture at Warner Bros. The house that I'm sitting in now I call the "House that Jack (Warner) Built" because my Warner Bros. salaries and residuals helped make the payments.

Café:  When we interviewed Julie Adams in 2013, she also said how much she enjoyed guest starring on Perry Mason.

Ruta Lee:  I don't know if this happened with Julie, but I would get invited as a guest to dinner parties, not every week, but maybe twice a year at Gail Patrick's home. She was married to a man named Cornwell, or Corny, Jackson. I just felt so honored to be among the elite of Hollywood and listen to their stories. It was a great honor and I will never forget Gail Patrick for that.

Café:  Were there any actors that you particularly enjoyed working with?

Ruta Lee:  I loved working with everybody. I am a very easy person to get along with and I enjoy people and their stories. Needless to say, Frank, Dean, and the boys were just the best. Jimmy Garner was great fun to work with on Maverick.

Café:  You have also appeared in a number of stage plays. What were some of your favorite stage roles and why?

Ruta Lee in Hello, Dolly.

Ruta Lee:  My altogether favorite is one of the hardest roles to play and that's The Unsinkable Molly Brown. I played that role for the first time in Fort Worth, Texas, where I went on to perform it for 40 years. Because of Molly Brown, I became the darling of Fort Worth. The press would write that summer is here and Ruta is here, so everyone can enjoy their summer! It was a great role for me and the best part was the composer of the show, Meredith Wilson, came to see Molly Brown with his wife on opening night. When Meredith was interviewed by the press, he said: "Ruta is the best Molly of them all. If she had played it on Broadway, it would still be running." I also love Anne Get Your Gun, Bells Are Ringing, Hello, Dolly, and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, which is the easiest and still a great role in which to strut your stuff.

Café:  You and your husband, business executive Webb Lowe, Jr., celebrated your 43rd wedding anniversary in February. How did you meet and what is the secret to your long marriage?

Ruta and her husband Webb.

Ruta Lee:  I'll answer the second question first. The secret to our long marriage is having a great sense of humor. My husband taught me something the first year we were married. As a new young bride, I'd get upset and distressed if he didn't hear what I had to say or didn't bring flowers on an occasion. He said to me: "Let me ask you something. At the end of the day, will this be important? At the end of the week? At the end of the month? At the end of the year, will this still be important and will you still be thinking about it?" I realized that nothing in life is worth stressing over. I'm not talking about serious tragedies, but the usual daily routine. If you can't just laugh it off, then you don't need to be married. Now, as to how I met him, that's a fun story. I had promised the Ladies Professional Golf Association (LPGA) that I'd be its guest star at an event in Naples, Florida. At the time, I was doing a show in Dallas, which was supposed to close on Sunday and then I'd go to Naples on Monday. The theater owners came to me and asked if I could play another week since my shows were selling out. I agreed to do two shows on Sunday, go to Naples, and return to Dallas. I hadn't been feeling well, but I threw myself together, flew to Miami, and ran across the tarmac to a small plane which took me to Naples. I put on the feather boas and long eyelashes and made my big appearance at the LPGA. The next day, of course, I had to return to Dallas for a show and I had a fluey thing going on. So, I put a babushka on my head, big sunglasses, and not a stitch of make-up. It's hot in Florida, so I carried my fur coat as I ran across the tarmac. I go over to American Airlines and they tell me it's a turnaround flight and that they'll pre-board me as soon as it gets cleaned up. So, I was leaning against the counter, my head in my hands, and looking down at the floor. I see a great pair of Gucci loafers coming towards me. And I look up a little further and see nice slacks with a crease on them. I look up a little higher to see a double-breasted blazer with gold buttons. A little further, there's a great tie. And then I see a shock of silver hair and a face that's a cross between Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood. I said: "Be still my heart!" And he kept walking towards me...and then right past my counter and down the hall. I thought, oh shoot, we're just ships that pass in the night. So, the airline pre-boards me and I'm piling all my stuff under my seat and on the seat next to me. And all of a sudden, I look down and the same pair of shoes are standing there. And he said: "Is this seat taken?" And I said--for the last time in my life--no. And he leaned over and said: "Hello, my name is Webb Lowe." And I said: "Hello, my name is Ruta Lee. And we should be married, because then my name would be Ruta Lee Lowe and we could open a Chinese laundry."

Café:  That's a charming story! Now, I've read where you personally contacted Nikita Khrushchev in 1964, when he was the Premier of the Soviet Union, to secure the release of your grandmother from an internment camp. Can you provide the fascinating details?

Ruta and family reunited.

Ruta Lee:  I had been trying for years to get my grandmother out of Siberia where she had been deported. She spent fifteen years there. Most of my family was deported to Siberia. No one knows why. We're not talking about brilliant, educated teachers and writers. These were peasant folk who tilled the land and grew their own vegetables to eat. My grandmother was finally permitted to go back to Lithuania with some of the family and we received word that she was dying. We tried to keep them alive by sending packages. You could only send forty-pound packages and the contents were dictated by the Communists...one pound of coffee, one pound of lard, one pair of socks...that kind  of thing. I came home from work one day and my mother was in a state of tears. We had received a letter, though much of it was blacked out, and my grandmother was thanking us for sending clothes for her to be buried in. She had been to a doctor and was told she was going to die. I was so distressed. She was my one remaining grandparent and I had never met any of them. I went out with friends that night and the more wine they poured, the more obvious it became that I should pick up the phone and call Khrushchev--so I did. In those days, there was person-to-person calling and you didn't pay for the call if you didn't get your party. If you got your party, you paid maybe twice as much. I kept calling and calling and the American operator would talk to the Russian operator who would talk with the Kremlin operator, who would get back to me and say: "Nyet, nyet, nyet." In the meantime, I called the Russian Embassy in Washington to get permission to go to Lithuania and I'd get "nyet" there, too. Finally, the Kremlin operator called back and said: "Mr. Khrushchev doesn't speak English. You speak to interpreter to Mr. Khrushchev." I remembered a good-looking young man who traveled with Khrushchev when he was here and had translated for him. Anyway, I spoke with the interpreter and he said: "Miss Lee, we would be very happy to have you travel to the Soviet Union. We know you here. We see your films here. Why don't you speak to your congressman about it?" And I said: "Excuse me, sir. What the hell does my congressman have to do with my traveling to your country? This is not a political matter. It is a matter of the heart. What are you going to do about it?" And he said: "In half an hour, present yourself again to the Soviet Embassy in Washington." I thought, oh no, here we go again! I hung up and a half-hour later I called the embassy. This time, I was connected immediately to the first secretary, who was Lithuanian. Of course, he knew me because I was the one doing the Voice of America broadcasts against Communism. It's an absolute miracle that within 48 hours, my parents and I were on a plane headed to Moscow and then to Lithuania. They took us to my grandmother and six months later, I was given permission to bring her and an aunt back to the United States. She lived for two years, two months, and two days.

