User Reviews

In that era we rather misleadingly call "pre-code", infringements against the production code (which was fully in existence, just lacking in enforcement) came in all shapes and sizes. While some producers titillated their audiences with tentative nudity or shocked them with frank portrayals of infidelity and prostitution, others used delicate but potentially more flagrant transgressions of innuendo. It was at Paramount studios, in the pictures of Ernst Lubitsch, that innuendo was taken to astounding new heights of creative expressiveness.

Of course, Lubitsch was and still is known for his tact in implying the unspoken, but he did not operate in a vacuum. The Smiling Lieutenant was his first collaboration with screenwriter Samson Raphaelson, and while Lubitsch was no doubt the driving personality behind his famous "touch", it seems Raphaelson (who would have a hand in most of the director's subsequent hits) thought enough along the same lines to make the pictures he wrote by far the most "touched". So while Lubitsch gives us visual clues such as the young lady using a secret knock to get into Maurice Chevalier's room, followed by a close-up of a light going on and off, it was probably Raphaelson who contributed some of that witty wordplay that adequately sets the tone. My favourite example of this has to be Chevalier's reply to Miriam Hopkins asking if married people winked; "Oh they do, but not at each other!" And then there are Clifford Grey's lyrics, which playfully delve into some of the more inventive innuendo, most memorably in "Breakfast Table Love".

Chevalier is the perfect star for this kind of understated ribaldry. He has a "touch" of his own, in the way he smiles and raises his eyebrows, that curiously yet alluring treads the line between lecherous and charming. His appearance here, after the disappointing Monte Carlo with Jack Buchanan, demonstrates how important the right kind of actor is for such a role. If Jack Buchanan invited you to breakfast, you'd think he was making a polite offer to pop round in the morning for tea and toast. When Maurice Chevalier invites you to breakfast, there is absolutely no doubt that he wants you to spend the night, and frankly doesn't care what you fancy eating the next morning! Claudette Colbert makes a great screen partner for Chevalier. She is not quite the talented singer that Jeanette MacDonald is, but she has a slinkiness to her that suits the story's undertones, and would later be exploited by Cecil B. DeMille in Sign of the Cross and Cleopatra. This may be one of her earlier roles, but she shows a great confidence and maturity about her that is perfect for the part. The third corner of The Smiling Lieutenant's love triangle is Miriam Hopkins. Hopkins is sometimes mistaken for a bad actress. This is not the case. She is in fact an excellent ham, as were Charles Laughton and John Barrymore, by no means a subtle or realistic player, but nevertheless utterly captivating in the right role. She is excellent here as the naïve and frumpy young princess, displaying her finest comedic sensibilities.

The Smiling Lieutenant contains only five songs, far fewer than previous Lubitsch musicals. With the exception of "Jazz Up Your Lingerie", the numbers also seem far less integral to the narrative than they were in Monte Carlo (which by the way is the best in terms of musical direction and integration, albeit the worst in every other respect). And yet this is a very consistently musical production. In 1931 it was still unusual for pictures to feature incidental music, and ironically the early talkies were often genuinely silent whenever the actors stopped talking. The Smiling Lieutenant however is scored almost from its first minute to its last. Contrary to the later practice of writing all music after filming wrapped, I suspect the incidental scoring may have been prepared beforehand and even played on the set. In particular Claudette Colbert's poignant abandonment of Chevalier seems almost choreographed to its sweeping string arrangement.

When such backing scores became commonplace, they sometimes actually spoiled a picture's integrity, blaring out emotional cues for each scene when none was required. But for The Smiling Lieutenant it is a positive bonus, providing a light and lyrical setting for the many wordless moments. And this of course is all the better for those neatly constructed vignettes of unspoken innuendo, sly winks at the audience that are so fabulously clever they are a delight in themselves.

Lubitsch's third great musical is perhaps his most immoral, along with "One Hour With You". The screenplay by Ernest Vajda and Samson Raphaelson is replete with the occasional Lubitschian double entendres and naughtiness. The film often recalls the lilting grace of Lubitsch's "The Love Parade" but it also looks ahead to the ironic romantic triangle of Lubitsch's lauded masterpiece "Trouble in Paradise".

