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Why so much hype?

People are voting emotionally.

As somebody who had not heard any of this before, it became a curious phenomenon to sit and watch a film and slowly have the realities begin to click into place.

This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a very long time. You have to go and see this on the big screen.

There is little to add to the praise this classic film has already received from professional and amateur critics and viewers. It is an object lesson in the art of filmmaking, cleverly conceived and plotted, gorgeously photographed, well acted by a colorful cast, constantly fresh and joyous, inventive and artful. The dialogue is brilliant, especially when it blossoms with playful double entendres. The mise-en-scene is filled with the engaging formalities so beloved by its director Ernst Lubitsch, and visual cues giving wordless information about plot and character. The contrast between the females, Miriam Hopkins and Claudette Colbert, is deftly arranged. Though Chevalier has charm to burn, his thick French accent does occasionally blunt the effect of the dialogue. But his light comedy skills are otherwise formidable and in conjunction with Lubitsch's staging and framing add up to cinematic magic. Colbert equals and even surpasses him with her own skill and charm. She gives particular oomph to her songs, acting them fully. Hopkins can be a grating performer but here tones it down. Her piano playing is impressive, whether it's real or not.

I am grateful for Lubitsch. I always am when I watch a good film, but the feeling is somehow of a different magnitude when the encounter suggests a consistently bright and sensitive soul. He must have been having a blast composing these things, sculpting the contours of little jokes, rubbing as frivolously as he could against the edges of sexual protocol. Much has been made of his Touch, though it seems an elusive thing: reading up on various critics' proposed theories of it, you couldn't get two to agree—even his collaborator Billy Wilder, when interviewed about it, seems a bit mystified. I have my own notion that I'm working on, but hashing that out is in the future.Yes, you will have a great time with this, quite possibly the raunchier of all the precode musicals I have been visiting as of late. The farce is about finding a million small ways to suggest sex, some of them bawdy, usually elegant—breakfast as sex talk, a bugle's rousing ra-tat-tat as arousal, 'Jazz up your Lingerie', and the baffling scene that closes this, where the virginal princess, instructed on seduction by her sexual rival, transforms into a wild flapper—smoking, banging a jazz tune at the piano—to get the capricious lothario she lusts after into bed, all this amounting more or less to the happy end of a successful romance.One more thing. The engine that drives this cinematic world into motion, I'm sure most viewers would not think twice of it, but I'm in the habit of noting interesting cases. In this case, I believe (though it is too early to tell) it exemplifies on the deepest level the whole cosmology of Lubitsch.On a first level, it is simple enough; a misunderstood smile.As the misunderstanding is the most commonplace trope, this isn't particularly useful or revealing. This is what happens a little later though. The dashing lieutenant is instructed—as per the emperor's wishes —not to propose, not even speak to the smitten princess. This is presented by the adjutant who makes the case not as a cut-and- dry decision, but as the product of much political deliberation and digress, itself an impish joke on imperial etiquette. So far so good. In the following scene, however, he receives a congratulatory phonecall on his marriage. And in yet the next scene, he is officially congratulated in person by the emperor, the same one who forbade him to propose.Yes, we can reason that somewhere along the line, for whatever reasons, the decision was reverted, that is beside the point. The point is that lesser filmmakers would explain. And yet it makes sense seemingly illogical as we have it.So how about this for a blueprint? Improvisation and whimsical digress, and in the quantum level of narrative, you have spontaneous uncertainty, which is the most universal of attributes. And in the world of the film, this is going to have far-reaching imports, like deciding the course of empires.Something to meditate upon.

In old Vienna, lieutenant playboy Maurice Chevalier (as Nikolaus "Niki" von Preyn) woos cute violinist Claudette Colbert (as Franzi) into an affair. The lovers are deliriously happy, but not for long. When Mr. Chevalier makes flirty love-muffin faces at Ms. Colbert during a parade, relatively plain Miriam Hopkins (as Princess Anna) rides by in her carriage and catches him winking at her highness. Royal father George Barbier (as King Adolf XV) expects Chevalier to atone for the affront by taking Ms. Hopkins' hand in marriage...This high-brow comedy-musical is very nicely produced and directed by Ernst Lubitsch. It placed third in the annual "New York Times" list and was one of eight 1931 pictures noticed by the folks giving out "Academy Awards" for excellence. The story starts out naughty but ends up nice. Hugh O'Connell (as Niki's orderly) and Charles Ruggles (as Max) lend funny supporting performances. The musical highlight is "Jazz up Your Lingerie" as sung by Colbert and Hopkins; after all these years, that's still good advice.****** The Smiling Lieutenant (7/10/31) Ernst Lubitsch ~ Maurice Chevalier, Claudette Colbert, Miriam Hopkins, George Barbier

"Shall I see you again?" asks Lieutenant Niki von Preyn (Maurice Chevalier). "Oh, I hope so," says Franzi (Claudette Colbert), the luscious and liberated young violinist and leader of an all-girl orchestra in Vienna. Niki met her an hour or so ago at an outdoor biergarten. "When?" "Well, perhaps tomorrow night. We could have dinner together," she says "Ohhh…don't make me wait 24 hours. I'm so hungry!" "Well then…perhaps we could have tea…tomorrow afternoon." "Why not breakfast…tomorrow morning?" Niki suggests with a smile. "No, no. First tea…then dinner…then…maybe…breakfast." The scene fades out with a kiss…and the next scene opens with a shot the next morning of two eggs being fried.It is apparent that Franzi and Niki are delighted with each other. But then Niki, called to duty as the captain of the guard while the King and Princess Anna (Miriam Hopkins) of Flausenthurm are welcomed into Vienna with a grand procession, smiles and winks at Franzi from across the cobblestone street…just as the king and princess pass by in their open coach. Wouldn't you know it, Princess Anna thinks Niki had the temerity to flirt with her. She's outraged. The king says Niki must be punished. But when they meet, Niki's charm does the trick. Except now Princess Anna, who only knows of life and love from an encyclopedia where all the good parts were removed, is determined to marry him…and believes Niki loves her. When she threatens to marry an American if she doesn't get her way, her father, the king, decides he must agree. His little Anna is in love. Duty, honor and the Emperor dictate that Niki must marry the princess. But with the marriage, where does that leave Franzi? And after the marriage, for that matter, where does that leave Niki?Well, if anyone could make a light-as-air, amusing and naughty operetta about joyous sex and then performance resistance, which includes viewing a variety of inviting-looking beds, Ernst Lubitsch is just the director. There's a slightly bittersweet but essentially happy ending, of course, even if Niki stays married. "Girls who start with breakfast usually don't stay for supper. Take care of our Niki," says Franzi to Anna…but only after advising the princess in song about the secrets of keeping a man happy and active...namely, to jazz up your lingerie. Chevalier and Colbert do expert jobs to keep this plot moving so quickly and charmingly that we don't have time to think too much about it. For me, however, Miriam Hopkins just about steals the movie. She's innocent and sly, spoiled and naive and somehow is able to be all these at the same time. We know what we're getting with Chevalier and Colbert. We delight in it. Hopkins, however, surprises us and makes us laugh every time she appears. Her line delivery is a work of art. Hopkins had an unsatisfactory career in Hollywood, and it's our loss. Enjoy her skill and style in Trouble in Paradise and Design for Living, both directed by Lubitsch. They were at the top of their game, both of them, and that's saying a lot.