Café:  That's an amazing story.

Ruta Lee:  I've been writing a book for the last ten years. One of these days, I'll hopefully get it together and finish it. Maybe you'll help me out by telling all your readers to go buy Ruta's book!

Café:  I will certainly do that. Now, I know you're passionate about volunteerism. You, along with other stars such as Debbie Reynolds, have been deeply involved with a charity called The Thalians for many years. Can you tell about its mission and about how others can help?

Ruta at a Thalians event.

Ruta Lee:  First of all, everyone can go online to thalians.org and read about us there. It all started in 1955 with a group of young actors who got tired of being called hard-drinking idiots who had nothing to contribute. We'd get together to laugh and play at parties, so we decided we should sell tickets and make a few dollars for a charity. So, we sent Jayne Mansfield and Mamie Van Doren to find out what charities were available. They came back a few months later and said that all the big charities were taken. But they had found a doctor who worked with emotionally-disturbed children at Mount Sinai Hospital. At first, we raised funds for the children and then, eighteen years later, we built a clinic and went from pediatric to geriatric care. We were very proud that this small group of Hollywood performers had shone a spotlight down into that dark pit, which is mental illness, and tried to bring it into the light of healing. Many years later, we changed our focus to returning veterans, who came back scarred not only physically but mentally. We joined up with a group at UCLA called Operation Mend. It deals with the broken arms and faces and we deal with the broken spirits through The Thalians. We ask everybody who has $5, $50, or $5 million to please contribute to The Thalians. We have raised millions of dollars by doing huge shows starring the stars of all-stars and they all did it gratis.

Café:  Do you have any upcoming events that you'd like to tell our readers about?

Ruta Lee:  Yes, The Thalians has an event at the Music Center in Los Angeles on the 18th of May. It's a wonderful luncheon and not a terribly expensive one. If you go to our website, you can read about it and call our office for more information.

Café:  Ruta, you've been a highly entertaining and informative interview subject. Thank you for all of your charity work and for all you've brought to classic movie and TV fans throughout the world.

Ruta Lee:  That's very kind of you. Thank you and all of your readers, Rick. God bless you all.

Witness for the Prosecution: It's Billy Wilder--Not Hitch!

A dear friend of mine has referred to Witness for the Prosecution as an Alfred Hitchcock movie on more than one occasion. That's understandable--it looks, smells, and feels like a Hitch pic. The fact that it was directed by Billy Wilder is a testament to Mr. Wilder's versatility as a filmmaker. The Austrian-born writer-director was adept at making screwball comedies (One, Two, Three), film noir (Double Indemnity), satire (The Apartment), sophisticated comedy (Sabrina), drama (The Lost Weekend), and romance (Avanti!). In Witness for the Prosecution, he expertly blends courtroom drama and humor--in the best Hitchcockian tradition.

Tyrone Power as the defendant.

Charles Laughton stars as Sir Wilfred Robarts, a grumpy but shrewd London barrister who was recently released from the hospital after suffering a heart attack. Against the advice of his physicians, Sir Wilfred takes on a murder case (his specialty). His client is an affable chap named Leonard Vole (Tyrone Power) accused of killing an elderly lady. Vole's alleged motive is that the murder victim left him a substantial amount of money in her will. His alibi rests on the testimony of his German wife Christine (Marlene Dietrich), who leaves a decidedly cold impression with Sir Wilfred.

Based on a short story and stage play by Agatha Christie, Witness for the Prosecution is justly famous for its twist ending--which is flawlessly executed. It was probably one of the first films that marketed its climatic twist. Indeed, a voiceover prior to the closing credits asked moviegoers not to reveal the ending to their friends. However, like Hitchcock's Psycho, Witness is a strong film that's enhanced by its famous plot device. It certainly doesn't rely on a clever trick to be entertaining.

The film's success can be attributed to those old basics of good acting and good script writing. Laughton, who had a tendency to ham up some of his later roles, finds the perfect blend of seriousness and humor. He is matched by Dietrich and his wife Elsa Lanchester as Miss Plimsoll, a nurse charged with the unenviable task of caring for Sir Wilfred. Lanchester and Laughton make a delightful comic team, one savvy enough to generate laughs out of the contents of a thermos. Dietrich has a more difficult role, especially since her character is a conundrum for much of the film. However, when it comes to her big scenes, she exceeds all expectations.

Nurse Plimsoll and Sir Wilfred.

There was a time when I considered Tyrone Power to be the film's weak link. I still don't believe his performance ranks with the ones delivered by his co-stars. However, I have gradually come to the realization that Power is portraying a character playing a character. That's got to be a challenge, so, on that level, he does a solid job as the smarmy Vole.

Marlene Dietrich in the witness box.

In adapting Christie's play, Wilder and co-writers Larry Marcus and Harry Kurnitz made two significant additions. First, they added scenes showing how Leonard met Christine and later befriended the murder victim. The latter doesn't add much to the plot, but the scenes of Christine soften her character and help justify actions taken later in the film. Dietrich's nightclub number was reportedly based on a scene cut from Wilder's A Foreign Affair (1948), which starred Dietrich, Jean Arthur, and John Lund. The cabaret set cost over $75,000 to build.