Here, Chavalier's Lieutenant Niki is torn between an aristocratic princess Anna (Miriam Hopkins) and a working class violinist Franzi (Claudette Colbert), the same way Herbert Marshall's Gaston in "Trouble in Paradise" must choose either Kay Francis's wealthy Madame Colete or his fellow thief, Miriam Hopkin's Lily. But there is a difference. In "Trouble in Paradise", Gaston abandons Mme. Colete for Lily, but in "Smiling Lieutenant", Chevalier unconditionally accepts his forced romance with Anna. At first, Niki is happily fond of Franzi who is introduced to him by his friend Max (Charlie Ruggles, who played one of rejected suitors in "Trouble in Paradise"). But ultimately he is forced to marry princess Anna of the neighboring kingdom of Flausenthurm. The love scenes between lieutenant Niki and Franzi are incredibly charming and flavorsome, while the marriage of Niki and Princess Anna seems unpleasant and uninspired. But the film's charm or brilliance lies in its joyous musical numbers and songs, and its ironic immoral look at its characters. Irony and cynicism are key to understanding Lubitsch's art, especially his works of the early 30s, and "Smiling Lieutenant" is no exception. There is, for instance, an irony and immorality in the lovely number "Jazz Up Your Lingerie", as Princess Anna tries to emulate Franzi in order to look sexy for Niki.

"The Smiling Lieutenant" remains Lubitsch's most underrated musical. Not many people have seen it. It deserves to be seen and compared with Lubitsch's later works, particularly "Trouble in Paradise."

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

There is more real sexuality between male and female in five minutes of a Lubitsch musical than in two and a half hours of any average film you're likely to see today. Needless to say, there is no nudity. It's all done with innuendo and the extraordinary degree of energy and physical magnetism that Lubitsch manages to elicit from all his actors. For once in a film, you actually feel that these extremely attractive young people can hardly wait to go to bed with each other, and when they do (off-screen of course) the result is … transformative. When they burst out in song, as they do on the slightest provocation in a Lubitsch musical, it is because they are full of emotions they can no longer contain. There's nothing dirty or smutty whatsoever in the Lubitsch Touch, as there is sometimes in the work of his disciple Billy Wilder. Lubitsch's characters explode with life, the joy of being young and in love. There are many great film directors, but not one has ever been able to create the kind of sexual energy that Lubitsch puts into all his films. Silly as the plots may be, mediocre as most of the songs are, his films bristle with the romance and humor of life.

It must have been that the movie-going public loved seeing Maurice Chevalier in those tight uniforms, he seemed to be in them in most of those early talkies he made for American studios. Only now and again would Chevalier play something as prosaic as a tailor.

He's a guardsman again in The Smiling Lieutenant. But with the Austrian Empire at peace all the men have a lot of idle time on their hands. Maurice is busy planning his latest campaign when a friend played by Charlie Ruggles asks him with that Chevalier charm to intercede for him with a female violinist in Claudette Colbert.

Maurice does, but the sly rogue gets her for himself. And then he's put on duty to greet the visiting royal house of Flausenthurm which includes King George Barbier and Princess Miriam Hopkins.

In one of those priceless Ernst Lubitsch moments, Chevalier while at attention spots Colbert across the street and throws a few knowing smiles and winks. But when the coach carrying Barbier and Hopkins passes, Hopkins intercepts one of those winks and considers it an uncalled for act upon a royal personage.

In fact she likes what she sees and persuades Daddy to get the Emperor who's her uncle to part with Chevalier. Of course Maurice the old campaigner likes the idea of being married to the dowdy Hopkins if he's got Claudette on the side.

I won't go any farther, but as you can see just by what I tell you The Smiling Lieutenant is a film made before the Code was put in place. In fact the naughtiness of films like these is what got Hollywood the Code. But it's what also makes it hold up very well for today's audience.

No big song hits come from The Smiling Lieutenant, but Chevalier delivers what's there with his Gallic charm. Even Hopkins and Colbert grab a chorus or two with Maurice. Music is by Oscar Straus with English lyrics by Clifford Grey.

This is before the Code so you have some freedom as to how this film will end, the parameters the Code put in place are no longer there. I should say however that Miriam Hopkins gets a makeover that Paul Venoit and his team would envy.

This film is sheer perfection - the Lubitsch Touch is here in spades. This must be one of the most charming films ever made, and it is technically brilliant too for the early talkie era. A fabulous show-case for the talents of three new Paramount stars - Maurice Chevalier has never been better, Claudette Colbert is buoyant - and Miriam Hopkins is an absolute marvel as the innocent princess. When will she be given the adulation she deserves - certainly one of the best actresses of her generation. And George Barbier is also brilliant as her father.

