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Design for Living (1933)

Design for Living (1933)

Ernst Lubitsch’s movie version of Noel Coward’s hit stage comedy has
always had a certain stigma attached to it, because Lubitsch and the ace
writer, Ben Hecht, had had the temerity to use only one single line
from the play and to totally alter the construction of the piece. They
kept the basic premise—two men and one woman carry on an extended
menage a trois—and several plot points, but otherwise they basically
re-envisioned the entire story, even changing the names of the

I had not been spared a certain prejudice against the Lubitsch/Hecht
Design for Living, and felt over the years that it was not first-rank
Lubitsch, though my index cards praise the work which I first saw in
1962, rated “Excellent,” and saw again three years later and still liked
(see my blog, “The Lubitsch File – Part 2”). But that was nearly 50
years ago, and I’ve learned a few things since then. So I just saw
Criterion’s new Blu-ray edition of this controversial picture, and found
it to be absolutely brilliant!

Now here’s the twist: It’s not only better than the Coward play,
it’s an extraordinarily brave and daring comic version of what the great
Anglo-Irish historian/novelist/poet Robert Graves used to say was the
first and therefore oldest story ever told—and what he referred to as “the single poetic theme”—in the most ancient mythology, the
personages were two Sacred Kings and one Love Goddess who was their
muse, their lover, their nemesis. (See Graves’ The White Goddess or his
compilation and annotation of The Greek Myths.)

Unlike the play, Lubitsch begins at the beginning, starting with the
meeting of the three (on a train going to Paris), and then proceeds to
run out numerous variations on the central theme. First the three swear
off sex, what the lady in the case (Miriam Hopkins) calls “a gentlemen’s
agreement,” and they dedicate their time to bettering the men’s chosen
art, one a playwright (Fredric March), the other a painter (Gary
Cooper). She is a potent muse and deadly honest critic (her favorite
word being “rotten!”), and both men eventually achieve great success.

However, while March is getting his first play staged in London,
Cooper and Hopkins can not resist their profound attraction: She
stretches out on a bed with the devastating line: “I know we said it was
a gentlemen’s agreement—but I’m no gentleman!” March hears what’s
happened and, ten months later, comes to call while Cooper is away, and,
naturally, Hopkins and March can’t adhere to the old agreement either.
Then Cooper returns while the other two are having breakfast and March
is still in his tux…

And that’s how it goes; so she renounces both men and marries her
greatest and straightest admirer, played by the ultimate conventional
square, Edward Everett Horton at his best. A marriage that works only so
long as Cooper and March don’t show up. Which they, of course,
ultimately do, and so begins the full-out, no holds barred menage a
, as the movie shockingly concludes. It is, like all great
comedies, a tragic situation turned on its head into a blithely
unapologetic happy ending.

Each scene is superbly acted. The four principals are all
surprising, especially Gary Cooper, who at the time was noted for his
laconic Westerner in things like The Virginian, but each of them really
is believable in their roles, thanks to the typically Lubitschian tempo
and style, which is unmistakable as always. Really, as years go by, I
think I enjoy being in his company more and more every time. And Design
for Living
is a welcome addition to the top tier of his universe.

A historical note: This film was released in the year before the
stringent and puritanical Production Code was put into full force, so
that when Paramount wanted to reissue it a couple of years later, they
were definitively refused. Just under the wire, Lubitsch had gotten away
with his most outrageous affront to middle-class morality.

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I'm not certain that staightening out a theatrical plot in a film version is necessarily a virtue. Many films have done this to the time line of a stage play and turned what had been a theatrical puzzle into a straight narrative event. My prime example of this is Cronenberg's M BUTTERFY. This is not to detract from the quality and brilliance of the film. Maybe it's just apples and oranges. Both can be excellent in their own genre.


In a way, Hecht & Lubitsch treated Coward just as Lubitsch had earlier treated all those Hungarian playwrights where he kept a basic idea and tossed the rest out. After all, this was the fellow who turned Oscar Wilde's verbally dense LADY WINDEMERE'S FAN into a silent film masterpiece.

I presume the BLU-RAY has the same excellent EXTRAS that were on the older Criterion DVD edition. The main lecture with stills from this & other Lubitsch pics is just great.

Mention should also be made of what fun it is hearing Coop speak French. And not badly at all. The first half reel of the film (including the 'meet-cute') is entirely in French since the boys assume Hopkins doesn't speak English. And how gorgeous they all were! March still touched with a youthful bloom he'd soon lose, while Cooper & Hopkins are flat out devastating. The film is the epitome of Paramount Continental swank; very funny and very, very sexy. (Look for a classic 'Lubitsch Touch' for Edward Everett Horton after his unhappy honeymoon night.)


jerome s

This was a fabulous film and and a precursor to Lubitschs 1941 film " That Uncertain Feeling " with Merle Oberon as the Love Goddess and Melvyn Douglas and Burgess Meredith as the Sacred Kings

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