Still, Wilder's most significant contribution to the script was the creation of the delightful Nurse Plimsoll. Many of the film's best lines are delivered by her or directed at her by the gruff barrister (Miss Plimsoll: "Sir Wilfred, we mustn't forget that we've had a teeny weeny heart attack."). Plus, Wilder gets a lot of mileage out of Sir Wilfred's amusing attempts to hide his vices (e.g., cigars and brandy) from Miss Plimsoll's watchful eyes.

Witness for the Prosecution earned six Academy Award nominations, including Best Director for Wilder, Best Actor for Laughton, and Best Supporting Actress for Lanchester. It was remade for television in 1982 with another impressive cast: Ralph Richardson as Sir Wilfred, Deborah Kerr as Miss Plimsoll, and Diana Rigg as Christine. I haven't seen that version since it's original broadcast, but recall it being very well done.

Stage Fright: Hitchcock, Lovely Ducks, and a Controversial Flashback

Spoiler Alert:  The following review reveals the film's ending.

As the film that preceded Hitchcock's "comeback" classic Strangers on a Train, Stage Fright (1950) is typically glossed over in the famed director's filmography. While it's true that it doesn't rank with his masterpieces (e.g., Vertigo, Rear Window), Stage Fright has much to offer: a clever opening, a playful homage to acting, a pair of delightfully quirky supporting performances, and--of course--that infamous flashback.

The proceedings get off to a fast start when two people in a convertible exchange the following dialogue as the car whisks through the streets of London:

EVE: Any sign of the the police?

JONNY (looking over his shoulder): It looks like we're getting away with it.

EVE: Good.

Jonny enters the apartment--the start of
a memorable, single-take tracking shot.

It quickly becomes apparent that Jonny (Richard Todd) is in trouble and has turned to Eve (Jane Wyman) for help. When probed by Eve, he explains that his lover Charlotte Inwood (Marlene Dietrich), a famous stage actress, came to him after murdering her husband following a quarrel. Charlotte needs Jonny to destroy her bloodstained dress and fetch a new one from her flat. Jonny does more than that--he restages the crime scene but is spotted by a maid and transitions from accomplice to suspected murderer.

Eve, who believes she's in love with Jonny, deposits the wanted man with her oddball father (Alastair Sim). She also becomes determined to prove Jonny's innocence. After a chance meeting with Charlotte's dresser, Eve hatches a risky scheme to go undercover and collect the evidence that will clear Jonny.

The twist in Stage Fright is that Jonny is not Hitchcock's typical innocent-man-on-the-run. Indeed, Jonny murdered Charlotte's husband and everything he told Eve at the start of the film--shown to the viewer via a flashback--was a lie. This revelation slips out as Eve and Jonny hide from the police in an opulent theatre at the film's climax. In a matter of seconds, Jonny evolves from hero to villain.

Jonny reveals the truth in
the theater.

Much has been written about the "lying flashback," chiefly that it doesn't play fair with the audience--a view postulated by Francois Truffaut in his book of Hitchcock interviews. However, this contention assumes that everything we see in a film is the "truth" as presented by the filmmakers. Hitchcock makes it clear that we are hearing and seeing Jonny's version of the events. It's not dissimilar from the various versions of the truth recounted (also in flashback) by the different characters in Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon. The key difference is that Jonny is an actor and he casts himself in the role of the framed innocent man--a part he plays not only in the flashback, but also in his post-murder dealings with Eve.

Alastair Sim, as Eve's father, paying
off blackmailer Kay Walsh.

Acting and the theater are a recurring motif in many Hitchcock films:  Judy played the role of Madeleine in Vertigo; Uncle Charlie was just a character masking a serial murderer in Shadow of a Doubt; and the mini-plays in Rear Windows were framed by windows, an analogy to the confines of a theatrical stage. However, Stage Fright trumps them all in the number of characters playing parts. In addition to Jonny playing the innocent man, Eve assumes the roles of newspaper reporter and Charlotte's dresser. Since deception is acting, too, Eve's father gets in the act by lying about Jonny to Eve's mother. The theater motif is emphasized too strongly perhaps, with opening credits against a stage curtain and a backdrop that crushes Jonny at the climax.

One imagines that Hitchcock was drawn to the source material because it stands one of his favorite themes on its head. Quick, how many Hitchcock films can you name about men wrongly accused of a crime who set out to prove their innocence and/or stop the bad guys with the aid of a strong woman? It's dominated his career from Young and Innocent to The 39 Steps to Saboteur, North By Northwest, and others. But in Stage Fright, the innocent man really is a killer--a point that must have amused Hitchcock.

Marlene singing: "My poor heart is
aching to bring home the bacon..."

In Truffaut's interview with Hitchcock, the Master of Suspense maintains that the two great flaws in Stage Fright are that the villain is weak and the characters are never in any tangible danger. I disagree with the villain being weak--when Jonny finally reveals his true self to Eve, he becomes an acceptable villain. I maintain that the problems are that: (1) Jonny is a minor character who disappears from the film for long stretches; (2) since Jonny is role-playing a good guy, there is no villain until the climax. And, as a standard mystery, Stage Fright puts forth few legitimate suspects: Charlotte, Jonny, Charlotte's manager, or the dresser Nellie (with the latter two in very little of the picture).

Joan Grenfell promoting the chance to
to shoot "lovely ducks."

While the principals in Stage Fright carry the load admirably (especially a charming Michael Wilding), two marvelous character actors almost steal it. Alastair Sim injects the film with some much-needed dry humor ("What sort of father are you?" asks a police inspector. The reply: "Unique.") Yet, even he is upstaged in a delightful scene with Joyce Grenfell manning a fund-raising booth for an orphanage at a garden party ("Half a crown to shoot a lovely duck!)". These two veteran British comedians play off each other brilliantly, providing the perfect levity for the classic Hitchcock scene that follows them: a young child carrying a bloodied doll through the crowd as Charlotte performs on a stage.

