chaos-rampant If you have closely followed Sternberg you could tell this moment was coming. All his films since he joined up with Dietrich were powered by a seductive electricity channeled and discharged back and forth between herself and the camera, but always struggled in some measure to hold back to a recognizable world. The Scarlet Empress just before this was only held back by a thin semblance of history, if that, a history that was utterly bent to his fervent adoration to crown Dietrich queen of Hollywood. It was an unhinged, anguished film, mirrored on every misshapen gargoyle figure, every distorted fresco on the walls of the surreal church.But here he finally lets go and is afforded a kind of tranquility, as if he knew he would lose her after this film and would be lost himself. This would be his last film with Dietrich, and perhaps the last time he mattered. The whole film is an effervescent dream this go round, no pretense about it anymore. Oh, it's supposed to be taking place in Spain, but as much as Empress was taking place in Russia. So a world envisioned as a moonlit walk beneath cedars, a walk a little outside the common maps, with every step masked in the smoke from some opium pipe, veiled shaped and long shadows, at the center faintly humming with the emptiness behind illusions. The premise is that it's the traditional time of the carnival, a week long promise of deceptive sex beckoning from behind masks, inside swirling crowds and confetti rains. Dietrich enters the scene on a lavish chariot like already the queen from the previous film, once again every camera on her, every male pair of eyes transfixed on her eyes promising sweet things.But Sternberg is not just waxing here like a lovestruck bird, for once since a long time. We float in restless sleep but need to stay lucid enough to perceive where the dream is floating from. One source is revealed halfway through, this much is easy to grasp; the man, another lovestruck Sternberg, weaving stories about this reputedly scandalous woman, and how much of it true or merely a ploy to thwart the sexual antagonist? Is she the devil, or is the devil in our lusting eyes?She does behave a lot like we were told she would when we first meet her, sultry, seductive, a sexual being, but it doesn't have to mean anything. So we dream some more, looking to apprehend the face behind the mask.We surface back into the real world, itself resonating with dreamlike ambiance, with no clear demarcation between fiction and truth, for a marvellous scene in a theater where she lets fate deal the cards. The scorned lover takes out a pistol and shoots at the queen of hearts.But beyond the ensuing battle of lovers, beyond even the final twist that sends us away and keeps the camera with her for one last knowing smirk, there is the actual source of the dream that we haven't spotted yet. So a film about a woman who is the subject of stories, a dream about us dreaming her, the woman who is yet present outside the frame but pure and intangible to the last. See if you can spot it out, and if the film is just gaudy, dreamy, or transforms into the makings of that dream. I mean if she is that queen of hearts, then who is shuffling the deck?There is no Eyes Wide Shut without this film, to go this far.There is finally a look of world-weariness that mellows Dietrich's face, a kind of stoic resignation to the cards being dealt as they are, or have been a long time ago. No doubt Welles saw this, many times over, and cast her in Touch of Evil twenty years down the road. Her parting line in that film wonders what does it matter what you say about people. It pertains here.

Forn55 "The Devil is a Woman" marks the end of the celebrated collaboration between Dietrich and von Sternberg and -- if rumor be true and the evidence of this film does tend to bear it out -- it came not a moment too soon for either one. As cold-hearted vamp Concha Perez, Dietrich spends a great deal of screen time pouting, posturing and being photogenically evil, while working her wiles on the likes of Lionel Atwill and Cesar Romero. But there's no heat in it, really; when Dietrich isn't acting mildly amused she appears to be mildly bored. Maybe she's thinking about the next costume change, which is perhaps understandable since she changes costumes about 2 million times during the course of this 75 minute movie. And what costumes they are! Like something out of a drag queen's fever dream. Being Dietrich, of course, she wears them beautifully and director von Sternberg makes sure she is photographed to a fare-thee-well while she's enswathed in them. But costumes and a star and beautiful cinematography (also credited, in part, to von Sternberg) really isn't quite enough to make this 1935 flick fly. John dos Passos is credited with writing the screenplay and it isn't much more than an excuse for Marlene to play the clotheshorse and blow smoke in a lot of mens' faces. This Woman, unfortunately, isn't the Devil; just a minor imp with a wardrobe the size of a Hollywood backlot.

