I Met Him in Paris

Director Ernst Lubitsch once famously said, “I’ve been to Paris, France and I’ve been to Paris Paramount. Paris Paramount is better.”

Despite its title, only a small portion of Paramount’s “I Met Him in Paris” (1937) takes place in the title city, but its there in all its glory.

Paris Paramount is where the world’s most beautiful and sophisticated people wear the latest fashions, drink and say witty things to each other. No one talks politics, there’s no war, and there’s no poverty or unemployment. Of course there’s no unemployment – someone has to keep those massive Art Deco apartments and nightclubs gleaming.

In “I Met Him in Paris” Claudette Colbert plays Kay Harding, a fashion buyer for a New York apartment store who has been saving for four years for a Paris vacation. She has an OK time, but misses the companionship of someone who speaks English. One night in a bar she meets two Americans, George Potter (Melvyn Douglas) and Gene Anders (Robert Young.) Soon the two men are vying for her affections and the three of them decide to vacation together in Switzerland. Separate rooms in the hotel of course.

While “I Met Him in Paris” is a fine title, a more accurate title would be “I Vacationed with Two Men in Switzerland.” However, that would have never made it past the Hays Office.

Paramount Switzerland is every bit as wonderful as Paramount Paris. Even the outdoor bar is staffed by a waiter wearing a tuxedo. In one of my favorite scenes, Douglas and Colbert are skating together at the outdoors skating rink and she says she hasn’t had breakfast yet. Douglas calls for a waiter and the tuxedo-clad waiter skates up to them and takes their order for coffee and orange juice. I don’t even like winter sports, but I want to stay at that resort.

The film itself is most agreeable concoction. There’s little doubt who’s going to wind up with the fair Claudette in the end, especially when Gene’s wife (Mona Barrie) shows up. Oh, there’s a third suitor (Lee Bowman, as ineffectual as ever) but he’s such a mope there’s never a question that she and Melvyn Douglas will wind up together.

The more I see Melvyn Douglas in these light comedy roles, the more I appreciate him. He did a million of them and I think it’s because he never overshadows his leading ladies. Whether he’s playing against Irene Dunne, Rosalind Russell, Joan Blondell, Joan Crawford, Claudette Colbert and, of course, Greta Garbo, he never takes the limelight away from them. Bette Davis liked playing with George Brent for the same reason.

But Douglas is a better actor than Brent, with a twinkle in his eye and the slight twitch of a smile as he teases his leading ladies. He appreciates them as the great ladies they are but can’t resist bringing them down a peg.

There’s a surprising amount of slapstick comedy on hand here as the three engage in all manners of winter sports. My favorite scenes involve novice skier Robert Young constantly being overtaken by a group of skiers who can’t resist yodeling as they ski down a hill. The more they yodel, the more annoyed Young becomes. (Can’t blame him there).

Another amusing sequence has the three on a bobsled. Well, really two, because Young, the brakeman, has fallen off the back as they’re pushing off. And then Douglas and Colbert start going really fast. She falls off, and can’t scramble up the ice-crusted bobsled run. She’s trapped in the run’s narrow confines and off in the distance she can hear another bobsled barreling towards her. It’s comedy as suspense, and it’s probably the best bobsled sequence until 007 raced after Blofeld in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” (1969).

There seems to some dispute as to where these outdoor scenes were filmed. IMDB says Sun Valley, Idaho, but the DVD says Lake Placid, New York, site of the 1932 Olympics. Regardless of which one it was, it's a fine substitute for Switzerland, with able assistance from the always reliable Paramount set decorators.

“I Met Him in Paris” is an agreeable concoction. Not the most memorable comedy of the era, but a most enjoyable one. It’s fun seeing the trio of stars take some well-executed pratfalls in the snow, and it’s the type of movie one happily watches with a smile on one’s face, and one that lingers pleasantly in the memory. Good show.