While the entertainment value is high in most Hitchcock films, I have a soft spot for the lighthearted ones that seem to show the director in a playful mood (this one, To Catch a Thief, and I'm slowly turning the corner on The Trouble With Harry). That's one of the reasons why I find Stage Fright methodically moving up my list of favorite Hitchcock films with each viewing.

About John Gilbert...an interview with Leatrice Gilbert Fountain

Today Turner Classic Movies will showcase the films of silent screen star John Gilbert as part of its "Summer Under the Stars" line up. Viewers will have a chance to see eight silents, a mix of Gilbert's most celebrated films and lesser-known gems, as well as six sound pictures, most rarely seen.

If this daylong tribute marks a high point in the resurgence of John Gilbert, it is also a triumph for his daughter, Leatrice Gilbert Fountain, who has worked tirelessly for nearly 40 years to restore her father's reputation.

I spoke with Leatrice after the "Summer Under the Stars" schedule was announced.

"Speechless and surprised," was Leatrice's reaction to the all-day honor, "and it's so satisfying."

Leatrice was born just as her parents, John Gilbert and silent film star Leatrice Joy, were divorcing in the mid-1920s. Raised by her mother (the two are pictured at right), she yearned to know her father. She recalls, "My nurse told my mother that I kept asking when my daddy was coming home." But the marriage was finished and Leatrice had little contact with her illustrious dad.

Time passed, and then came a summer Leatrice and her mother spent in Malibu - where, it turned out, her father was also staying. She had been trying but hadn't managed to run into him yet when one day, as she was rolling in the surf, the victim of a rogue wave, strong hands snatched her from the sea. Leatrice looked up to see that her rescuer was her handsome father.

A while later Leatrice sent him a letter; she asked for his picture and enclosed one of herself. This ignited what Leatrice calls "a brief, intense relationship" that spanned the last year of John Gilbert's life.

"He appeared, we clicked and the future looked bright," she remembers. He was the only adult in her life that didn't talk down to her, he spoke to her as an adult and asked her grown-up questions. "I was a news junkie even then," she says, and her father talked with her about various topics of the day, from President Roosevelt to the repeal of prohibition. In that short period, Leatrice achieved a bond with her father that she didn't have with her mother ("a sweet fluff-head") or stepfather.

"My father lived on a Hollywood hillside in a Spanish-style home near a water tower. In my mind he lived in the tower of a castle at the top of a hill." Gilbert had the aura of a storybook prince for his daughter and when he died suddenly of a heart attack in January 1936 at age 38, Leatrice was devastated. Her longed-for connection with him had completely engaged her and then he was gone - "I felt a great emptiness...I don't think I ever got over the loss."

As years passed, John Gilbert, a top MGM star at the height of the silent era, was reduced to a Hollywood footnote. What most people knew about him, if they knew anything, were oft-repeated (and reprinted) tales of an inadequate voice that didn't translate to sound, a broken romance with Greta Garbo, questionable acting ability and a drinking problem that killed him.

At the time of his death Gilbert's great silent pictures were no longer shown and his career was in flux, so Leatrice grew up not knowing enough about her father's life or career to actively dispute the mythology that had become accepted as truth.

By the early 1970s, Leatrice was a married woman with five children living on the East Coast. Though she didn't know it at the time, she was about to embark on one of her life's missions, the restoration of her father's name. New York's Museum of Modern Art invited her to a screening of one of John Gilbert's signature silent films, Erich von Stroheim's The Merry Widow (1925). Watching the film for the first time, Leatrice experienced a jolt; she realized her father was not simply a handsome face, but a gifted actor. She recalls, "A young fan came up to me and commented on the "wonderful film" and said he wanted to write a book about John Gilbert. It then became my cause...I knew I wanted to be the one to write the book."

Once committed, Leatrice began to seek out her father's other films. She traveled to Eastman House in Rochester, NY, where she told fabled film curator James Card, "I don't know anything about my father's work," and Mr. Card eagerly replied, "Come with me and I'll show you..." Between Eastman House, MOMA and the Library of Congress, she saw all of John Gilbert's available films.

Leatrice was a busy wife and mother when she began her research and so she worked "in bursts" over several years. In the course of her work she met with many people who knew or worked with her father. Today Leatrice looks back and realizes she began her undertaking in the nick of time; most of the people she interviewed were soon gone. She met with cameramen and other technicians, she met with directors like Clarence Brown, John Ford, Howard Hawks and King Vidor, and she met with stars like Joan Crawford, Marlene Dietrich, Lillian Gish and Norma Shearer.

According to Leatrice, some remembered John Gilbert from before he was a star, when he was affectionately looked upon as "an adopted kid on the MGM lot." All responded warmly to her and Leatrice discovered that they all had liked her father and respected his work. She stayed with King Vidor's daughter and was able to spend days talking with the man who had directed her father in two of his best silent films, The Big Parade (1925) and Bardelys the Magnificent (1926). Clarence Brown, who directed Gilbert and Garbo in Flesh and the Devil (1926), generously spent an entire afternoon with Leatrice sharing his memories.

Norma Shearer, whom Leatrice believes may have once had a fling with Gilbert, told her of his passing, "Some of the tears I shed while making Romeo and Juliet were for your father."

The transformation in industry and public perception of John Gilbert came slowly, but Leatrice recalls a moment when she knew attitudes were shifting. In the early '80s she was invited by esteemed silent film historian/author/documentary filmmaker Kevin Brownlow (co-producer of the distinguished Hollywood series for Thames Television) to introduce a screening of Flesh and the Devil in London. She remembers enthusiastic crowds of young and old lined up to see the film and that, "New writers and reviewers watched without bias and wrote about what they saw on the screen."

In 1985 St. Martin's Press published Dark Star: The Untold Story of the Meteoric Rise and Fall of the Legendary John Gilbert, Leatrice's biography of her father, written with John Maxim. Filled with Leatrice's detailed research, the book not only recounted the story of John Gilbert's life but also went a long way to set the record straight on the rumors about him.

