El destino turístico “Cayos de Villa Clara” como objeto de estudio.

Any overview of the 1920s and Lubitsch’s arrival in Hollywood would not be complete without acknowledging the negotiation of Lubitsch’s style in public

139 _{Lea Jacobs. “Introduction: Before Screwball.” Film History 13.4 (2001), p. 335.}

140 _{See Ben Brewster. “The Circle: Ernst Lubitsch and the Theatrical Farce Tradition.” Film History} 13.4 (2001), p. 372-389 and Kristin Thompson. “Lubitsch, Acting and the Silent Romantic Comedy.”

discourse. In this final section, I will introduce a third term alongside ‘German’ and ‘sophistication’ – that of the ‘touch,’ or in fact the ‘Lubitsch touch.’141

The preceding sections of this chapter on the 1920s illustrated how Lubitsch arrived in an America deeply sceptic of émigrés, especially from Germany. The close association of the sophisticated comedy with Continental and European attributes allowed Lubitsch to be discussed in contexts other than his origins, given that what critics expected from German filmmakers did not fit with what they found in Lubitsch. The label ‘European’ hence comes with more positive associations, although it can be just as unstable, as the review of Die Flamme above suggests. While the previous sections of this chapter explained how Lubitsch could integrate seamlessly into American film culture, the final section of this chapter explores the emergence of the ‘Lubitsch touch’ as a narrative of distinction that would come into full force in the 1930s and 1940s, even if its roots were already in the 1920s.

Building up Lubitsch as a brand allowed the critics and advertisers of the day to come to terms with contravening or oppositional discourses, especially those around German émigré filmmaking, even if the emerging discourse of Continental sophistication could not entirely do away with the latter. One singular addition to this brand was the emergence of a term that has since become established in both popular and critical discourses on Lubitsch. To show how this discursive phenomenon was prepared throughout the 1920s, I will look at how specifically Lubitsch is represented and discussed in the public discourse, with a particular focus on both his persona and profile as a director. I will thus approach this negotiation in several stages, first looking at how Lubitsch as a private individual is discussed in

141 _{Modes of orthography vary in terms of presenting the Lubitsch touch, the ‘Lubitsch touch’ or the} Lubitsch Touch. However, the point of this term is that it is indeed a term, one not unlike a technical term, or a term with a capital ‘T’ so to speak. We will continue using what we have found to be the most common way of spelling the term, the ‘Lubitsch touch.’

news stories relating to him, before moving on to a professional focus on Lubitsch as a director. Lubitsch had always been interested in matters relating to his industry and his art, participating from early days in spirited discussions about the German and American film industries and his own work methods, as well as those of others. These discursive texts helped to create the persona of an engaged director – even an emerging film artist or auteur positioned between two film worlds – but one who was in the process of assimilating successfully to his new home in Hollywood. In a final stage I trace the very term of the ‘Lubitsch touch’ in the early 1920s and how it eventually became a fixture of Lubitsch-related texts over the course of the decade.

In the 1920s, Lubitsch had already found himself discussed not only in reviews of his films, but in news items or gossip, interviews and portraits. Longer portraits and interviews often included the set-up of meeting for the interview with a description of the director’s appearance, being “a small man physically, slightly given to promising plumpness,” but whose “dark eyes are keen and smiling.”142 Mention of his “restricted and hesitating”143 English or phonetic transcriptions of his accent recurred again and again. However, at other times, Lubitsch was praised for having “met the test [of answering rapid-fire questions shot at him, through an interpreter] with rapid-fire replies, delivered without hesitation and with authority.”144 Although these asides may occur in connection with other directors, they remain crucial in laying the groundwork for establishing Lubitsch as a distinctive brand. This is a crucial inclusion as it brings the director from behind the camera into the focus of the portrait. The figure in the blind spot of the camera is therefore made visible and so recognisable to both reader and audience.

142 _{Anon. “Lubitsch on Directing.” New York Times (16 December 1923), p. X5.} 143 _Ibid.

