For almost a decade, Greta Garbo was the Queen of Hollywood. Poached from Sweden by Louis B. Mayer of MGM Studios and brought to America amid intense hype, she dominated silent cinema before successfully making the leap to talkies and becoming one of the biggest earners in the business. By 1939, however, her star-status was waning. Following a few flops, she was one of the many actors to be infamously deemed ‘box office poison’ by independent theatre owners. Legendary for her portrayals of tragic women like Anna Karenina and Mata Hari, she’d become seen by audiences as a bit of a drag: you didn’t go to a Garbo film for a fun time. So, what better way to revive the fortunes of her career than with her first full-on comedy?
The Ninotchka of the title is a Soviet envoy played by Garbo who is sent to Paris to ensure the sale of priceless jewellery confiscated from the aristocracy during the Russian Revolution. A trio of bumbling trade envoys oversee the operation, but this matter is complicated by the presence of a former Russian noblewoman, and rightful owner of the jewels, who is working in the hotel where the trio are staying. The noblewoman’s dashing lover, Count Léon d’Algout, decides to introduce Ninotchka to the joys of champagne, parties, and illicit romance, all in the hopes of retrieving the jewels before they are sold. Of course, chaos ensues.
Released in 1939, Ninotchka put together a murderer’s row of talent to ensure a hit. The cast included Melvyn Douglas, Felix Bressart, and Dracula himself, Bela Lugosi. Billy Wilder, who would soon become one of the greatest directors of all-time, co-wrote the script, and behind the camera was Ernst Lubitsch. The German-born filmmaker would also become renowned for his elegant approach to comedies, both classy and perverse but in ways that slipped by the censors. His deft approach to Hollywood would come to be known as “the Lubitsch Touch” – stories of proper society and fine upstanding people who come into conflict that is usually socially or romantically improper and is dealt with through a sharp wit and failing attempts to stick to protocol. What better director to wring laughs out of a movie about Soviet agents, forbidden love, and the diamond-heavy allure of capitalism?
Ninotchka was such a big deal to Garbo’s image that the film sold itself based on the seemingly impossible promise: “Garbo Laughs!” She was never the ceaseless miserabilist her harshest critics portrayed her as, but her performance in Ninotckha is undoubtedly joyous in a way that felt so refreshing to pre-WW2 audiences. The sturdy rule-following Ninotchka evolves into a good time gal who finds love and freedom from the confines of her homeland, and throughout it, Garbo is magnetic in her charm. The gamble worked, earning Garbo her third Oscar nomination and some much-needed commercial clout. While it didn’t lead to a renewed chapter in her career – she would retire soon after and become notoriously private for the remaining decades of her life – Ninotchka did help to further secure Garbo’s status as one of the greats.
And Ninotchka itself stands tall as one of the true masterpieces of classic Hollywood comedy. It’s an example of that precious phenomenon when a group of incredible talents at the top of their level get together and make something that could only have been created at this specific moment in time (the film had been banned in the Soviet Union and attempts to re-release the film during the war were cancelled to prevent disarray with the U.S.’s Soviet allies.) Stalin would have hated it, but everyone else loved it.
Kayleigh Donaldson
Film and cultural critic