Perhaps the most virulent myth debunked is the story that John Gilbert's "high voice" had caused the collapse of his career. Gilbert's first talking feature, a film Leatrice describes as "a romantic comedy that was mistaken by audiences and critics for a straight romance," was a resounding flop. The dialogue was laughable and laughed at. But some said it was Gilbert's voice that caused the tittering. The voice theory was not the consensus at the time but it was the story that stuck over time. Leatrice calls her father's voice "a light baritone similar to Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.'s." Ultimately, a combination of factors plagued Gilbert's transition to sound: his disastrous relationship with MGM kingpin Louis B. Mayer, the quality of the early talkies to which he was assigned and, perhaps, a change in audience tastes from Victorian-era morality to pre-Code realism.

In her book Leatrice pointed out that John Gilbert continued to receive film offers till the end of his life. Marlene Dietrich, his final love, had persuaded him to co-star with her in Desire (1936), but he was forced to drop out after he suffered one in a series of three heart attacks, the last of which killed him. Leatrice is firm that, though her father did drink to excess, "he did not drink himself to death."

Regarding Gilbert's storied romance and rumored near-wedding with Greta Garbo, Leatrice comments,"I don't think she ever had any intention of marrying him."

Dark Star was a great success and Leatrice traveled the talk show circuit, spoke to college audiences, appeared at silent film events and gave countless interviews. She still gives an occasional interview and has continued to frequent silent film festivals and screenings around the world, introducing her father's pictures and taking part in panel discussions. Her "swan song" on the road, she told me, might have been last year's annual Pordenone Silent Film Festival in Italy, the largest silent film festival in the world. At this writing, though, Leatrice is beginning to change her mind...she just might go to Pordenone again this year...I hope so.

She muses, "In his lifetime, my father did not believe his film work would last or be remembered and he said as much to his close friends."

Leatrice Gilbert Fountain's passionate campaign to restore her father's reputation has succeeded beyond anything she might once have imagined. Today she is happy to report that her children are able to "bask in the reflected glory of their grandfather." Like their mother, they attend screenings and introduce his films to new generations of appreciative fans.

John Gilbert on TCM, Aug. 24
(Times shown = Eastern/Pacific)

The Busher (1919) - silent with Colleen Moore - 6am/3am
He Who Gets Slapped (1924) - silent with Lon Chaney and Norma Shearer - 7am/4am
The Merry Widow (1925) - the silent film that made Gilbert a star - 8:30am/5:30am
The Show (1927) - silent directed by Tod Browning - 11am/8am
Desert Nights (1929) - Gilbert's last silent - 12:30pm/9:30am
Way for a Sailor (1930) - with Wallace Beery - 1:45pm/10:45am
Gentleman's Fate (1931) - directed by Mervyn LeRoy - 3:15pm/12:15pm
The Phantom of Paris (1931) - Gilbert took the title role followng Lon Chaney's death - 5pm/2pm
Downstairs (1932) - "a dark little masterpiece" - 6:30pm/3:30pmThe Big Parade (1925) - silent classic, perhaps Gilbert's best film - 8pm/5pm
Bardeleys the Magnificent (1926) - swashbuckling silent classic - 10:15pm/7:15pm
Flesh and the Devil (1926) - silent classic with Garbo - 12am/9pm
Queen Christina (1933) - Garbo and Gilbert's classic sound film - 2am/11pm
The Captain Hates the Sea (1934) - Gilbert's last film, with Victor McLaglen - 4am/1am

Into the West: Destry Rides Again & Saves Dietrich’s Career!!!

It’s 1939 and things aren’t going well for Marlene Dietrich in Hollywood. Her longtime collaboration with Josef von Sternberg is over and she hasn’t made a good film since The Garden of Allah in 1936. And, then, as luck would have it, she’s cast against type as an unglamorous saloon singer in a satirical western. Who knew that all this sophisticated international star needed was a good old-fashioned non-typical American Western to revamp her career?

Based on the Max Brand pulp story of the same name, this film was a remake of the 1932 Tom Mix film (and subsequently was later remade in 1954 with Audie Murphy). George Marshall directs a pair of Western virgins in Dietrich and James Stewart (playing the title role) and does his very best to parody the classic Western. For example, Stewart plays a pacifistic unarmed lawman in a town where flying bullets are the norm. Released in the same year as Stagecoach, the film that set the classic western standard, Destry Rides Again sets its own unique template that other films like Cat Ballou and Blazing Saddles would later borrow from.

The story take place in a town appropriately named BOTTLENECK—primarily because just about the whole movie takes place inside the Last Chance Saloon (where, yet another bit of irony here, Dietrich’s character works). Owned by a shady gambler named Kent (Brian Donlevy), the saloon is a hotbed for gunfights and cheating gamblers--most notably Kent himself. Right from the start, we see Frenchy (Dietrich) helping Kent cheat the hapless Lem Claggett (Tom Fadden) out of his $10,000 ranch by spilling hot coffee on him and allowing his cards to be switched. When Claggett complains to Sheriff Keogh (Joe King) that he was cheated, the sheriff confronts Kent and is shot and killed (off-screen).

Later, we see Frenchy doing her best Mae West impression as she sings “You’ve Got That Look That Leaves Me Weak” to a sexually charged audience. Soon after the song ends, Kent has the corrupt Mayor/Judge Slade (Samuel S. Hinds) announce the town drunk, Dimsdale (Charles Winninger), as the new sheriff.  Where is the esteemed new sheriff upon this announcement? Passed out on the floor, only to be roused by a whisky to the face. Oddly enough, he decides now is a good time to become sober. It seems that before he was a souse he’d been the deputy of Marshal Destry, a famous and respected lawman. He announces he’s going to hire Destry’s son, Tom (Stewart), to help bring order to Bottleneck.

Dimsdale’s (and also the town’s) expectations that Tom Destry will strike fear into criminals are quickly obliterated when a mild-mannered Tom emerges from the stage holding a parasol for fellow passenger, Janice (Irene Harvey). Immediately he becomes the source of ridicule, especially after he reveals that he doesn’t carry a gun and that he drinks milk instead of whisky. Frenchy goes so far as to give him a broom and bucket as tools that he can use to clean up Bottleneck. James Stewart is priceless in these scenes, with his famous aw-shucks attitude. With this characterization, George Marshall has now established the a-typical western sheriff/hero.