144

Sumner Smith. “Ernst Lubitsch Describes Novel Method of Preparing a Picture for Production.”

The reports and news items vary depending on the focus of the publication.

Variety or Moving Picture World may stick to reporting on Lubitsch as the director

in context of work-related events, while more personal anecdotes may find their way into fan magazines like Photoplay. In October 1925, for instance, Variety reported on a Lubitsch luncheon in honour of the director. It was noted that the guest list unsurprisingly included Lubitsch’s wife, but otherwise kept strictly to a guest list of Lubitsch’s work colleagues and peers from the “infant industry,” some of whom gave speeches.145 In Photoplay, Lubitsch’s family life, or at least his marriage and Mrs. Lubitsch featured quite frequently in anecdotes about the director. This article included a tale about how Lubitsch ran off from the set of The Marriage Circle, which he was currently “busily directing,” in order to replace the “sickly looking rose bush” to be used in the next scene with a “very beautiful”146 specimen taken out of his own garden. It is easy to see how disparate the nature of these events is and how differently they are reported. Nevertheless, they are all parts making up the mosaic of the Lubitsch persona.

However, the impact of these stories extends to adding another layer to the films with which Lubitsch is associated; indeed, the films form a subtext to such articles. I have selected a news item from Photoplay as these are easily the most colourful and amusing pieces. Drier news stories from other publications would work just as well, but Photoplay will convey my point most clearly. This time, the “great foreign director [with his] charming home and one of the prettiest wives in Hollywood” threw a party. A friendly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Brown, were

145 _{See Anon. “Lubitsch Luncheon Noted for Absence of All ‘I’s’” Variety 80.10 (21 October 1925),} p. 30.

146 _{Cal York. “Gossip: East and West.” Photoplay 15.2 (January 1924), p. 131. The payoff of the} story is that “an hour or so later, when Mrs. Ernst strolled forth to work in her garden, she found a dark and empty spot where her favorite bush had been wont to bloom” and Photoplay asks its readers to “take it from Mrs. Ernst!” just what “a worker and a seeker after realism” Ernst Lubitsch actually is.

in attendance. After a while Lubitsch remarked to Mrs. Brown that he did not see his wife and Mrs. Brown’s husband. Mrs. Brown replied “brightly, ‘Oh, they’ve gone outside to look at the dogs.’” The author noted that upon recognition that Mr. Brown and Mrs. Lubitsch were late in returning, “when there was one of those silences in the room.” It was for Lubitsch, certainly to rather great effect, then to remark: “But, Mrs. Brown, we haven’t any dogs.”147

This anecdote is entirely located in the personal discourse surrounding Lubitsch and does not at all introduce him as a director. The reader’s interest in and knowledge of Lubitsch’s films would certainly add to the anecdote’s punch and in helping to produce a more fleshed-out persona of the director. The clear implication is that Mrs. Ernst Lubitsch has gone off with Mr. Clarence Brown for a private rendezvous. Lubitsch’s dry reply, exposing the cover story for what it is, fits the humour displayed in his films. The story could have well be a scene from the cinema of Lubitsch, who is after all the master of “humorous tale[s] of domestic entanglements”148 and even “daring dramas of domestic dissention”149 or, to make use of a different term, the sophisticated comedy as the genre of films with which he becomes so closely associated.

Amidst all the ambiguities marking the discourse of sophistication, discussed in the previous section, the subject matter of Lubitsch’s films is fairly clear-cut and straightforward. Yet, the close association of Lubitsch with these films adds another layer to these anecdotes. If life does not imitate art or art life, the two still appear closely intertwined, thereby strengthening once more the perception of the bond between the director and his work. These stories, seemingly immaterial, hence

147 _{Cal York. “Studio News and Gossip: East and West.” Photoplay 29.4 (September 1924), p. 46.} 148 _{Whitney Williams. “Lubitsch’s Latest is Gay, Sophisticated, Parisian Farce: Director’s Deft} ‘Touches’ Make So This is Paris! Humours Tale of Domestic Entanglements.” Los Angeles Times (20 June 1926), p. D23.

reflect back upon and so contribute to Lubitsch’s persona, and Lubitsch’s portrait in the media would not be complete without them.

