This reviewer isn’t normally keen on MGM’s glamorous ‘golden age’ MGM costume pictures, or indeed a lot of their glossy high-toned ’30s output. But they did do their share of terrific work, some of which doesn’t entirely succumb to the prejudices of Depression-Era politics: Mutiny on the Bounty, A Tale of Two Cities. The studio valued Greta Garbo as its most prestigious performer, a legend in her own time, whose work was held up as the pinnacle of screen art. Garbo was amazing, but not all of the pictures MGM concocted for her. 1936’s Camille is a period drama with classical roots. In terms of pure acting it can boast her most accomplished romantic performance.
Can such a traditional show appeal to 2023 audiences? I would hope so, even as I realize that today’s non-film fan young people likely don’t really know who Greta Garbo was, or Cary Grant or maybe even Charlie Chaplin. Therefore we shall just sing the praises of worthy show, and assume that somebody cares somewhere.
There’s no denying that Camille is superior entertainment. Director Cukor worked closely with Ms. Garbo, who was in some ways the best judge of her own work. The result of their collaboration is impressive. Alexandre Dumas fils’ novel La Dame aux camélias comes from 1848; it became a play in 1852 and then the Verdi opera La traviata in 1853. It’s the template for the doomed love that crosses class and moral boundaries. It’s said to have been autobiographical — Dumas loved a courtesan who suffered from consumption (tuberculosis), although the term was apparently often used as a euphemism for syphillis. The book’s title character is conceived as a near-faultless romantic angel.
Marguerite Gautier (Greta Garbo) is a special member of Paris nightlife’s demimonde on the edge of respectability. A coterie of friends and rivals revolves around her adventures. She’s also always deep in debt; instead of hoarding her admirers’ extravant gifts, she’s unusually generous with her friends. Her unstable health may account for this — she isn’t expecting to live a long and prosperous life. Party friend Prudence (Laura Hope Crews) sets her up with a wealthy benefactor, the Baron de Varville (Henry Daniell), but Marguerite mistakenly mistakes young Armand Duval (Robert Taylor) for the Baron. She becomes the kept mistress of de Varville while Armand tries to pursue a romance as well. Her extravant night life takes a serious toll on her health.
Marguerite tries to shield the relatively innocent Armand from her less reputable associates. They spend part of a summer together in the country, hidden from everyone, especially the Baron. The protective Monsieur Duval (Lionel Barrymore) entreats Marguerite to break off her relationship with his son, which she does, returning to her unhealthy lifestyle in Paris. Armand does not realize that she’s looking out for his best interests.
Invested with MGM’s grand production values — gowns to kill for, beautiful interiors augmented by flawless matte paintings, a beautiful musical theme by Herbert Stothart — George Cukor’s Camille is the original, real-deal romantic weepie tragedy. It’s sincere and open-hearted, even if Dumas’ basic story requires poor virtuous Armand to be kept mostly in the dark. Some misunderstandings can’t be avoided, as when Marguerite locks a gate against Armand to protect him from the wrath of the Baron, who has returned unexpectedly.
The Baron / Armand rivalry is actually downplayed — they fight a duel, but it is mostly off screen, with the attention given to Marguerite’s race to try to stop it. Is this an original use of what became a stock scene in stories of this kind, like the film adaptation of Forever Amber?
Circling the Drain in Diamonds and Pearls.
Camille / Garbo’s perfectly realized descent into a glamorous death spiral is 100% classic, possibly the key weepie exemplar of Doomed Romance in Hollywood’s golden era. In other versions Marguerite often perishes alone, forced to settle for bittersweet memories of her fleeting affair with Armand. Once again, the star-crossed lovers don’t get their messages through. Garbo’s Marguerite is almost too weak to summon her great love — just as he gets the idea of breaking his promise and showing up unannounced, like a miracle.
The great Garbo was for the longest time an unassailable Hollywood icon. Her image was never tarnished — she’s the classiest of screen sirens and the most riveting actress of her day. William Daniels’ cinematography worships Garbo, and the gowns in this movie are some of the best ever, but this Marguerite Gautier is a spirited, vibrant woman, not a figure of mystique created by mood lighting. It’s a creation of Garbo’s special personality.
Critic Pauline Kael thought Camille displayed Garbo’s best acting, but the critic was quick to denigrate some of her co-stars, calling Robert Taylor insipid and Lionel Barrymore an annoying ham. We partly agree with the Barrymore opinion, but young Robert Taylor delivers exactly the fresh-faced candor that was needed. Marguerite can love the inexperienced Armand even knowing that she must protect him. That’s the bittersweet angle to the tragedy — the ‘notorious’ woman is actually an open-hearted angel, to her friends and her lovers. She even understands the coldly severe Baron — in one of the liveliest scenes, he plays the piano while they laugh together at the absurdity of everything.
We suppose that a Carol Burnett movie spoof of Camille would generate laughs by stretching Marguerite’s final ‘lingering’ scene out to an absurd length. Cukor, Garbo and cameraman Daniels manage it beautifully, focusing on Garbo’s every gesture. The romantic fantasy is finely judged — the lovers share a privileged moment, without Armand fully aware of what’s happening. The scene goes forward in stages, with just a few coughs and a swoon or two. Forget realism, as the glamour angle rules out Marguerite choking or spitting up blood. Nope, she instead luxuriates in a kind of ‘suffering bliss,’ and a sudden flash of eyes to mark the moment of passing. It’s an idealized romantic death.
Garbo was only three pictures away from retirement, and two pictures away from her most accessible vehicle Ninotchka. That supremely witty political satire proves she could have gone forward as an actress had she wanted to. She surely realized that her studio bosses didn’t really know how to best harness her talents — what foolish MGM executive thought that she’d do well in the vapid screwball comedy Two-Faced Woman?