Without Reservations

Produced by RKO, “Without Reservations” (1946) is a modestly amusing comedy, passable entertainment and a pleasant time waster. I didn’t regret watching it, but it’s one I won’t be returning to anytime soon. The director is Mervyn LeRoy, hardly known for his light touch, so that doesn’t help matters either. The movie might – just might - have worked with a more age appropriate leading lady.

In this case, said lady is Claudette Colbert, a favorite of mine, but not here. She’s too matronly and experienced for the role. Lest I be accused of ageism, I just don’t think Colbert fits the role here of a hugely successful author who has a somewhat naïve view of the world and the way adults interact with each other.

Colbert plays Christopher “Kit” Madden, author of "Here is Tomorrow", a massive best seller seemingly being read by the entire population. I’m not sure what it’s about, but it appears to be a love story with heavy philosophic overtones set during World War II. Madden is on her way to Hollywood to supervise the casting of the movie version (has this EVER happened in Hollywood?) and looks to have Cary Grant and Lana Turner signed for the lead roles. Grant backs out, and the picture needs a new leading man.


Madden thinks an unknown should play the male lead (shades of the search for Scarlett O’Hara) and finds the personification of her male character in the form of Rusty Thomas (John Wayne), a Marine on leave. Rusty and his Marine buddy Dink (Don DeFore) are on the same cross country train as Kit. She’s incognito, a wise choice since Rusty makes contemptuous comments on “Here is Tomorrow” which he read while convalescing at a hospital.

Rusty thinks the characters in the book spend too much time pontificating and talking. When she tries to defend the characters, a bemused Rusty says, “He’s a man, right? And she’s a woman?” He then puts his hands in the air, as if to say, “What else needs to be explained?”

After telling the studio she has the perfect guy to play the lead, she is told by the studio not to lose him. Traveling cross country by train and automobile,, the trio have many adventures and some romantic complications before all is set right back in Hollywood.

There are a few amusing cameos on hand, including Jack Benny, Dolores Moran, Louella Parsons and yes, Cary Grant. I’ve always thought it a shame that Grant and Colbert never made a movie together, especially since they were both under contract to Paramount in the early 1930s. So it’s a real treat to see them share screen time together here, even if it is for only 10 or 15 seconds. Alas, this would be their only screen appearance together.

The film is also an interesting addition in Wayne’s career. He had some of his most interesting roles in RKO films, though not always in good films. But just look at some of the films he made under the RKO logo: the very good colonial American adventure “Alleghany Uprising” (1939); the charming romantic comedy “A Lady Takes A Chance” (1943) with Jean Arthur; the exceptional mystery western “Tall in the Saddle” (1944); and playing a wife-neglecting, egotistical engineer in “Tycoon” (1947). He had a good role in the World War II drama “Flying Leathernecks” (1951), directed by Nicholas Ray, of all people.

Also released by RKO were two of his very best films, two entries in John Ford’s cavalry trilogy, “Fort Apache” (1948) and the sublime “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.” (1949).

Of course RKO was also where he made his most notorious film “The Conqueror” (1956), with Wayne as Genghis Khan. (At least the Victor Young score for it is good).

“Without Reservations” is likely the least of these RKO offerings, but it does afford Wayne the rare opportunity to star in a light romantic comedy. He’s good too, not too surprising to those of us who have seen Wayne do comedy scenes in other movies. It’s an interesting role in his career, if one of his least physical.

But Claudette seems too worldly for the role. I never bought her as a woman who philosophizes relationships the way her character does here. While not a big enough star at the time to topline a movie, I’m thinking someone like RKO contract player Barbara Hale would have been more appropriate – young enough to genuinely believe what she writes about and one who takes a wide-eyed and impressionable view of the world.

As an added bonus, there is a nice performance by one of my favorite 1940s starlets, Dona Drake. She’s very amusing as a fiery Mexican girl who takes a shine to Rusty after the trio stops at her family’s farm.

Not so appealing is Anne Triola, as Consuela “Connie” Callaghan, an annoying and painfully unfunny train passenger. I wasn’t familiar with her at all, and based on her performance here, I won’t be seeking out other performances by her anytime soon. According to IMDB she only has five films to her credit, so I won’t be missing out on much.