However, other reports focused more on the director’s work, methods and common themes and techniques employed in his films. These can be found mainly but not exclusively in the more ‘serious’ publications such as Variety, Moving

Picture World or the New York Times. One mechanism deployed to underline the

significance of the director in the filmmaking process is particularly characteristic for the film discourse created in the Times. Richard Koszarski has been critical of the paper’s engagement with early film criticism.150 Yet, this approach did not apply to the film director, or at least not to this particular film director.

Although the Times never gave an exclusive treatment of Lubitsch, its reviews of Lubitsch films tended to be followed up with another article devoted to the film in question a few days later. At times, both these texts were strikingly similar in terms of their line of argument, the examples cited and even the phrasing. Although the review would be published first and would already focus on Lubitsch and his contribution to a film, the second text tended to be specifically about the director, his work methods or the stylistic devices displayed in the film at hand.

Take for instance the case of Three Women (1924). The review that was published in the Times of 6 October 1924 already focused substantially on the director. His “third pictorial effort,” Three Women was perceived to have shortcomings. Still, the film “reveals Lubitsch as a talented stylist in direction, a producer who makes the most of every detail and whose work scintillates with original ideas.” This was due to “Mr. Lubitsch’s able direction [which] has caused the actions and expressions of the players to be readily understood, thus rendering subtitles unnecessary for long stretches.” Indeed, it was “the sparing manner in

which subtitles are employed” that was particularly highlighted, as was the use of close-ups, notably how the detailed display of diamonds and pearls cleverly show how the villain of the piece calculates the riches of their female owners.151

The following week, the Times returned with a fairly long article on Lubitsch’s latest offering. The writer, Hall, was now unrestricted by his usual review column “The Screen” and could give the article a header of his own preference. This title then referenced Lubitsch rather than a detail from the film: “Mr. Lubitsch’s Direction Outshines his Narrative.” Therefore, this article again focused on Lubitsch’s successful, in fact, “brilliant,” direction. The argument of the second article ran along similar lines: the use of subtitles – indeed, “Lubitsch us[ing] 42 subtitles” – was commented upon extensively, along with the simplicity “in which Mr. Lubitsch opens up this latest effort,” and detailed descriptions of certain scenes. This review culminated in a final evaluation that “[a]pparently Mr. Lubitsch does not favour lengthy court scenes, as he disposes of this murder trial with more speed then Jersey justice. The jury comes in with the verdict and the foreman, when addressing the Judge, shakes his head, thus saving Mr. Lubitsch a subtitle.”152

The second article did not add new material or insights; in fact, Lubitsch was not necessarily mentioned any more frequently. What sets the two pieces apart, however, is that Hall decides to cut the extensive description of the story which, according to the initial review, is “weak in comparison” to the “direction” that makes the film “a work of art.”153 Hence, no longer restrained by his “Screen” column, Hall can focus on the aspects of the film in which he is interested; pointedly, these are predominately related to Lubitsch. Although the Times’ earlier

151

See Mordaunt Hall. “The Screen: A Calculating Villain,” Review of Three Women. New York

Times (6 October 1925), p. 25.

152 _{Mordaunt Hall. “Mr. Lubitsch’s Direction Outshines His Narrative.” New York Times (12 October} 1924), p. X5.

153

Mordaunt Hall. “The Screen: A Calculating Villain,” Review of Three Women. New York Times (6 October 1925), p. 25.

review had focused on praising Lubitsch, the space of the second text gives the

Times’ Mordaunt Hall the opportunity to put the director at the very centre of the

argument. The Times therefore presents a strategy of how to add to the discourse of the director otherwise principally composed by portraits or interviews.

