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#581 - Grand Hotel
Edmund Goulding, 1932
Follows the exploits of the staff and guests of a high-class German hotel.
For years, Grand Hotel seemed like an interesting prospect as far as early Hollywood films went. Set amidst the hustle and bustle of the Grand Hotel, the fanciest place to stay in Berlin, it promised a sufficiently compelling and complex film for the early days of talking pictures as it balanced a number of different plots and characters that intertwined and bounced off one another over the course of a feature film. There are quite a few plots running through the film that demand one's attention regardless of their significance, whether it's the seriously ill bureaucrat (Lionel Barrymore) opting to check himself in to spend his last days in style or the effervescent nobleman (John Barrymore) who is secretly a gentleman thief attempting to steal from a fellow guest. All of this takes place amidst a series of lavishly-designed sets that definitely put the "grand" in Grand Hotel and is captured with the level of dedication one would expect from early-'30s Hollywood.
When I did finally get around to watching Grand Hotel, I couldn't help but find the end result awfully boring for the most part. The film's status as an all-star vehicle is apparent from the opening credits, which opt to give fanciful title cards to all its most famous players. I do wonder if this is the first film to try using star power to compensate for any potential narrative weaknesses; as such, I genuinely struggle to remember what actually happens in the film. To be fair, the stars' presence plugs the gaps reasonably well; Greta Garbo always makes for a magnetic screen presence, which is clear though her role as the fading Russian ballerina whose fear of the future is assuaged somewhat by the arrival of John Barrymore (even after his plan to steal from her almost works). Other plots are serviceable but not genuinely good - Joan Crawford's turn as an aspiring performer earns some pathos, as does Lionel Barrymore's turn as a timid man only now learning what it is like to live. These are nice touches, but they fail to make for a fundamentally solid film. Grand Hotel deserves a modicum of respect, but there is little about its sumptuous melodrama that appeals even in a historical context. Star power may be the main strength of the film, and it is a strength that is not completely without merit, but it's not enough to seriously redeem the final product.
Edmund Goulding, 1932
Follows the exploits of the staff and guests of a high-class German hotel.
For years, Grand Hotel seemed like an interesting prospect as far as early Hollywood films went. Set amidst the hustle and bustle of the Grand Hotel, the fanciest place to stay in Berlin, it promised a sufficiently compelling and complex film for the early days of talking pictures as it balanced a number of different plots and characters that intertwined and bounced off one another over the course of a feature film. There are quite a few plots running through the film that demand one's attention regardless of their significance, whether it's the seriously ill bureaucrat (Lionel Barrymore) opting to check himself in to spend his last days in style or the effervescent nobleman (John Barrymore) who is secretly a gentleman thief attempting to steal from a fellow guest. All of this takes place amidst a series of lavishly-designed sets that definitely put the "grand" in Grand Hotel and is captured with the level of dedication one would expect from early-'30s Hollywood.
When I did finally get around to watching Grand Hotel, I couldn't help but find the end result awfully boring for the most part. The film's status as an all-star vehicle is apparent from the opening credits, which opt to give fanciful title cards to all its most famous players. I do wonder if this is the first film to try using star power to compensate for any potential narrative weaknesses; as such, I genuinely struggle to remember what actually happens in the film. To be fair, the stars' presence plugs the gaps reasonably well; Greta Garbo always makes for a magnetic screen presence, which is clear though her role as the fading Russian ballerina whose fear of the future is assuaged somewhat by the arrival of John Barrymore (even after his plan to steal from her almost works). Other plots are serviceable but not genuinely good - Joan Crawford's turn as an aspiring performer earns some pathos, as does Lionel Barrymore's turn as a timid man only now learning what it is like to live. These are nice touches, but they fail to make for a fundamentally solid film. Grand Hotel deserves a modicum of respect, but there is little about its sumptuous melodrama that appeals even in a historical context. Star power may be the main strength of the film, and it is a strength that is not completely without merit, but it's not enough to seriously redeem the final product.