This film could only have been made in the pre-code days - it is very very naughty. The mating pillows is only one example of many sexual innuendos and symbols. But it is all too charming to be offensive to even the most prudish person. One of the best films of the early Thirties.

"The Lubitsch touch" was all the rage at the start of Hollywood's Talkie era, which is why musical trifles such as this one or the preceding THE LOVE PARADE (1929) – skilfully made and pleasantly risqué though they might be – ended up being major Academy Award contenders for a spell. In fact, the film under review got its sole Oscar nod for Best Picture – an achievement which would become virtually impossible in a decade's time. Popular Continental crooner Maurice Chevalier plays his typical role of a Viennese roué who steals the girl (an almost unrecognizably young Claudette Colbert appearing as a concert violinist) of his comrade-in-arms (Charles Ruggles, who unaccountably disappears from the film after the first few scenes!); standing guard at the ceremony of visiting royalty, he creates a diplomatic scandal for seemingly winking at the naïve princess (Miriam Hopkins) when in fact he had been making eyes at Colbert who was watching the parade from the sidelines! To make amends, he is forced to marry Hopkins but he is not about to be tied down to a life of luxurious boredom and slips out in the commoner's uniform of straw hat and tuxedo for a night on the town every chance he gets; in the meantime, the flustered King comforts his lonesome daughter by playing chess in her boudoir! Colbert and her bandmates give a recital in Chevalier's kingdom and she finds herself invited to the Palace…but it's Hopkins who summoned her – to seek advice on how to ignite Chevalier's passion! Curiously enough, Chevalier had been unusually loyal to Colbert instead of his usual roving self and it is only on the latter's advice (and her involvement in Hopkins' jazzy makeover) that he finally abides willingly to his marital duties. As is customary for Lubitsch, what is left unsaid is about as important as what is spelled out and THE SMILING LIEUTENANT provides the director several instances wherein to indulge his subtle wit: the very opening sequence showing a tailor, who had called at Chevalier's to demand payment, leaving when the door is unanswered while a girl is ushered inside soon afterwards by the accomplice-butler; the sequence showing Ruggles trailing behind Chevalier and Colbert and carrying her violin case; Colbert's indoctrination of the stuffy Hopkins into what the modern woman wears and which music she plays, etc.

Beat until thick a highly libidinous young officer of the Guards. Sift together and stir in a pompous little king and his dowdy princess daughter. Whip in gradually a lovely female violinist. Gently fold in some beautiful music and a liberal amount of highly suggestive dialogue. Lightly bake in a mythical kingdom for 88 minutes. The results - THE SMILING LIEUTENANT.

Director Ernst Lubitsch created a triumph in this scintillating pre-Code film which is as light and airy now as it was when first released. Replete with wonderful performances & an effervescent script, it is still sophisticated and remarkably frank. Lubitsch relied heavily on the intelligence of his audience. He knew that a delicate touch would be appreciated by those able to anticipate & understand the nuances of his humor. The fact that this worked so beautifully with both his dialogue and the film music - (songs and background music, which serve to move the plot right along) - only one year after Hollywood fully embraced sound pictures shows the genius of the director's craft.

Oozing Gallic charm, Maurice Chevalier lets his musical skills and highly facile face telegraph to the audience exactly what kind of an amorous rogue his character is. Madly in love with the beautiful Claudette Colbert, but forced to wed the (slightly) frumpy Miriam Hopkins, he is highly amusing as he watches his romantic house of cards come crashing down. The ladies also add greatly to the fun, with sleek Colbert advising pouty Hopkins in song to jazz up her lingerie if she wants to win Chevalier's attentions. (The idea that Hopkins must transform into a wanton woman to entice her husband to commence his connubial responsibilities is dubious at best.)

George Barbier plays the easily offended corpulent King of Flausenthurm. Wonderful character actor Charlie Ruggles is hilarious in the small role of the officer who wishes to woo Colbert first. Movie mavens will recognize an uncredited Elizabeth Patterson as the elderly baroness attending on the Princess.