Beyond the actual film reviews, the papers’ interest in Lubitsch’s work methods remained just as detailed. In the conversations recorded in these portraits, the journalists found Lubitsch’s approach to the screenplay, his direction of his actors and his (non-)use of intertitles particularly intriguing. Lubitsch’s relationship to his actors was an aspect of his work to which the public discourse returns in virtually every decade of Lubitsch’s career; it was even emphasised prominently in the obituaries which followed his death in 1947. Hence, I will examine the negotiation of acting in Lubitsch below in a section on perceptions of Lubitsch’s work with Maurice Chevalier. Here, I will focus on the discussion of intertitles. This negotiation is significant on several levels: firstly, they are essential to the silent film as one way of conveying dialogue and meaning; secondly, they also mark out the silent film for its lack of a sound track; and finally, intertitles are a prime site for negotiating Lubitsch’s transition from being a German filmmaker to a Hollywood director.

Before his move to America, German reviewers had already commented on the extensive use of intertitles in Lubitsch’s films: in fact, the early German critics frequently credited them as the main achievement of several Lubitsch films, as we saw in the prologue. This emphasis could be explained by critics wishing to present a clear example of a writer at work for eyes not quite accustomed to screenwriting, as we had seen in the prologue. However, American critics were fascinated precisely with Lubitsch’s increasingly minimal use of intertitles. As early as April 1921, the

subtitles, and they do not [even] need as many as they have.”154 The Hall review of

Three Women quoted above also took a similar line.

The views of critics on both sides of the Atlantic differed so significantly as to imply a difference in national cinemas. In the American reviews, Lubitsch’s style was not linked to his German background. Instead, the critics praised Lubitsch for adhering to certain standards with which they were already familiar in the American system. David Bordwell has put forward the notion of an “invisible”155 Hollywood style in his seminal study on Hollywood cinema, written together with Janet Staiger and Kristin Thompson. In the later parts of their book, Thompson suggests that “the formulation of the classical mode began quite early, in the period around 1909–11, and by 1917, the system was complete in its basic narrative and stylistic premises.”156 The reduction of intertitles to a minimum in each film then at the least supports such a style of narration. The reduction of intertitles to a minimum would at least support such a style of narration and Hall’s interestingly detailed explanation of how the shot of a head-shaking judge saves Lubitsch an intertitle could easily be taken for an example of what Bordwell calls Lubitsch’s “concealed artistry.”157

In her monograph Herr Lubitsch Goes to Hollywood, Kristin Thompson argues that Lubitsch’s genius lies precisely in his quick assimilation to American modes of filmmaking. Lubitsch was eager to settle in America and critics welcomed his addition, enquiring enthusiastically of his work methods and evaluating them accordingly: “Once in America, [Lubitsch] rapidly honed his application of classical [Hollywood] principles, and soon he was in turn influencing the filmmakers there

154 _{Anon. “The Screen,” Review of Anna Boleyn. New York Times (18 April 1921), p. 17.}

155 _{David Bordwell. “The Classical Hollywood Style, 1917–60.” David Bordwell, Janet Staiger and} Kristin Thompson. The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style & Mode of Production to 1960. London: Routledge, 1988. p. 23.

156 _{Kristin Thompson. “The Formulation of the Classical Style, 1909–28.” David Bordwell, Janet} Staiger and Kristin Thompson. The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style & Mode of Production

to 1960. London: Routledge, 1988. p. 246.

with a string of masterpieces.”158 In fact, the reason why Lubitsch adapted to the American system so quickly and successfully was that he had been imitating American work methods while still working in Germany.159 Along similar lines David Pratt suggests that

it is precisely because [Lubitsch’s films] failed to stand out as sharply from American films that they ultimately failed to stand for either “German” films or European “art” films. This lack of distinctiveness relative to the norms of American production would be one of the reasons Lubitsch so easily became not just a Hollywood filmmaker, but for a time the most honored of Hollywood filmmakers.160

As previous sections of this study have demonstrated, such a process of assimilation was indeed supported not only by Lubitsch’s lack of fit with the traditional ‘Germans’ of the film critics, but his association with a genre newly emerged from