If you wish to be considered a movie fan, I think it’s crucial that you have an opinion on the icons. Not necessarily just those of your generation, but throughout the century-plus of media out there. What do you think of Lon Chaney Sr., Humphrey Bogart, or even Marilyn Monroe? Do you recognize why Rosalind Russell is one of the funniest actors of her generation? These are all topics I would love to have with you on Twitter. To me, there is something to assessing why certain people have withstood the test of time while it’s likely that millennials have no idea who Mae West is. I’m not saying you have to love their work, but you have to recognize how people consumed film and how it has grown over those decades into what it is.
For me personally, I’ve considered it a sin that I hadn’t seen a Marlene Dietrich movie. This isn’t to say that I didn’t know her name. I recognize her genderqueer images where she dressed manly and questioned womanhood, but I couldn’t tell you exactly why any of that mattered. My film diet was so bad that I couldn’t even name one of her movies. Thankfully, The Criterion Channel has come through again with a seven-film collection where she collaborated with director Josef Von Sternberg. Finally, I was going to right some wrongs and, lazily, I chose the shortest one due to time constraints. Nominated for Best Picture at The Academy Awards and once called “Grand Hotel (1933) on a train” was Shanghai Express (1933).
Maybe if I was more of aware who this cast is, I’d be more willing to agree. Part of Grand Hotel’s appeal was that it had an exemplary cast for the time. It’s where Greta Garbo famously said “I want to be alone.” What was Shanghai Express going to do to match the diverse appeal of that story? Well, it was going to explore Europe’s relationship with China through the guise of a prostitute nicknamed Shanghai Lily (Dietrich), who runs into a series of old acquaintances. The other personalities on the train are pretty memorable, reflecting different classes and identities. Of course, things go awry and suddenly various stops find espionage and murder sneaking in, creating a more complex story.
Before getting into that, I think I should backtrack and explore why they likely compared it to Grand Hotel. It wasn’t so much the story or the cast characters. It’s the train itself. Much like the lavish, towering ceilings of the hotel, the train is an exquisite location for high production value. Every car has something new to offer, tantalizing the viewer’s eyes. The dining car is so exquisite, laid out with decorated tables where the higher class gather to eat and plan their next stop. The only one combining the various rooms is Lily, who has this ability to flirt with every man, navigating their world with precision and bringing forth information that could better those towards the front.
In my personal opinion, there have been few genres of cinema as undervalued as the train story. Stop for a moment and compare that to other modes of transportation. Cars, buses, and planes are too cramped. While they are just as useful in getting characters to and from places, I don’t find them to be as interesting from a narrative standpoint. Much like a boat, a train represents an interesting middle ground where you’re stuck in what is essentially a moving house. For the length of your story, you have the safe ability to wander around, watching the world pass by, and continually run into new faces that simply are waiting to get to their next stop.
I think that there’s plenty to love about this set-up, notably with romantic comedies. I think back on Palm Beach Story (1942) or The Major and the Minor (1942) as two prominent examples of this, where one evening can pave way for something greater. I understand that in theory, Shanghai Express isn’t romantic, at least in a conventional sense, but it does have the familiar fatalism of these stories. It’s one continual journey to the next plot beat, allowing every scene to have clean cuts, transitioning into a new set-piece that introduces characters and themes in ways that are more effective.
If there was going to be one concern from me going in, it was the general treatment of the Chinese supporting cast, including a prominent role by Anna May Wong. Looking through Hollywood history is to find so much that’s problematic, notably yellow-face or “orientalism” that reduces an entire culture to some exotic mysticism. That is, of course, when they’re not subservient to the white main characters. Given that Hui Fei is essentially a maid, Wong could’ve easily been written a lot worse in American hands. That is what’s refreshing about this portrayal. While dated in some respects, it’s not the stereotype that could be outright offensive. Wong contributes something to the plot besides pandering in her limited screen time.
Of course, it would be wrong to discuss a Dietrich movie without talking about the woman of the hour. Despite being a prostitute, it’s more coded and her seduction lies underneath various layers of winks and nods. She is introduced wearing a thin veil, spotted as if she’s never capable of revealing her full face to anyone. This is contradictory to her reputation, which would suggest that she’s “friendly” to everyone. Still, Dietrich has a class about her that immediately sells her calm demeanor, making you curious to sit with her and learn about her life. Who is Lily and why does she want to inhabit this train, never feeling like she truly has a home?
At the end of the day, Dietrich is a cult of personality, playing into a European style of class. There is no Mae West-style eccentricity to everything. She has a mature fashion sense, where Von Sternberg knows how to compliment her simply by placement in a room. While I’m partial to F.W. Murnau’s use of lighting, Von Sternberg has this amazing eye for capturing a person hiding within the frame. This is most notably true of a famous scene where Lily is in a sidecar, draped in pitch darkness. All that can be seen is her smoking a cigarette, handshaking. It’s like an oil painting, capturing beauty in this rich display of emotion. It’s artful, reflecting something more profound about the human condition. Every few minutes a scene like this will pop up, sometimes in shadows and others silhouette, but it always displays a strong gift for stunning visuals.
There are times when this reminded me of more recent movies such as The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014). This is notably true of that film’s third act when a train ride becomes more interrogative, disrupting the society that was once believed to be stable. War was on the fringes and it was about not stirring the pot. That is what’s great about Dietrich. Despite these soldiers with perceived power entering, she’s always above them. While she reflects vulnerability to the audience, she rarely does in her conversations. It’s what makes her compelling, so eager to see her succeed and escape this oppressive narrative.
It’s maybe why the final kiss feels a bit silly while also very symbolic. Having arrived at their destination, there is concern that they have to hide their affection for each other. The difference is that the moment of worry has passed and they’re allowed to live normally again (at least in this way). It’s a sweet little button and one that captures how deceptively simple this story is. As much as it’s about the heat under the collar slowly steaming out, it’s about feeling free to be oneself and expressing in ways that are healthy. It comes with death and negotiations, but it ultimately is a satisfying twist on the narrative.
To be totally honest, I want to believe that Dietrich and Von Sternberg have better movies in them. I’m not mad at this one, but it definitely felt slight at times. While the structure is streamlined (no pun intended), I think it conveys the core values of these characters in ways that are captivating drama. But still, I want to better understand what makes Dietrich such a unique star. I feel like we’re barely scratching the surface here. Sure, she has a very photogenic approach to her acting and I’m captivated by her conversations, but there has to be something more. Maybe it’s just how this colonialist story feels familiar at times. Maybe I’m just too new. Whatever the case may be, I’m excited and eager to discover more very soon.
If you haven’t watched any Dietrich yet, I highly recommend that you do. To be honest, any classic cinema would be greatly recommended. What makes this particularly impressive is comparing to most 1933 films where the silent-to-talkies transition was still a bit rough. This lacks any of those flaws and feels fairly accomplished. It’s a spectacle, even in black and white, and it encapsulates what’s great about the visual and audible side of film. It’s a perfect blend and one that proves that old movies aren’t always difficult to get into so long as you have an open mind. You’ll find some themes actually age very well and continue to resonate with modern audiences. This is a decent example of that.
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