Camille

Maybe it helps to be a romantic. But for my money, this is the greatest romance that was ever put on film. It has the perfect stars. Greta Garbo was the star of the age--any age--still beautiful and absolutely created to act in films. Even in silent films, her acting is measured and understated. She never falls prey to exaggeration nor pretense. I think that is the secret to her effectiveness. Allow me an example: after accepting money from Baron de Varville for a disguised outing with her lover Armand (which the Baron already suspects), she kisses him gently on the cheek only to be reviled with a harsh slap from the baron, who then departs. The camera moves in on that incomparable face. The head slowly lowers, the lips slightly part, a low moan expresses the guilt, shame and humiliation which momentarily consume her. Then she spies the money clutched tightly in her hand. Recognizing she now has the means to escape with her lover, a slight smile emerges reflecting her change of mood and restored joy. It is a scene like no other.

As for her co-star, Robert Taylor was castigated as being too callow for the role. In fact, most critics today realize he was exactly what Dumas intended: young, impressionable--and certainly irresistibly gorgeous in his dewy youth. That beauty often caused the young Taylor undeserved venom from the critics. He was a very capable actor and probably set the standard for the contemporary romantic leading man we see even today. Rumors that Garbo dismissed him as unimportant are not true. She liked him very much and was greatly impressed after he sent her mother flowers when they all attended the premiere of CAMILLE in Stockholm.

CAMILLE? A great movie with a great cast, including the marvelous Henry Daniell, whose Baron de Varville is very Jekyll and Hyde. I encourage anyone to see it. It is one of the finest films of the 20th Century.

"Camille" is a tragic romantic drama based on the 1848 novel and the 1852 stage adaptation by Alexandre Dumas, fils.

The story takes us into 19th-century Paris, where the beautiful Marguerite Gautier, a famed courtesan, lives on the edge of polite society. Her companion arranges a meeting with the wealthy Baron de Varville, hoping to secure her future. But at the theatre, Marguerite mistakes the baron for a charming young man from a respectable family - Armand Duval - and a spark is ignited. Upon realizing her error, she accepts the baron's offer, leaving behind a heartbroken Armand who may have fallen in love at first sight...

Director George Cukor delivers a sumptuous romance, rich in emotion and aesthetic elegance. However, the plot at times drifts into melodrama, dealing heavily in the cards of unrequited love, rendering some of the climactic scenes predictable, though still deeply affecting.

The film's set design glows with opulence, as if trying to mask the sorrow woven through this tale of tragic love. Cukor skillfully uses silence and light in the final scenes, gently dimming the candle in Marguerite's eyes and stilling the breeze in her curls.

The story balances love's ideals against the weight of social expectation - without leaning into overt moralizing. This world does not forgive the past nor the burden of reputation. Cukor wraps this world in stark character contrasts: Marguerite may dazzle in ballrooms and champagne, but at her core, she is melancholic and achingly aware of her dreams - and of the cost they bear.

Greta Garbo plays Marguerite - a woman who can extinguish lights with a glance, drive away darkness with a smile, and provoke duels with a mere turn of the wrist. It is arguably one of the finest performances of her career. Unlike other directors, Cukor shapes her character with restraint, placing her in situations she causes herself, never allowing her to lapse into overwrought theatrics. She remains who she is - complex, composed, and quietly doomed - from first frame to last. This subtlety, I believe, saves the film from tumbling fully into soap opera.

Robert Taylor is Armand Duval - a young man who believes in love above all. His performance may be occasionally awkward, but it's honest, especially in moments of jealous frustration, when he battles the pain of a love he doesn't quite understand.

Lionel Barrymore plays Armand's father, a figure of moral gravitas. Torn between his affection for his son and the preservation of the family name, he recognizes Marguerite's genuine love, but also the social ruin their union might bring.

Henry Daniell as Baron de Varville is no simple antagonist. He is a gentleman who courts, caresses, honors and punishes - all with the elegance of gloved hands. He symbolizes the world Marguerite longs to escape, yet cannot deny - a shadow cast over what she dares to call happiness.

Love may be fleeting, and loss may sting - but it is still worth giving. Camille is, for that reason, a work of poetry for those who cherish the art of classic tragic romance.

Most Greta Garbo fans rank this as her finest work--and it probably is. Not only is she highly competent in the title role, but the supporting cast shines just as brightly--everyone from Laura Hope Crewes to Henry Daniell to Lionel Barrymore. And Robert Taylor is the ideal romantic hero at the peak of his darkly handsome good looks. He and Garbo make a wonderful pair.

George Cukor's direction is full of richly observed details of behavior, never flinching from the occasional coarseness of the characters. All of the technical work is above reproach and those familiar with the story of the Lady of the Camelias will not be disappointed. Lionel Barrymore makes a brief but effective appearance midway through the film. His scene with Garbo is delicately played and gives added credence to Garbo's nobility in letting her lover go.

Biggest drawback is the film's pace--some editing may have helped--but the final result is still impressive.

The luminous Greta Garbo in one of her best remembered roles. In this she is the tragic heroine who is dabbling with fate with Robert Taylor (who seems to be wearing more make-up than Greta!) while moving towards the inevitable weepie conclusion.

Certainly Garbo was best in these kind of other-worldly roles, in another place and time, than she was in the few contemporary features she attempted. Not a great actress, but a beautiful woman and a true star who the camera clearly loved. Taylor would move out of romances and musicals into more typically heroic roles by the end of the 1930s, but he's a good romantic lead here.

And I mustn't forget the pleasure of seeing Henry Daniell, one of Hollywood's greatest villains.

Filmed with the commonplace MGM gloss of the time, ‘Camille' delivers on all levels - if you're looking for an escapist, teary, film with lots of close-ups and a nice slow pace. It belongs square in that first decade of the talkies and this sort of thing fell out of fashion after the Second World War.

This film further proves that the assembly-line system of Hollywood studios back then should also be taken seriously in terms of artistry. Just because movies were produced run-of-the-mill doesn't mean that they weren't paid critical attention to by their makers. The usual impression on studio-era Hollywood is: take a formulaic narrative style, maybe adapt a stage play for the screen, blend in a handful of stars from the stable and the films rake in the profit at the box office. Not quite, that's the easy perception. George Cukor, another of those versatile directors, made it apparent with Camille that filmmaking as an art may still flourish despite (and even within) certain parameters. Camille is beautiful, in so many respects. And it's not just because of Greta Garbo.

Sure, the acting is amazing, the casting is perfect. Garbo is luminous, mysterious, cruel, and weak at the same time. Robert Taylor surrenders himself to be the heartbreakingly young and vulnerable Armand. Henry Daniell's coldness and sadism is utterly human and familiar. The others are just plain wonderful. The writing contains so much wit and humor, devotion and pain - but it never overstates anything. The rapport and tensions between lovers, friends, and enemies are palpable and consistent. The actions flow so naturally, just like every scene, that checking for historical inconsistencies seem far beside the point.

There is so much that I love about Camille that it's hard to enumerate them all, but with every little discovery comes the realization that this is "but" a studio production, so it makes the experience more exquisite. Camille is a gentle, poignant romantic movie that, like Garbo, takes its place delicately and self-effacingly in the history of American cinema, but makes itself indelible in the heart and mind of the lovelorn individual viewer.