However, nothing is more priceless than the catfight between Frenchy and boarding house owner Lily Belle Callahan (Una Merkel). Angry that her Russian émigré husband Boris (Mischa Auer) has lost his pants to Frenchy in a card game, Lily accuses Frenchy of cheating and all hell breaks lose. In yet another atypical move, Marshall doesn’t have the obligatory barroom brawl occur between men but between two scrappy females. Perhaps one of the longest catfights ever, both women (without the aid of stand-ins) engage in punching and wrestling (among other things) one another to the ground (where they roll around for an extended amount of time) until Destry pours a bucket of water on them. Oh, no he didn’t!  This enrages Frenchy and she turns her wrath on him. After engaging in the same tactics she used on Lily, she grabs a gun and aims it at him. Deciding not to shoot him, she throws everything she can get her hands on at him and even finds herself on his shoulders at one time. This scene is absolutely side-splitting hilarious—her wrath and his bewildered amazement are priceless.

After Tom escapes the saloon, Dimsdale threatens to fire him for being the town laughing-stock. Tom tries to convince him that they can restore order without using guns. Explaining that a gun didn’t do his father any good when he was shot in the back in Tombstone, Tom convinces Dimsdale to give him a chance. We soon learn that just because he doesn’t want to carry a gun it doesn’t mean he can’t handle one. When he stops a group of cowboys from shooting their guns in the air, Tom borrows a gun and puts on a clinic to the amazement of onlookers. Soon Tom learns about the trouble between Kent and Claggett and decides that Frenchy is the person to get answers from. Over coffee in her room, Tom makes mild insinuations that Frenchy purposefully dropped coffee in Claggett’s lap to distract him from his cards. Offended, Frenchy throws him out, but not before he makes a sly comment about her not wearing so much makeup because it covers up her real beauty. As time wears on, Frenchy begins to admire Destry and even offers him her lucky rabbit’s foot and advises him to stay out of dark places.

With his newly sworn-in deputys, Boris, helping, Destry tricks Kent into believing that he knows where Sheriff Keogh’s body is. When Kent sends one of his thugs to check on the body, Boris and Dimsdale tail him and arrest him when he leads them to the body. To avoid the corrupt Mayor Slade presiding over the case, Destry sends for a federal judge. This causes Kent to plan a jailbreak for his man. Fearing that Destry will be killed in the jailbreak, Frenchy sends for him and tries to distract him by telling him she’s leaving town and wants him to go to New Orleans with her. When shots ring out, Destry rushes back to the jail to see the prisoner has escaped and that Dimsdale has been fatally shot. Having had enough, Destry arms himself with his father’s guns and with the help of the fed-up decent townspeople, storms the saloon. Frenchy even tells all the ladies (with pitchforks and rolling pins, nonetheless) they should help their men. While the townsfolk are taking care of Kent’s men in the bar, Destry climbs up to the second floor in search of Kent. Just as Kent is about to shoot Destry, Frenchy throws herself in front of him and is mortally wounded. After shooting Kent, Destry holds Frenchy in his arms and honors her last request for a kiss. The way Frenchy rubs away her lipstick at this moment is heartbreaking. In the end, order is restored to the town, but not before Destry has lost another two people he loved to guns.

Before he became the serious cowboy/hero in such westerns as Winchester ‘73 and Broken Arrow, Stewart got to play the atypical Western hero. His easy-mannered performance is not a surprise, as it was his calling card on just about every film he ever made, but it is interesting to watch his Destry spin yarns into valuable lessons. His Destry reminds me of a Wild West Aesop.

Dietrich, of course, had her career revived by this film. She would go on to make two other westerns, The Spoilers and Rancho Notorious, but neither topped her performance here. She shows so many sides to her character it’s difficult to keep up: sassy, sexy, fierce, humorous, fearful, and loving. The bawdiness she puts into her musical numbers, most notably “See What the Boys in the Back Room Will Have”, is wickedly enjoyable. She took a big risk playing against type here, but in the end it worked in her favor, as she started to play more diverse characters.

Hilariously entertaining on several levels, this is a true classic.

Fritz and Marlene Play Chuck-a-Luck in "Rancho Notorious"

Fritz Lang's complex tale of “hate, murder, and revenge” played a key role in the development of the “adult Western” in the 1950s. Films such as Rancho Notorious, Anthony Mann's The Naked Spur (1953) and Nicholas Ray's Johnny Guitar (1954) featured brooding, driven characters who struggled to maintain their morality in a violent world. They presented quite a contrast to John's Ford's dignified Western heroes, as embodied by John Wayne (She Wore a Yellow Ribbon) and others.

The “hero” of Rancho Notorious is Vern Haskell (Arthur Kennedy), a lovesick cowpoke only eight days away from marrying Beth (Gloria Henry). The couple's idyllic dreams are destroyed when an outlaw named Kinch (Lloyd Gough) rapes and kills Beth. Obsessed with revenge, Vern devotes his life to finding Beth's killer. His only clue, obtained from the dying lips of Kinch's partner, is the name of the killer's destination: Chuck-a-Luck.

In the ensuing months, Vern learns that Chuck-a-Luck has something to do with Altar Keane (Marlene Dietrich), a once popular dancehall queen. He also discovers that Altar's alleged lover, famed outlaw Frenchy Fairmont (Mel Ferrer), was captured while trying to purchase a bottle of perfume. Vern gets himself thrown into jail with Frenchy and then, through good luck and his sharp wits, helps Frenchy escape. The grateful Frenchy takes Vern to Chuck-a-Luck, a ranch hideout for outlaws operated by Altar Keane. It is here that Verne hopes to find and execute Beth’s killer.