THE SMILING LIEUTENANT (Paramount, 1931), directed by Ernst Lubitsch, adapted from "The Waltz Dream" by Leopold Jacobson and Felix Dormann, is a real sort-after re-discovery early screen musical starring the legendary entertainer and Frenchman, Maurice Chevalier. While successful upon its release and nominated for an Academy Award as Best Picture, it was only, until in recent years that, unlike other Chevalier releases during his Paramount period (1929-1933), particularly those opposite his most popular co-star, Jeanette MacDonald, including THE LOVE PARADE (1929), ONE HOUR WITH YOU (1932) and LOVE ME TONIGHT (1932), THE SMILING LIEUTENANT never surfaced on commercial or public television. More than thirty or forty years ago, it was considered a lost film with no print known to exist. And upon its discovery, it has been hailed as one of the lesser of the Chevalier-Lubitsch collaborations. Premiering on February 26, 2003, on Turner Classic Movies, in actuality, this is not where THE SMILING LIEUTENANT was first introduced to cable television. Prior to that, it aired on a then new cable channel called OXYGEN in September 2001. Due to its handful of commercial interruptions in a two hour time slot, it was hard to concentrate and fully comprehend as well as appreciate this rarely seen find. However, thanks to the commercial free TCM, THE SMILING LIEUTENANT can be seen in its full 88 minutes of glory. Having it currently readily available today, this should rank as one of the most enjoyable of the raunchy, pre-code production-era films.

In true Lubitsch fashion and continental flair, the story is set in Vienna, Austria, where Chevalier has himself some female trouble. Returning to military uniform along with backdrop sets resembling that of his earlier musical classic, THE LOVE PARADE, Chavelier stars as Nicholas Von Preyn, lieutenant of the first imperial guard regiment, known to others as Niki. Upon arising from his sleep following an unseen fling with a young blonde, Niki is approached by his fellow officer friend named Max (Charles Ruggles), a married man (which really doesn't matter to him) who is madly in love with Franzi (Claudette Colbert), a female violinist and leader of an all girls band working at a Beer Garden Cafe. Because of his maritial status and desperately wanting to meet Franzi, he asks Niki to accompany him, and once he becomes acquainted with Franzi, Niki can "take a walk." But the plan backfires when Franzi ignores Max and allows herself to be escorted home by Niki. Love blossoms. Some time later, Niki and his regiment receive orders to attend the arrival of the visiting King Adolph (George Barbier) and his daughter, Princess Anna (Miriam Hopkins) from Flausenthurm. Across the street in the crowd is Franzi, smiling and winking her eye at the young lieutenant, and while the limousine carrying the guests of honor is parading by, the princess mistakes Niki's twinkling eye and alluring smile for her, which actually was intended for Franzi. At first Anna is insulted, thinking the lieutenant was simply laughing at her. The newspaper headlines soon reads, "Royalty Insulted." But upon meeting him, Anna and the King immediately become flattered by him, and seeing that Anna is falling in love with the lieutenant, her father arranges for them to be married. Summoned to the palace, the marriage proves to be anything but wedded bliss, and a fair game of chess is a far from what one would expect for a couple on their honeymoon. Because Anna appears dull and lacking in beauty, husband Niki soon finds himself "stepping out" to be with Franzi, but faces a dilemma as to which woman he would rather keep.

The supporting cast includes: Elizabeth Patterson appearing briefly as as Baroness Von Schwedel; Hugh O'Connell as Niki's Orderly; Janet Reade as Lily; and Granville Bates in a bit as a bill collector. Making his first of several screen appearances opposite Chevalier, Charlie Ruggles, in spite of his limited screen time near the beginning of the story, adds fine humor to his risqué of wit. Another memorable scene features the face slapping showdown between the plain but youthful Hopkins and the sophisticated Colbert, climaxed with a crying feast.

While labeled a musical, THE SMILING LIEUTENANT has its limitations of songs, by which plot takes preference over tunes. With music and lyrics by Oscar Struss and Clifford Grey, songs include: "That's the Army" (sung by Maurice Chevalier); "Live for Today" (sung by Claudette Colbert); "Breakfast Table Love" (sung by Chevalier and Colbert); "Live for Today"/"I Like Him" (compiled in separate scenes as sung by Chevalier and Colbert, and Miriam Hopkins); "Jazz Up Your Lingerie" (sung by Colbert and Hopkins); and "That's the Army" (reprise sung by Chevalier). In spite the songs being unmemorable, the two that come off best are "Live for Today," and the lively "Jazz Up Your Lingerie." What's more interesting is not only some of the risqué lyrics ("With every bit of liver I start to quiver"), but finding Colbert (telling Hopkins: "Be a good girl") and Hopkins (responding, "I won't!") in rare form singing. In Chevalier tradition, as in THE LOVE PARADE and ONE HOUR WITH YOU, his singing solos are sung directly towards the camera.