lugonian THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN (Paramount, 1935), directed by Josef Von Sternberg, with screenplay by John Dos Passos, became the director's most personal film to star Marlene Dietrich. For their seventh and final collaboration, instead of possibly doing such then popular choices as a screwball comedy or a lightweight musical showcasing Dietrich's singing talents, Von Sternberg selected Pierre Louys' novel "The Woman and the Puppet." Previously filmed under that title, in the silent era (1920) starring opera singer, Geraldine Farrar, this new edition may very well have been an approach in presenting a different Dietrich, that as a heartless Spaniard girl making pitiful fools of the men who love her. Nothing new there since she portrayed a similar type in her breakthrough film role in THE BLUE ANGEL (1930) under Von Sternberg in Germany. Reminiscent to the silent screen vamp as Theda ("Kiss Me, You Fool") Bara in the 1910s; early Greta Garbo as THE TEMPTRESS (MGM, 1926) and FLESH AND THE DEVIL (MGM, 1927) a decade later; or even the classic Guiseppi Verde opera, "Carmen," THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN may have seemed a trifle old-fashioned by 1935. In spite of dismal results which have kept this particular movie out of circulation for many decades, making this the least known and revived of the Von Sternberg-Dietrich collaborations, it's been labeled a personal favorite to them both.With music based on Rimosky-Karsakoff's "Spanish Caprice" and old Spanish melodies, "The action of the story takes place during a carnival week in the south of Spain at the beginning of the century." After Don Paquito (Edward Everett Horton), the new governor, gives orders for officials to shoot any lawbreakers rather than having them arrested and crowding the jails, the next scene introduces Antonio Galvan (Cesar Romero), a political refugee returning from Paris, in masquerade costume resembling that of Zorro, walking through the crowd looking for women. One in particular (Marlene Dietrich) catches his fancy, and at the conclusion of the parade, follows her home. Coming to the estate to meet this mysterious woman, he's given a calling card from her butler to meet her at the Avenue of the Sycamores. While waiting, Antonio comes across his best friend, Don Pasquel (Lionel Atwill), a former Army officer of the Civil Guard who, three years earlier had resigned his commission. Learning Antonio is to meet this notorious Concha Perez ("the most dangerous woman"), Pasquel relates of how he became involved with "the toast of Spain" that lead to his disgrace. In a flashback lasting 35 minutes, Concha, who works in a cigarette factory, lives with her mother (Alison Skipworth), always heavily in debt. She meets Pasquel in a snowbound train in Paris. Immediately fascinated by her beauty, he yearns on becoming her "protector." During their on and off relationship, at one point consisted of he giving her a beating, Concha gives him up for a bullfighter, Morenito (Don Alvarado) who later kills himself. At the conclusion of his story, the men part company, with Antonio promising Pasquel to forget about her. Curiosity gets the better of Antonio, who meets Concha with the attempt of killing the woman who disgraced his friend. Instead, he's captivated by her charms. Caught embracing by Pasquel, the two former friends agree to settle their differences dueling it out with pistols.In a role that might have been tailor made for Dolores Del Rio, Dietrich gives a convincing performance, looking quite exquisit and alluring, especially while singing "Three Handsome Sweethearts Have I (For He is a Son of a ...)" by Leo Robin and Ralph Rainger. Atwill stands out as the rejected suitor (similar to his earlier role opposite Dietrich in 1933's THE SONG OF SONGS). Interestingly, Atwill bears a striking resemblance towards its director, Von Sternberg, from his sneering eyes right down to the mustache, almost as if Von Sternberg enacted the role himself. While a straight drama, some of the lines are unintentionally amusing: Atwill: (looking down at Concha as she fixes her face seated in front of a mirror) "I love you Concha. Life without you means nothing." Dietrich: (Boldly replies) "One moment and I'll give you a kiss." Cesar Romero, in his first important screen role, is properly cast in his role, much better suited than the original choice of Joel McCrea.Unseen in many years, largely due to its controversy with the Spanish government on how some of the characters are portrayed, or possibly for its dull narrative, THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN began resurfacing either through private screenings or revival theaters around the 1960s before finally making it to television, notably on public TV's WNET, Channel 13, in New York City, where it aired occasionally from 1980 to 1989. Turner Classic Movies premiered this rare gem January 3, 2002, during its "Star of the Month" tribute to Marlene Dietrich. In spite of its limited showings, THE DEVIL IS A WOMAN is still a rarity. Maybe its current availability on DVD might remedy that. (**)

netwallah A sadly predictable, clichéd story about a woman who was no better than she should have been. Sadly, too, the screenplay is by the once-great experimental novelist John Dos Passos, from an original by French exotic potboiler Pierre Louys. This time Marlene Dietrich is Concha, a manipulative, cold-hearted Spanish beauty. Don Pasqual (Lionel Atwill) raises her from the cigarette factory, but she ditches him. He warns his tall young friend Antonio (Cesar Romero) against her, but to no avail. A duel ensues, Concha reproaches Pasqualito for trying to kill the only man she ever cared for, so he doesn't: he points his pistol at the sky, but Antonio shoots him. But instead of going off to Paris with the young victor, she goes back to the man who would have died for her. With an unexpected bit by Edward Everett Horton as a Spanish Governor. Dietrich plays the part of a Spanish woman by moving constantly, twisting at the waist and posturing and then twisting back, flouncing, tossing her head, and so forth. And she makes faces, and has a curl in the middle of her forehead. The photography is strangely crowded: no outdoor scene can be shot except through a tangle of bare trees, no interior scene can be shot without so much busy detail that it's almost impossible to follow people moving across a room, no consecutive scene of Dietrich can be shot without a major wardrobe change. The carnival scenes are so full of confetti and streamers it's almost like an underwater scene in the Sargasso Sea.