Maid of Salem

Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray were a very popular screen team in Hollywood’s Golden Era. They’re not as remembered as other classic screen teams, mainly because their films have not been so readily available. Almost all their films were made at Paramount, which of all the major studios, is least represented on DVD and video, and television showings were even rarer (unless its a DeMille, Preston Sturges, Marx Bros. or W.C. Fields title). You always had to hunt for Paramount oldies.

I can remember a short period in the 1970s when Channel 44, a UHF station in Chicago, showed sub par prints of movies like Alan Ladd in “Beyond Glory” (1948) and “Chicago Deadline” (1949), and yes, Colbert and MacMurray in “The Gilded Lily” (1935). They were screened once or twice before retreating into the vaults, never to be seen again. Even with the advent of home video and cable TV, many of these titles remain elusive.

Colbert and MacMurray appeared in seven movies together between 1935 and 1949. All are in the comedy or romantic comedy genre save for one, “Maid of Salem” (1937) a highly fictionalized, though engrossing, look at the Salem witch trials.

Every stern-faced extra in Hollywood was called on to portray Salem’s villagers, self-righteous Puritans who see satanic activity in every act of kindness or every smile. When Colbert’s character enjoys a nighttime rendezvous with a man in a dark cloak, the spying villagers automatically assume its Satan himself, roaming the countryside at night and trying to corrupt every God-fearing creature in sight. (Note: it’s really secret sweetheart Fred MacMurray).

No individuality is allowed in dour Salem. Colbert is called out at Sunday services for daring to wear a colorful, frilly bonnet. Director Frank Lloyd creates some interesting lighting effect here, with Colbert ablaze with light amid her fellow Puritans. In that church scene, she’s lit like Mary in “The Song of Bernadette” (1943).

“Maid of Salem” is best appreciated for its wonderful Who’s Who roster of character actors. We enjoy ripe performances by the likes of Gale Sondergaard (an ideal, repressed Puritan), Edward Ellis, Beulah Bondi, Donald Meek, E.E. Clive, Halliwell Hobbes and Russell Simpson. Sorely missed is Charles Middleton, who was born to play a stern-visaged Puritan. I wonder why he isn’t here. We also get future Bowery Boy Bennie Bartlett, Virginia Weidler and Bonita Granville.

One of the most underrated performances from that era is Bonita Granville in “These Three” (1936), as a truly horrendous brat whose hateful gossip causes irreparable harm to three people. So good was she that she pretty much repeated the same performance a year later in “Maid of Salem” as one of the young Salem girls who fake attacks of possession and other maladies to draw attention to themselves (and to stave off boredom, no doubt).

I like both Colbert and MacMurray but they’re actually the least effective part of the movie. While both had played period before, here they seem too modern, though Colbert does make the loveliest Puritan, even when facing hanging as a witch. MacMurray overacts throughout, something long time viewers of “My Three Sons” would find unimaginable.

The film’s best performance is by Madame Sul-Te-Wan as the slave Tituba, who thinks her fortune telling activities are harmless until witch hysteria sweeps Salem. She has an unforgettable scene where she can see where her interrogation is headed, starts panicking and, wild-eyed, begins naming every name she can think of.

Director Frank Lloyd is somewhat forgotten today. I wonder if there’s some resentment at his winning the Best Director Oscar in 1933 for “Cavalcade”, a Best Picture winner that is considered one of Oscar’s most ignoble. Lack of availability of much of his work doesn’t help, though his work on the magnificent sea epic “Mutiny on the Bounty” (1935) should always be treasured.

Also worth mentioning is the production design of the film, with its recreation of Salem. Hans Drier, Paramount’s ace designer, provided a wonderful village setting. It must have cost Paramount a pretty penny, as they probably thought not much use would be gotten out of it after filming was over. Movies about colonial America rarely fared well, so Hollywood was loath to make them.