According to sources, THE SMILING LIEUTENANT, which had been previously filmed in Germany as EIN WALZERTRAUM (1925) with Mady Christians and Willy Fritzch, also included a French language version filmed simultaneously with this production, each featuring the main leads of Chevalier, Colbert and Hopkins.

For a 1931 release, THE SMILING LIEUTENANT, except for several violin solos performed by Colbert, includes extensive use of underscoring, indicating that early talkies such as this did not actually play without some sort of underscoring to set the mood or pace. But in spite of its present age and 1930s fashions, THE SMILING LIEUTENANT should still hold up quite well. (***)

Nowadays, could we even make a comedy this sexually-tinged without tipping into sheer raunchiness? What a lovely film! It took me several films before I finally appreciated Lubitsch and out of what I have seen, The Smiling Lieutenant (1931) has quickly surpassed the also excellent To Be or Not (1942) to Be as my favorite. It has a delightful cast, especially Claudette Colbert and Miriam Hopkins as the women who find themselves drawn to Maurice Chevalier's lusty lieutenant. The script is witty, sexy, and full of the joy of youth and sensual love. You feel giddy despite yourself while watching it. If the film has a flaw, then it's that some of the musical numbers are a touch forgettable, but Colbert's wonderful "Jazz Up Your Lingerie" more than makes up for that!

And the appeal isn't limited to pre-code geeks like me. Even my dad, who generally sticks to post-1980s spy thrillers and avoids black and white movies like the plague, could not leave the living room until the movie was finished. He was laughing with, not at, this eighty plus year old film. That's how powerful the Lubitch magic is. Don't miss out!

I love Lubitsch, I worship the golden age and I am a great fan of the early talkies and the jazz age, but this film has been a sad disappointment to me. The technical achievements are there, indeed. The condition of the film is astoundingly good. The players are charming. The music is pleasant. Some gags are funny, if not that witty. This is how far I go, for no more praise can be given to this banal story about a lieutenant loving a fiddle player and being harassed by a princess. The whole plot is not only silly, as one of the reviewers said, but also extremely reactionary. It really spoiled my evening. And by the way, what's the fun about a tailor not being paid for his expensive clothes? It simply doesn't look Lubitsch.

This is considered to be Ernst Lubitsch's greatest achievement but for me, a fan of 30s movies, this is everything I hate in a film. A tiny minority of the population absolutely love this but like ONE HOUR WITH YOU, which he made a year later, this is in my top five most loathsome movies of all time.

Admittedly it is superbly made, not just compared with most of the dross made in 1931 - it would be outstanding in any year. Technically it's faultless I just hate this type of thing but I can see that maybe those of you who can endure or even enjoy the hell that is WESTSIDE STORY might disagree. There was a type of film which was born in the thirties and inexplicably is still alive today creeping onto our screens in such awfulnesses as LÀ LÀ LAND.

These films are essentially told in the mode of an opera - telling the story through song but with contemporary music. When sung by Maurice Chevalier at his most irritating grinningness and Claudette finger-nails-on-a-blackboard Colbert this isn't a pleasant experience. And if the singing isn't bad enough, there's the incessant smiling, everyone, not just the eponymous lieutenant are always smiling - it's just not normal.

Do I hate this because I don't like old movies? Obviously not, films from the 30s, particularly pre-code pictures have a certain magic for me. I wouldn't spend most of my evenings watching them if I didn't love them.... or rather some of them.

Do I hate this because I don't like musicals? Since some of my all time favourites ever are musicals: GOLDDIGGERS OF 1933, Jessie Matthews' EVERGREEN and Rouben Mamoulian's magnificent 1929 masterpiece APPLAUSE to name just three so I'm not anti-musical, I just hate this type of sugary, pseudo operatic frippery where everyone's grinning like they'd just found a crate of weed!

