Love in the Afternoon Blu-ray Review
Paris When It Fizzles
Reviewed by Michael Reuben, February 8, 2017
Show business lore records a pointed exchange between directors Billy Wilder and William
Wyler at the funeral of Ernst Lubitsch, whose untimely death at the age of 55 deprived cinema of
one of its comedy geniuses. "No more Lubitsch!" lamented Wilder, for whom the director of
To
Be or Not to Be and
The Shop Around the Corner
had been a model and mentor. "Worse than that!" replied Wyler. "No more Lubitsch
pictures!"
Ten years later, Wilder tried his hand at a
Lubitsch picture with
Love in the Afternoon, pairing Gary Cooper and Audrey Hepburn as a
romantic couple just as unlikely as the scheming gigolo and severe Soviet envoy in Lubitsch's
Ninotchka. Like that earlier classic, Wilder's film
was also set in an elegant Parisian hotel
buzzing with amorous liaisons, and also like the earlier film,
Love in the Afternoon surrounds its
featured couple with the slapstick antics of a troupe of supporting players.
Unfortunately for all concerned,
Love was poorly received by both critics and American
audiences (although the reception in Europe was more favorable), and the blame has often been
unfairly placed on Gary Cooper, who, at 56, was deemed too old to be a credible romantic lead,
especially opposite the sprightly Hepburn, who was playing a character barely out of her teens.
Wilder's first choice, Cary Grant, had turned down the role for precisely that reason, and Cooper
was reportedly so stung by the mockery that he subjected himself to a facelift. However,
watching the film today, it's apparent that
Love's problems run deeper than the ages of its star
couple. Wilder was a formidably talented filmmaker, but even he was unable to emulate the
famous "Lubitsch touch"—an indefinable but instantly recognizable magic that could find
comedy in Stalin's purges even while they were still happening.
Love routinely reaches for
the style of Wilder's idol, but it only sporadically achieves the light tone of facetious mockery
that was Lubitsch's special gift. For too much of its overlong running time, the film just seems to
be idling, relying on Audrey Hepburn's charm to carry it. Meanwhile, the dry Gallic delivery of
secondary co-star Maurice Chevalier routinely steals the show.
Love in the Afternoon is the latest release from the Warner Archive Collection, which has done
its usual commendable work to bring this cinematic white elephant to Blu-ray.
Love in the Afternoon is narrated by Claude Chavasse (Chevalier), a cheerfully cynical Parisian
P.I., who specializes in matrimonial work. A regular stimulus to his business is American
magnate Frank Flannagan (Cooper), who travels the world overseeing his business interests and
romancing an array of women, heedless of their marital status. (Pepsi is one of Flannagan's
major investments, and its then-current ad slogan, "Pepsi-Cola hits the spot!", is a running joke.)
Currently Flannagan is entertaining the unnamed wife (Lise Bourdin) of a Paris businessman
(John McGiver), whose suspicions have prompted him to hire Chavasse. When the detective
presents Monsieur X with photographic proof of his wife's betrayal, the distraught husband
announces his attention to shoot Flannagan dead—to the consternation of Chavasse's daughter,
Ariane (Hepburn), who overhears the exchange from the next room, where she is practicing her
cello.
Racing to the Hotel Ritz, Ariane interjects herself into the proceedings and narrowly averts a
crisis. In the process, she attracts the interest of Flannagan, to whom she refuses to identify
herself. He dubs her "thin girl", and a long (a
very long) courtship begins, with Ariane routinely
pretending to be a shady lady trailing a string of lovers. (She gets the details from her father's
case files, which she's been reading on the sly.)
Chavasse is unsuspecting of his daughter's new-found interest. He thinks she spends her
afternoons and evenings practicing and rehearsing at the conservatory, where fellow musician
Michel (Van Doude) has an obvious crush to which Ariane remains oblivious. Her trysts with
Flannagan are confined to the afternoons (hence the title), and Wilder remains coyly equivocal
about just how much intimacy occurs during those hours. A line was added in post-production to
reassure bluenoses that the relationship never became physical, but it's an obvious and
ineffective fig leaf for an ambiguity that was clearly intended as a sexual tease. When Chavasse
eventually learns of the relationship, he intervenes with a degree of calm that would seem almost
unnatural in anyone but a jaded Frenchman. By that point, Flannagan has surprised himself by
falling in love. Embarrassment and confusion are the only remaining barriers to a happy ending,
but those are easily dispatched.
That's really all there is to
Love in the Afternoon, but Wilder and co-writer I.A.L. Diamond (in
the first of many collaborations) draw out the story to a length that is deadly to laughter.
(Lubitsch would have known better.) The film's best parts are those that focus on players other
than the lead couple, exploiting for laughs the scrambling of the hotel staff, the misadventures of
a yappy dog owned by an imperious long-term guest (Olga Valery) and the deadpan reliability of
the Gypsies, the musical quartet retained by Flannagan to serenade his conquests. Whenever
Chevalier's Chavasse appears to comment on love's folly with the mocking detachment of
someone who long ago abandoned such foolishness—he is, of course, a widower—the film
briefly rises into the rarefied air where laughter erupts. Indeed, the single best sequence in
Love is
its opening, where Chavasse provides a guided tour of
l'amour Parisienne, which is so infectious
that it can break out even at a funeral. If
Love had maintained the wry amusement of that initial
sequence, it could have been a classic. Instead we're treated to strained interludes between two
stars whose chemistry is less than electric and whose efforts at banter are sufficiently labored that
the viewer has plenty of opportunity to reflect on just how unlikely their relationship really is.
Hepburn made
Love in the Afternoon the same year as
Funny Face, in which the age gap with
leading man Fred Astaire was even greater, but Stanley Donen's musical gets away with the
pairing for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it's almost half an hour shorter.
Suspension of disbelief is easier when the actors are singing, and an improbable pair is more
acceptable when they dance instead of talking.
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