“Maid of Salem” remains a worthy effort, especially considering it was produced under the watchful eye of the Hays Office. According to the Production Code, religion and religious figures should not be portrayed in a negative light. Well that’s out the window with this film, as it suggests that the repression of the Puritans and their church-based society was largely responsible for the doings at Salem.

Postscript: Speak of the devil. Just hours after I posted this, I read that the new DVD collection under the TCM Vault Series will be titled Colbert & MacMurray Romance Collection. Due on November 15, the collection will include the aforementioned "The Gilded Lily" (1935), "The Bride Comes Home" (1935) and "Family Honeymoon" (1949).

The Palm Beach Story

“The Palm Beach Story” (1942) is another delightful piece of cinema courtesy of the great writer/director Preston Sturges. Eccentricity is the norm here, and the film boasts so many delightful sequences, actors and quotable lines that I barely know where to begin. (Word of caution: I’ll be using the word eccentric a lot in this review.)

Geraldine Jeffers (Claudette Colbert) is love with her inventor husband Tom (Joel McCrea), but he cant’ find financing for his inventions, they are behind in their rent, and she yearns for the finer things in life. Showing up to look at their apartment is a bizarre little man with a big hat and a walking stick who calls himself The Wienie King (Robert Dudley, pictured), an eccentric millionaire who takes a great liking to Geraldine and pays off their back rent and gives her some money to get them back on their feet.

Tom is suspicious of their unforeseen windfall and fights with Geraldine. Even though they are still very much in love, they decide to divorce. Geraldine takes off for Palm Beach by train where she is made mascot of a group of eccentric men called the Ale and Quail Club, who think nothing of using their private railroad car as target practice. Ale and Quail Club members include many familiar faces including William Demarest, Jack Norton, Robert Greig, Roscoe Ates, Dewey Robinson and Chester Conklin (contemporary audiences know him as the old-time fire chief who refuses to give up his horse-drawn fire wagons in the Three Stooges short “Flat Foot Stooges” (1938).

Escaping the insanity of the Ale and Quail Club, she meets John D. Hackensacker III (Rudy Vallee), one of the world’s richest men, when she breaks his glasses (twice) after stepping on his face to climb into an upper berth of the railroad car.

Vallee is hilarious as Hackensacker and it ushered in a whole new career for him after his popularity waned from strong popularity in the early 1930s. (He initiated the singing into the megaphone gimmick). Seemingly oblivious to the insanity around him, he takes Geraldine to Palm Beach where he introduces her to his sister, the five-times divorced Princess Centimillia (Mary Astor) and her latest conquest Toto (Sig Arno), who doesn’t speak a word of English.

Even though Geraldine is seeking a divorce, she still believes in Tom and his inventions and seeks to have Hackensacker loan her $99,000 for his inventions.

In the meantime, Tom has met the Wienie King who convinces him he is still in love with his wife and gives him the funds to fly down to Palm Beach and bring her back. He meets her in Palm Beach while she is with Hackensacker and Centimillia, and shocked to see him, introduces him to them as her brother. Of course Centimillia is smitten with Tom and more complications until the most satisfying, and clever wrap-up.

“The Palm Beach Story” is one of the great pieces of screwball comedy. The opening sequence, which I won’t go into, is very clever, and the Wienie King is a classic character. The Ale and Quail Club sequence is comedy gold.

For me, the one drawback is McCrea. I like McCrea in westerns and even in other dramas, but here he’s Mr. Glum and Gloomy to the point where I never understood what Geraldine saw in Tom. McCrea and Sturges had enjoyed a big success a year earlier with “Sullivan’s Travels” and Sturges liked to work with people he liked, but I’ve always felt McCrea was miscast here.

I can see why he was hired, as both he and Colbert are the models of normalcy while all the insanity ranges about him, but he’s too grouchy. Perhaps Fred MacMurray would have been a better choice here.

“The Palm Beach Story” would normally rate four stars, but because of McCrea’s portrayal, it only gets a still more than respectable three and a half stars.