Do I hate this because I don't like Maurice Chevalier? He does tend to star in a lot of these repulsive nightmares but in FOLIES BERGÈRE for example he was actually great. I don't even mind his singing given decent material.

Do I hate this because I don't like Ernst Lubitsch? Of course not, that's a silly questions but it does have to be said that besides the few brilliant films he made, he did make quite a few of these monstrosities.

Unless you have a particular acquired taste or are stoned, avoid this or be prepared to have all your illusions of 1930s cinema shattered.

Once more, thanks to TCM, we get the chance of watching this wonderful, charming, early talkie by the master of sophisticated comedy and innuendo, Ernst Lubitsch.

This is an absolutely entertaining and absorbing tale of a carefree, debonair Viennese Lieutenant, who falls for a violin player, thus finding his perfect sexual counterpart, but because of circumstances, becoming married to a prudish, mousey, princess.

Chevalier is the perfect "Smiling Lieutenant" of the title, singing in great from with his heavy trademark, french-accent. Colbert, in an early stage of her career, looks very different from her definitive trademark "Look", she acquired afterwards.....but is equally carefree, joyous and flirtatious. Miriam Hopkins is excellent as the princess, who falls madly in love with Chevalier, and who will do anything to have him!!

Just as it happened with "Trouble in Paradise", I really hope that this gem, as well as "Design for Living", "Monte Carlo", "The Love Parade", "Love Me Tonight", "One Hour With You", will become available on DVD, in decent form, as they deserve, as primary examples, of the long gone Pre-Code Era!!!

The Smiling Lieutenant is so silly and fluffy, it can only have come from the Depression-era of escapism musicals. Starring MGM's jolly Frenchman, Maurice Chevalier, he gets into trouble by smiling too much. I'm not kidding. He's so happy he can't stop smiling (or singing, because this is Maurice Chevalier, after all), and Princess Miriam Hopkins (in only her second movie) falls prey to his charm. Maurice already has a girlfriend, Claudette Colbert, but Miriam wants to marry him. And will he risk disobeying a royal order?

If you're not in the mood for this, you'll probably hate it. But if you like really old movies with silly songs and a leading man who continually winks into the camera, you might find it funny and charming. I like pre-Code movie that allow women to prance around in their lingerie and made naughty jokes. Claudette and Miriam actually sing a song called "Jazz Up Your Lingerie" to entire Maurice. I like this Ernst Lubitsch flick. It definitely features the "Lubitsch Touch" and it's pure escapism.

The Smiling Lieutenant is a standard early Maurice Chevalier musical comedy directed by Ernst Lubitsch making the most of pre-code laxness to wryly convey comic chauvinism. Co-starring Claudette Colbert and Miriam Hopkins, its amoral protagonist's dilemma of deciding between the two hinges on their sex appeal that one will willingly sacrifice the relationship in order to placate the conflicted Romeo.

Rife with double entendre and Chevalier's care free horn dog style its broad insinuations crosses the line of semi-crass and silly that Lubitsch handles far better before in The Love Parade (29) and after in The Merry Widow (34). In both theses cases Chevalier is working with "prude" Jeanette McDonald who found "hands on" Maurice a literal pain in the butt that may in some way elevated the give and take between the two on screen that the Smiling Lieutenant fails to achieve.

Ernst Lubitsch came to Hollywood in the years before the "Code", or censure, if you will, that plagued all artists working during that era. This is a clear example of what could be done in the movies when the scissors of the censor were not in the picture, no pun intended.

If you haven't seen the film, please stop reading now.

This film is based in an operetta. It's light, it's frothy, it's naughty, and it's a delight to watch it more than sixty years after it was made. Mr. Lubitsch was a genius in creating films that bore his signature like no other director of the time. His European background is constantly in display. He had a sensitivity for giving the viewer a glimpse of that old world he had left behind when he emigrated to America.

Mr. Lubitsch worked with the best actors of the times. His choice of Maurice Chevalier, or maybe it wasn't his decision, but the studio's, pays handsomely in this movie. Mr. Chevalier brought his own style to the American cinema and he can be a bit strange in the way he reacts in front of a camera, but in spite of his school of acting, he went to become a favorite in this country too.