Lang's original title for the film was Chuck-a-Luck, but RKO executive Howard Hughes changed it because he thought European audiences would not understand the title (Lang's alleged response: “But they would know what Rancho Notorious is?”). While Hughes' title certainly has more flair, Lang's Chuck-a-Luck is more appropriate. Chuck-a-Luck is not only the name of Altar's ranch, but it's also a game of chance that's integral to the film's plot. When Altar and Frenchy first meet, she is playing her last $20 piece on a rigged Chuck-a-Luck wheel (which can best be described as vertical roulette). Frenchy pushes the crooked Chuck-a-Luck dealer aside and spins the wheel himself, ensuring that Altar wins big.

Some film critics go so far as to suggest that Lang structured the film like a Chuck-a-Luck wheel. Vern's search for Altar’s ranch, shown through several montage sequences, represents the spinning of the Chuck-a-Luck wheel. The montage stops—just as the wheel does—whenever Lang wants to show an important event, such as the barber shop fight where Vern learns about Altar Keane or the flashback where Frenchy meets Altar for the first time.

Like many of Lang's films, Rancho Notorious depicts an honest man who, through the intervention of events beyond his control, becomes morally ambiguous. In his quest for vengeance, Vern helps an outlaw escape justice, participates in a bank robbery, and shows a willingness to kill in cold blood. In some Lang films, his protagonists suffer retributions or somehow reestablish their faith in humanity: In Fury (1936) and The Big Heat (1953), the vengeance-minded characters played by Spencer Tracy and Glenn Ford pull back from the brink of a meaningless world. However, like Vern in Rancho Notorious, it's too late for other Lang characters like Henry Fonda's petty criminal in You Only Live Once (1937) and Edward G. Robinson's henpecked husband-turned-murderer in Scarlet Street (1945).

Rancho Notorious has never achieved the classic status of Lang's most revered works, such as Metropolis (1926), M (1931), and the Dr. Mabuse movies. However, in the late 1960s, when film writers began to view Lang as an auteur, they elevated it to the status of an essential work in Lang's legacy. And, though rarely rated as a must-see Western (the stagy sets don’t help), Rancho Notorious remains a favorite among genre fans due to its influence on other dark 1950s Western dramas such as The Hanging Tree. Even the funky “Legend of Chuck-a-Luck” ballad begins to grow on you after a few viewings.

Blue Angel of mercy? Another view of Marlene Dietrich

Marlene Dietrich is one of only a very few film legends whose career spanned 60+years. Her life in film began in the early 1920s with silent pictures. It came to a close with Maximillian Schell's 1984 Oscar-nominated documentary, Marlene, in which she speaks but does not appear on camera.

Dietrich shot to fame as Lola-Lola in Josef von Sternberg's The Blue Angel (1930). Shortly after the film premiered, she left Germany for the U.S. where she and von Sternberg collaborated on six more films during the 1930s, all for Paramount Pictures. The first, Morocco (1930), was nominated for four Oscars, including a Best Actress nod for Dietrich. By the late 30s, her career had cooled somewhat but was reignited when she co-starred with James Stewart in the 1939 hit, Destry Rides Again. Although Dietrich continued making films in the 1940s, most were shot before the U.S. entered the war or made after the war ended. Though she appeared in only nine films from 1950 - 1978, several are classics: Hitchcock's Stage Fright (1950), Fritz Lang's Rancho Notorious (1952), Billy Wilder's Witness for the Prosecution (1957), Orson Welles' Touch of Evil (1958) and Stanley Kramer's Judgment at Nuremberg (1961).

In 1953, the Sahara Hotel in Las Vegas offered her the unheard of sum of $30,000 a week to perform on stage. Her run was so successful that she was quickly signed for a similar engagement in London. The London show was also a smash and she followed it with a return engagement at the Sahara. This was the beginning of Dietrich's celebrated career (and reinvention) as a high-ticket chanteuse that lasted through the mid-1970s. She performed her concert act for a 1972 TV special that earned her an impressive-for-the-era $250,000 paycheck.

Her final film appearance was a cameo in Just a Gigolo (1978) starring David Bowie.

Marlene Dietrich is generally remembered for her glamour and allure, her iconic films, her concert career and her amorous adventures. Her generous spirit is less well known.

Let's take a look...

While she was in England in 1937 working on a film, von Ribbentrop, Hitler's then-ambassador to Great Britain, approached her and pressured her to return to Germany. She refused and became a U.S. citizen in 1939. When America entered World War II, Dietrich was one of the first stars to sell war bonds. She entertained troops on front lines all over Europe and in North Africa, appeared at sevicemen's canteens and made anti-Nazi broadcasts in Germany.

The OSS (the CIA of the time) had a Morale Operations (MO) branch that began producing 'black' (propaganda aimed at psychological warfare) radio programs in 1943. These programs reached listeners throughout Europe and the Mediterranean and were intended to create discord in the Axis countries. In 1944, the MO began to recruit Hollywood talent to boost the quality of programming on its stations. The most popular station was Soldatensender (Soldiers' Radio), and one of the most popular songs it played was Dietrich's "Lili Marlene," with 'black' lyrics created especially for the German version. The Nazi government banned the broadcast of "Lili Marlene, " but the ban was lifted in the face of a backlash among Axis soldiers. "Lili Marlene" soon became the song played at the end of every Soldantensender broadcast.

In 1945, the U.S. government awarded Marlene Dietrich the Presidential Medal of Freedom, one of the first presented. Similarly, France made her a chevalier of the Legion of Honor.

But Dietrich's altruism did not begin with World War II. Consider...

In 1934 Dietrich became romantically involved with one of the great stars of silent films, John Gilbert. Gilbert's young daughter Leatrice came to know Dietrich through her father. In her 1985 biography of him, Dark Star, Leatrice Gilbert Fountain wrote of Dietrich's kindness to her, particularly after John Gilbert's death in early 1936.

According to Leatrice, during her romance with John Gilbert, Dietrich tried to help revitalize his career as well as his health and well-being. She arranged for Gilbert to make a test for the role of her jewel-thief partner in Desire. Gilbert got the part. Unfortunately, shortly after filming began, he suffered a heart attack and was replaced in the role.

