Any lover of the Golden Era of Hollywood will doubtlessly be aware of the concept known as “the Lubitsch Touch”, in reference to the esteemed director Ernst Lubitsch, who remains one of the most important and accessible directors from this period. There aren’t any easy ways to describe this particular quality – those who worked with the director have tried to use scenarios from his films to explain it (Billy Wilder, who got his start from Lubitsch, uses the opening scene of Trouble in Paradise to exemplify the idea), while others just describe sensations that are distinctly the work of the filmmaker. Putting it into coherent words is impossible, since it requires us to unpack the numerous mystical and mesmerizing qualities that went into the director’s work, which is as difficult as it is redundant. Regardless, he made incredible films, delicate and heartfelt comedies and lighthearted dramas that are both insightful and entertaining, every one of them contributing to the director’s unquestionably high reputation in the industry. Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife is one of his most cherished works, and the Lubitsch Touch is certainly in full effect throughout this film, the story of a young French socialite and a bawdy American businessman fuelling one of the most funny, genuinely inspiring comedies of this era, one that remains just as revolutionary and refreshing today as it did in the 1930s, a common quality when looking at the work of a director who somehow seemed incapable of making anything that wasn’t worth watching at the very least.

There’s a spark to this film that can’t be put into coherent words – a daring combination of screwball comedy and soaring romance, Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife has many admirable qualities that lead us to fall madly in love with it, including all the peculiarities that make it stand out in an era dominated by these gentle but humorous glimpses into romance. Lubitsch had a very interesting approach to telling these stories – working from a script by the aforementioned Wilder and his own recurring screenwriting partner Charles Brackett (in their first collaboration with the director), Lubitsch takes on a number of bold themes, using implication and inference to draw attention to some deeper conversations, as a means to not distract from the very effervescent tone that encompasses the film. Throwaway lines like “he’s the one man who survived the Great Depression” indicate that this is a film with its foot firmly in the proverbial socio-cultural door, but not to the extent where the tone radically shifts to more sobering discussions, nor where the more complex real-world implications are all that important to the story. After all, as much as this is a film rooted in reality (as was the case with many of the director’s works), Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife is still a very simple love story that just layers on small amounts of commentary as a means to situate it in a particular period, as well as fuelling even more interest in the central dynamic, actually adding some stakes to a genre that often lacked them at this time.

Naturally, a Lubitsch film wouldn’t feature his distinctive touch without actors who can match the director on a fundamental level. Throughout his career, he worked with many major stars from both the USA and Europe, giving them the opportunity to turn in arguably some of their greatest work. Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife features Gary Cooper (at this point already an established, but not yet the iconic star we would become in upcoming years) and Claudette Colbert, who was at her peak during this period. Very few actresses define the 1930s quite as well as Colbert, who could do anything from screwball comedy to historical epic to sentimental romance, and never appear to be anything less than entirely natural and at ease. This film is a showcase for both actors, who understand the comedic constraints of the roles, but which doesn’t stop them from adding depth where it was necessary. It’s a wonderful two-hander of a film that genuinely feels like it is built on the natural chemistry that comes through in the two central performances, as well as the work of actors who can juggle both the dialogue-heavy screenplay with the more intangible qualities that make this film such a stunning achievement. It isn’t often considered the peak for either Colbert or Cooper, since they both turned in more iconic performances in later years – but even with relatively simple roles in this quaint comedy, they prove why they grew to the point of defining a particular era in the classical age of Hollywood, a period that benefitted endlessly from producing such fascinating, compulsively endearing actors.

The key to what makes Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife so successful is in the process it takes to unpacking the relationship that exists between these characters, who occur somewhere between fond comedic constructions and authentic individuals that represent a genuine version of reality. Undeniably, Lubitsch isn’t too concerned with logic – this is a film built almost entirely out of coincidences and flights of fancy, as was common with these romantic comedies at the time (and essentially a component of every entry into the genre since). However, there is something so simple about the execution, the delicate but inescapably funny way the director, in conjunction with the genius writers and the cast, construct this wonderful story. Perhaps it may often be as far-fetched as any screwball comedy, but there is a quality that is so visceral in what Lubitsch does here (and through all of his films) that points towards his utter brilliance. He can extract laughter from the most unexpected places, reframe the most simple scenarios as the setting for outrageously funny jokes, and transform the unassuming characters into the most upbeat and enduring protagonists, in whose journey we are so deeply engaged. We’re invested in this story, so much that we become active observers in the lives of these people as they gradually move through their environment. His ability to make absolutely everything both heartfelt and funny is further proof that Lubitsch was a true visionary, whereby even something as simple as Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife is repurposed into a film that is very close to a total masterpiece.

Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife represents Lubitsch at his peak – it’s not the film most associate with him immediately (with Ninotchka and Trouble in Paradise often being his most oft-referenced works), but was produced during his most prolific era, where every film was an absolute gem, each venture into a new story a refreshing adventure in narrative storytelling, and every new collaboration, whether behind or in front of the camera yielding fascinating results. Once you’re immersed in Lubitsch’s world, there is simply no comparison – the emotions are genuine, the storylines are rivetting and the humour is pitched to the most appropriate level, eliciting hearty laughter when it is necessary, but also not neglecting the more sombre moments that ground the film. As a whole, Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife is a terrific film – it is never overly complex, and consistently plays a game based around seeing how far it can stretch this simple premise without it falling apart. Obviously, it never does – instead, it just becomes more captivating, drawing us further into this world and facilitating several enthralling moments that draw laughter and provoke though, even if the premise isn’t particularly challenging on a deeper level. In no uncertain terms, Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife is a work of true brilliance, a quiet but resilient comedy that knows how to keep us engaged, even at its most conventional, with the legendary director at the helm of the film ensuring he steers it towards a point where we can’t help but be entirely charmed by this hilariously irreverent portrayal of romance and the class divide, which have never been more captivating than they are in this masterful film.