a vision of paradise with a touch so light ...

    Trouble in Paradise; Paramount Pictures, 1932. Directed by Ernst Lubitsch; screenplay by Samson Raphaelson; adaptation by Grover Jones; based on A Becsületes Megtaláló (The Honest Finder), 1931 play, by Aladár László; produced by Ernst Lubitsch; cinematography by Victor Milner. Performers: Kay Francis, Miriam Hopkins, Herbert Marshall, Charlie Ruggles, Edward Everett Horton, C. Aubrey Smith, Robert Greig.
    Summary: a gentleman thief and a lady pickpocket join forces to con a beautiful perfume company heiress. Romantic entanglements and jealousies confuse the scheme. 

     Almost incredibly, we're creeping up (five years or so and counting) on the one hundredth anniversary of Ernst Lubitsch's polished jewel of a drawing room comedy/melodrama, Trouble in Paradise. The 'incredibly' part of my introductory sentence refers not to how old the film is, but how modern it is. Even the technology shows little signs of creakiness, delivered as it is with absolute assurance by the great Lubitsch, truly remarkable given the studios were still grappling with the newfangled addition of sound in movies, among other technical challenges. Remember, the film industry had only begun to go full blast for sound movies around 1929. All this is, as the man might say, fine and good, but what is it that's 'modern' about TIP? Actually timeless is just as good a descriptor, and it all lies in the film's attitudes and sensibilities, and, more important, the execution of such qualities, what they called back in the day the famed "Lubitsch Touch," often discussed and sometimes imitated but never equaled. 
     TIP is all the more timely considering the state of the film industry today, in which we're bombarded with the (mostly) bloated, homogenized, mind numbing dreck that Hollywood and Hollywood-like sources routinely churn out. TIP thus sparkles all the more as the transcendent masterpiece it is. Would that we could have such intelligence and (Old World) sophistication in movies these days. Big sigh ... As you can tell, I'm a big of Trouble in Paradise, and it's difficult for me to sing its praises enough. Ergo, a recent re-watch of the Criterion DVD* has inspired me to opine a few superlatives, even if there's already a ton of  postings and reviews of the film.

   Moonlight and champagne ...

    The basic question, for me anyway, is: why can’t they make movies like this anymore? Why not indeed? One reason is they don’t have Herbert Marshall, Miriam Hopkins and especially Kay Francis, and another is that there aren’t many Ernst Lubitsch’s around these days. In any case the story of Trouble in Paradise is basically that of a love triangle: a suave thief (Marshall) and his live-in partner in crime (Hopkins) conspire to fleece a rich perfume heiress (Kay Francis) but things become complicated when said thief falls in love with the mark.

    Eminently up to the task of ingratiating himself with the heiress, Herbert Marshall is suspiciously well informed about ladies’ perfumes, lipstick, rouge & clothes. Haute cuisine too. But he’s so not gay, quite the contrary. Marshall here is at the zenith of his romantic leading man powers,** oozing a silken charm that allows him to talk his way into and out of just about anything; and though Miriam Hopkins is edgy and loud – what you see is what you get – she’s still appealing in her way.

    The film’s central, and most complex character, however, is the gleamingly polished but very human Kay Francis, and it’s been asked, why would Herbert Marshall not choose the shimmering, simmering, goddess-like Francis (and all her money) over the proletarian, if attractive, Hopkins? Well, thieves have to stick together, I guess. It’s as good an answer as any.   

    But what is it that makes Trouble in Paradise such a timeless classic? *** There’s the essential amorality of all the characters and the very timely message: the rich are simple-minded, self indulgent fools, and this includes, to some extent, the more sympathetic Madame Colet (Francis), and if thieves or con artists get the better of them, we don’t really object, we sort of like it actually. This brings to mind the rather hokey scene – a rare misstep in the film’s otherwise pitch perfect tone – where the Trotskyite radical scolds Kay Francis for her extravagant lifestyle in such tough times (it is the Depression, after all). He has a point, but it’s hard to sympathize with him because he’s such a lout himself. It all serves to remind us that nothing is black and white in a Lubitsch film; he gives then takes away and we’re never quite sure where the story’s moral center of gravity lies.

    Moreover, we identify with the thieves’ excitement and intrigue — the seduction and titillation of larceny, if you will. It’s only right then that Marshall’s a thief so cool he can steal a woman’s underwear while she’s wearing it. Which rather segues nicely to the romantic element, never out of style, presented here with such panache and lightness, and yes, a hint of sentiment and real emotion too. There’s also our expectations and wishes : a good part of the appeal of Trouble in Paradise is the will they/won’t they; which will he choose; will they get away with it suspense and uncertainty which isn’t resolved until the final scene, and even then we’re not so sure.

    Indeed, though the emotional, financial and even legal stakes for the main characters are high, it’s all treated with such a deft hand that we simply sit back and enjoy the thrill of the ride and don’t bother ourselves with trifles like consequences. Trouble in Paradise then is ultimately about the process and the journey, the quest, if you like, not the destination. In short, excitement, adventure, love, crime, intrigue and, most of all, living well for its own sake.

   * I refer to the 2002 Criterion DVD, which is pretty darn good technically, but I just found out that there's a very recent (April 2026) 4K UHD & Blu-Ray Criterion re-issue, the quality of which has gotten rave reviews.
   ** Alas, Marshall's romantic leading man status would be all too fleeting: within a few years he drifted into character roles which he played the remainder of his career.  
    *** There are other delights to savor: the incomparable Deco sets, Travis Banton’s otherworldly gowns for Miss Francis, and especially the knowing repartee which is the essence of the film’s all-time classic status. Then there’s the spot-on supporting cast: the imperious C. Aubrey Smith as Giron, Madame Colet’s unscrupulous business advisor; deadpan Robert Greig as Jacques the Butler; and, most memorable of all, Edward Everett Horton and Charlie Ruggles as the two asexual, hopelessly doomed-to-failure suitors to Madame Colet.