The Mysterious Lady

This is to my mind the most brilliant of all of Garbo's silent films, and I never fully understood the attitude of most critics who simply dismiss it on the account of the Divine Woman's own lack of care for this particular entry. True, she did not like just doing this film, and true, Mauritz Stiller was actually dying while she was shooting this, therefore, we can understand that she thought poorly of it; yet this was shot at the peak of silent film-making, in 1928, and never before had Fred Niblo been so good, never had his full command of the motion picture been so obvious. All through the film, the direction is superb, subdued and subtle, while the gorgeous settings, MGM's trademark, are lit and photographed at their best. Niblo makes the best of his composition skills, with or without Garbo in the shots, and the way he deals with the extras, putting the stars in the distance, swallowed by the crowd, is clearly an innovation for 1928; his use of a few, but decisive shots based on a moving camera proves that, like the European imports(Murnau, Leni, Fejos, Christensen) or like his fellow Americans (Ford, Borzage,Wellman), he was aware of the German experiments. Of course, the spy story is not the source of any intellect-expanding masterpiece, but, hey, this is a stylish and entertaining film that foreshadows some of Hitchcpock's best British films of the decade to come. And Niblo even handles suspense in a remarkable way in the last five minutes. The edition id remarkable, the print being a bit worn but still clear; and an emasculating restoration has been avoided, retaining thus the crystal-clear, crisp quality of William Daniel's photography. And to conclude, a question about Garbo: who else on earth could wear these dresses and get away with it?

Fred Niblo is undoubtedly one of the most under-rated film-makers ever. His visual stylisations, here helped by the incredible photography of William Daniels, can make a fairly routine spy yarn into a beautiful work of art. Of course it helps when Greta Garbo is on your canvas. This is an astonishing film that, had it been given a more believable ending (tragic rather than happy), may well be considered a masterpiece today.

Garbo's beauty and superb acting abilities make the material compulsive. And Conrad Nagel matches her perfectly. Their first love scene is intoxicating in its beauty, and heart-stopping in its passion. It is one of the great love scenes of all time. And in the nail-biting climax there is a moment so grotesquely powerful that you will never forget it. This is a film to savour and love - it represents silent film at its very best. Yes the plot is slight, but what is conveyed beyond that plot is more than profound. And the excellent music score on the MGM video enhances this profundity. This film is beauty itself.

On this evidence, Garbo's silent work is her most accomplished. She struggles in talking roles; her dour, flat acting voice meant she had to be characterised as emotionless - hence the iceberg persona, and she was probably glum because she knew she was struggling. Here we can see her real eloquence and the confidence behind it that comes of knowing she is shimmering and wonderful. In contrast to many other silent stars who exaggerated every gesture, Garbo shows intelligence and discrimination in her movements, which involves a lot of posturing but is not unnatural. She uses her natural grace for expression, particularly her arms - she really is lithe and expressive - and she must have missed all that later in her career.

Fred Niblo's inventive direction here also impresses; he never lets a scene go dry and the narrative method is almost as sophisticated as a talkie as he brings out a good deal of subtle but telling body language. We watch characters speak and can pretty much divine what they're saying, which reduces the need for irksome intertitles.

The first part of the film, set in Vienna, is a romantic encounter, deceptively straightforward. But there is intrigue in store, and in the latter half of the film, set in Warsaw, tension consistently mounts as every scene is built around suspense - don't think that Hitchcock invented this stuff. Garbo and her leading man, Conrad Nagel, seem connected to each other on rubber bands such is the dramatic bond between them.

At the climax is a superb trick that will make you exclaim out loud. This could be the best film I've seen this year.

This is, quite possibly, the silent film to present to those who are resistant to silent films. First, the characters earn our affection from the very beginning -- scenes of the beautiful Garbo crying during an opera, Nagel becoming entranced by her. Within the first five minutes, you are drawn into them. Garbo becomes more beautiful as the years go by -- we see a beauty that is modern; Garbo would be considered beautiful in the 21st century, unlike many stars from the earlier days. (I mean, could Theda Bara cut it in 2009? Mary MIles Minter? Pola Negri?) Conrad Nagel plays the male lead quietly but effectively -- almost all of the acting here is restrained.

Beyond the beauty of Garbo, one has to really credit Fred Niblo for directing this film. The film is essentially Hitchcock before Hitchcock. This film has elements of "North By Northwest," "The Man Who Knew Too Much," "The Thirty-nine Steps," and, most surprisingly, "Notorious." You have the "wrong man" theme, the guilty, obsessive love, the elegant, tricky villain, the conflicted heroine, Hicthcockian camera movements, some unexpected plot twists, some scenes of real suspense, and even a darkly humorous bit toward the end regarding a corpse.

Very nicely done.

Writing scores for silent movies requires a considerable talent, but for some pictures the music must practically write itself. This is not to play down the efforts of the many fine score composers, but simply to say that for someone with musical ability, a picture such as The Mysterious Lady is constantly suggestive of melody, tempo and timbre, in a way that translates naturally into a musical setting.

This musical effect is, it seems, largely down to the director Fred Niblo. Niblo, an ex-Vaudevillian who married into the Cohan family, came into motion pictures relatively late in life (he first sat in the director's chair at 42), but he soon proved himself to be one of the finest and most poetic craftsmen of the cinema. The Mysterious Lady was made at a time when the talkies were beginning to muscle in, but Niblo proudly blows a trumpet blast for the dying art form. Interestingly, The Mysterious Lady actually contains a lot of examples of images filling in for sound. Sometimes this is for narrative purposes, such as the superimposition of the opera scene when Nagel plays the piano, to inform the audience of what he is playing. Other times it is purely atmospheric, such as the shot of a row of violins in the orchestra, later grimly echoed by a similarly composed shot of the drums at Nagel's degradation.

Throughout, the picture sustains a lovely rhythmic flow. The love scene between Garbo and Nagel is delicately suggested through a series of interlocking images, unspoiled by intertitles. Niblo shows complete control over the pace at any one moment, the first few minutes being frenzied and choppy, then slowing to that glorious romantic feel when Garbo is introduced in a very memorable entrance. Only once does Niblo overdo it, when he throws in a superimposition of Nagel daydreaming about assaulting Garbo – the context and Nagel's uncomfortable expression are enough without this heavy-handed display.

So if Niblo was a kind of visual composer, who was his muse? Well, let's not extend a metaphor too far, but it certainly appears that Niblo was inspired to make beautiful images to complement the natural beauty of Greta Garbo. And to an admirer of fine dramatic performance Garbo is doubly beautiful because she is such an outstandingly good actress. At a period when too much screen acting was hammy and unsubtle, Garbo was refreshingly understated. To watch a Garbo picture, especially a silent one, is to witness dozens of little moments of performance genius. One example here is when her character hears the news that von Raden has been imprisoned because of her. She shows the tiniest glimmer of a reaction, enough for the audience to pick up on and understand, but not enough for her character to give herself away to those around her. Garbo captivated audiences with her mysterious allure and startling passion – the X-factor that made her a phenomenal star.

Like the silent picture, Niblo's days as a director were coming to an end. Whether his decision to retire a few a few years after this was down to the sound revolution or not I am unsure. I have not seen any of the handful of talkies he made, and I simply don't know whether he gave them the same grace and musicality that we see here. What I do know, what every film buff knows, is what Greta did next. Of all Hollywood stars, Garbo's transition from silence to sound was among the most successful. Such was her power, her naturalism and her overwhelming appeal, that in spite of the 1930s demand for more earthy performers, she remained one of our brightest stars.