Mr. Chevalier plays the bon vivant lieutenant in the Austrian army who has a roving eye for any beautiful woman that crosses his path. He finds that, and much more with Franzi, the violinist in charge of an all women's orchestra. It's clear what attracted Niki to Franzi; she is a beauty who aims to please. There is no subterfuge in the relationship; Franzi moves right in into Niki's apartment. This couldn't have been done in the movies later on, when the Hays code came into being.

Claudette Colbert had a lot of charisma. In "The Smiling Lieutenant" she shows why she was a star in her own right. Ms. Colbert and Mr. Chevalier made these lovers look right. Nothing is done in the open and everything is done with great taste, although the viewer can guess what's really happening without too much guessing.

To complicate matters, our lieutenant is fancied by a dowdy Princess Anna on a visit to Vienna. Since honor is at stake, Niki marries her, but his heart is left behind with Franzi. Niki doesn't want any part of this woman who has been imposed on him.

When Franzi and the orchestra make an appearance in the neighboring country, Niki discovers her and they go back to their trysts whenever they find the time, to the chagrin of the princess. Franzi realizing she could never get Niki without causing a great scandal, gives in, and in the process, transforms the "ugly duckling princess" into a lovely swan. Miriam Hopkins playing Anna ends up with the man she wanted. The final scenes suggest that yes, they will have their fun after all.

The set decorations of the film are breathtaking. The palace scenes, the costumes, take the viewer to the Austro-Hungarian empire. This film will please anyone looking for an easy time at the movies thanks to Ernst Lubitsch.

I think I've seen my fill of Ernst Lubitsch's early movies starring Maurice Chevalier.

I discovered Lubitsch's later films -- "Ninotchka," "The Shop Around the Corner," "To Be or Not to Be" -- first, and instantly fell in love with them. Now, watching his earlier works, it's clear that he matured as a film-maker. His early musicals are all right, I suppose, if you're in the mood for them, but they're missing the trace of sweet melancholy that make his later films so unique.

But mostly, I've discovered that I just dislike Maurice Chevalier. He's so effeminate and just so, well, creepy, that I have trouble enjoying the movie around him. In "The Smiling Lieutenant," he's nearly always on screen, but one of the only times he's not, during a musical number in which Claudette Colbert and Miriam Hopkins sing about spicing up Hopkins' wardrobe of lingerie, ends up being the highlight of the film.

Grade: C

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.

Among some movie buffs, there is a line of thought about Gene Kelly that he comes off as an unlikeable and smug jerk. Those people have never seen a film starring Maurice Chevalier. Kelly might stalk you until you fall for him, and a little more creepily than Fred Astaire would, but at least you know he'd probably stick around afterward. Chevalier, not so much. Behind that gigantic smile lies a snake. His thick French accent may have been sexy back in the day, but hearing it now just ups his jerk percentage higher and higher. Honestly, though, I love the guy. He's such a goofy character. He may be a cad, but he's an entertaining one. I shake my head at how naughty he is, but always with a grin on my lips. Chevalier is at his most delightfully awful in The Smiling Lieutenant, playing a philandering Viennese officer currently courting violinist Claudette Colbert. During a ceremony honoring royalty visiting from postage stamp-sized Flausenthurm, Chevalier smiles, laughs and winks at Colbert. The princess of Flausenthurm (Miriam Hopkins) catches it, thinks its for her, and demands that something be done about it. Queue the shotgun wedding, and Maurice is in hot water, now wedded to a wet blanket and in love with a hot tomato. The movie is pretty raunchy by 1931 standards. Unsurprisingly, the film was considered lost for many years. I'm sure the Hayes Code enforcers would have been quite happy with burning every print. There's a ton of sex being had by the characters, and there's a whole song dedicated to women's underwear. Seriously. Claudette Colbert teaches Miriam Hopkins about modern fashions in "Jazz Up Your Lingerie", easily the best number in the film and, in my mind, one of the weirdest and most entertaining in cinema history. I'd have to do some extensive looking into all the musicals I've ever seen, but I'd estimate that this is top five material. Hopkins completely steals the movie. The liner notes in the Eclipse Lubitsch Musicals set claims that it is her first film, but IMDb lists at least one earlier feature. The plot is very silly; one wouldn't imagine that it could contain any real emotion. But I actually did feel for Hopkins after Chevalier refused to sleep with her on their wedding night. This is where you can't help but hate Maurice. I also liked George Barbier, who plays Hopkins' father. And one of my favorite character actors, Charles Ruggles, appears very briefly at the beginning.