Leatrice recalled visiting her father's house on December 24,1935 and being dazzled by the beautiful Christmas tree, decorated in the German tradition by Dietrich herself. She noted that Dietrich thoughtfully slipped away that day so she could spend time alone with her father.

Just over two weeks later John Gilbert was dead at 38.

Following his funeral, Dietrich contacted Leatrice's mother with information and advice about Gilbert's will that could benefit her daughter. Though her mother was unable to successfully pursue the information Dietrich provided, much more important to young Leatrice was the relationship she developed with Dietrich.

A week after John Gilbert's funeral, Leatrice received a beautiful bouquet from Dietrich with a card in her handwriting, "I adored your father. Let me adore you."

Leatrice Gilbert Fountain wrote in Dark Star that for many years thereafter Dietrich made a point of trying to fill the void left by her father's death. She remembers Dietrich as a "fairy godmother" and tells how the star took her to theater openings, on long walks and talks, baked cookies and cakes for her and generally made her feel like "a princess." All this was at a time when Dietrich was very busy with her film career.

Fountain reflects, "I wonder if Marlene Dietrich realized what a difference her presence made to me." She also recounts stories of Dietrich's early days in Hollywood when word began to circulate that she paid the overdue rent of a studio secretary who'd lost her job, that she picked up the hospital bill for the child of a studio electrician and other such acts of generosity. Fountain emphasizes that Dietrich would never take credit for these deeds nor would she talk to Fountain about her efforts to help John Gilbert; Leatrice had to go to other sources to find out.

Marlene Dietrich died at age 90 in Paris on May 6, 1992. Her celebrity remains legendary, but her humanity has a place in the Dietrich legend as well.

References: Dark Star by Leatrice Gilbert Fountain, http://www.cia.gov/ (2008 featured story), http://www.marlene.com/ (Marlene Dietrich/Official Website)

Love Stories: Marlene Dietrich Sizzles as Clive Brook's Former Flame Aboard the Shanghai Express

Jealousy, betrayal, obsession, passion…and this was only the fourth of the seven films Josef von Sternberg made with Marlene Dietrich. The title of their last film together: The Devil Is a Woman—coincidence? Ah, but this is not a review of the strange co-dependent relationship between director and actress. Instead, let's focus on the slightly less complicated romance between a fallen woman and a stiff-upper-lip Englishman.

As civil war is raging in China, a British surgeon, Captain Donald Harvey (Clive Brook) boards a train traveling from Peking to Shanghai, in order to reach the governor general, for whom he must perform brain surgery. Though the voyage could be perilous, his friends somehow envy him, as it is revealed that the notorious courtesan Shanghai Lily (Dietrich) is on board. Being a proper English gentleman, he’s never heard of her.

As chance would have it, onboard he meets a former lover, Magdalen, whom he hasn’t seen in five years. Things didn’t end well. She played games and tried to measure his love, and he was a jealous man who could only take so much before he left her. In the process of catching up, Magdalen informs Doc (as she affectionately calls him) that she has a new life and name. When asked if she’s married, a black-veiled Dietrich utters the classic line: "It took more than one man to change my name to Shanghai Lily." Um, awkward moment. Yet, it is obvious that they both still have feelings for one another—both good and bad.

Later, Doc learns from Reverend Carmichael (Lawrence Grant), who is troubled beyond measure about prostitutes traveling on the train, that Shanghai Lily had made one of his patients go insane and that there were countless others who’d had their lives ruined by her. I suppose at this moment Doc felt pretty foolish for carrying around a watch with her picture in it.

Meanwhile, there’s still a civil war going on in China. As such, government soldiers search the train and arrest the aide of Henry Chang (Warner Oland—yes, Charlie Chan!), a Eurasian merchant who is also a secret rebel leader. Angered by these actions, Chang sends a coded telegram to his rebels to attack the train at midnight. After securing the train, Chang takes Doc hostage so he can use him in exchange for his aide. He also offers to take Lily to his palace, but she declines, saying she’s out of the business. An eavesdropping Doc hears them, barges in and knocks Chang to the ground. This angers the rebel, but because he needs Doc alive, he does nothing and decides to take out his anger by raping Hui Fei (Anna May Wong), a friend and fellow prostitute of Lily’s.

Once his aide is released, Chang decides to exact revenge on Doc for his insolence by blinding the doctor. In order to save Doc’s eyesight, Lily offers to become Chang’s courtesan—just when she thought she was out, they pull her back in. Oblivious as ever, Doc’s old jealousies are ignited when he learns Lily is to stay with Chang. Fortunately, before this can happen, a revenge-seeking Hui Fei stabs Chang to death. However, this does not lessen the anger and resentment that Doc has toward Lily, whom he believes is still a no-good whore. Oddly enough, it is Reverend Carmichael who gets Lily to admit what she did out of love for Doc. Yet, she asks Carmichael not to reveal her secret, as she feels that without faith there is no love. Upon their arrival in Shanghai, Lily offers Doc a replacement watch and he gives into his love. In one of the more classic closing images in film, von Sternberg tightly moves in on the couple as they embrace and kiss on the station platform.

Nominated for three Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Cinematography [winner]), this was the Titanic of its time, with a box office record $3.7 million. Suffice to say, this was the biggest hit of Dietrich’s career as one of Hollywood’s leading ladies.

Dietrich and Brook have amazing chemistry. He fits the reserved Englishman type and she just sizzles as a worldly seductress. The furs, veils, ostrich feathers, and an array of dazzling costumes enable Dietrich to fully absorb the role of the vamp. In addition, with the aid of von Sternberg, Dietrich is able to reveal the softer, more vulnerable side to Lily as well. This is perhaps one of her top performances.

Fans of the Charlie Chan films will be shocked to see Warner Oland playing such a sinister character. It is not always easy to play against type, but Oland does a nice job conveying the menacing nature of Chang. In addition, Anna May Wong is also a delight to watch.

A classic love story about overcoming jealousy and having faith in, well, love.

This Cafe special was written by Kim Wilson. You can read more of Kim's reviews at her blog 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die.