It’s a scenario we’ve all imagined – in that ambigious space between life and death, we are led into a room, where we are presented with a montage of our life, giving us the chance to reflect on the past, and determine which of the two afterlives will be our home for eternity. Whether it be in the realm of religious philosophy or art, it’s a concept that has existed longer than many popular ideas, being explored from many different perspectives over the years. In terms of literature, we’ve seen it become fertile ground for some incredibly captivating and enthralling works, mainly through the lens of comedy, since it’s somehow a subject that lends itself to a sweetly sentimental sense of humour. Comedic icons along the lines of Buck Henry and Albert Brooks staked their claim in these stories, but owe a considerable debt to Ernst Lubitsch, whose masterful Heaven Can Wait is not only quite possibly the definitive text on the subject, but amongst the greatest comedies ever made. The story of an elderly man being asked to recount his life’s story as a way of justifying his place in Hell is a simple but easy premise that is distinctly aligned with Lubitsch’s sensibilities, and the combination of humour and pathos in tandem leads to a film that is brimming with life, constructed with the fervent dedication of someone who truly and unequivocally believes in the power of changing minds through powerful tales of humanity, proving that there is nothing quite as powerful and effective as the human condition – and all of this is so beautifully condensed into absolutely every frame of this film, which remains one of the most evocative and moving comedies of its era, and a highly influential work in nearly every way.

Even without knowing that he is involved in the production, we can tell when Lubitsch is at the helm of a film. His warm direction, beautiful writing (which often consists of long passages of witty dialogue, and some deeply moving monologues) and incredibly endearing tone are all part of what is popularly referred to as “the Lubitsch Touch”, a concept that is undoubtedly always brought up when he is the subject of a conversation. Few filmmakers managed to master their field so much that their skills are filtered into a bespoke category all on their own (let alone inspiring some of the greatest filmmakers of their generation, such as Billy Wilder and Preston Sturges, both of whom cited Lubitsch as a major influence), and even less were known to deliver on their promise of well-crafted, meaningful storytelling with as much stark consistency as him. Heaven Can Wait is considered one of his very best works, and not without reason – there is nothing that this film lacks. The writing is as sharp and meaningful as ever, and perfectly balanced humour and pathos with the attention to detail that we have come to expect from Lubitsch, and the tone is incredibly complex and exciting, especially in comparison to other comedies from around this time. Consider that it seamlessly blends a hilarious comedy-of-manners with a sentimental story that evokes feelings of the majestic and fantastical, and we can start to see precisely why Heaven Can Wait has come to be seen as a major work of comedy in the Golden Age of Hollywood, an era where some of the more formative names in the genre were finding their voice – and Lubitsch stood supreme among them, an elder statesman of the industry that had persisted from the silent era, bringing with him the kind of nuance that not too many filmmakers have ever been able to achieve, compressing them into every one of his films, and producing work of an undeniably impeccable calibre, without seemingly missing a single beat.

It would not be a Lubitsch film without the marvellous performances, and Heaven Can Wait certainly boasts some of the best. The director had a knack for populating his films with remarkable actors, and this is not an exception. Don Ameche holds court as the main protagonist, a painfully ordinary New York City socialite who was born into wealth, and remained there for almost his entire life, actively growing bored of the various machinations that come with being in the high society, yearning for something better. The character of Henry Van Cleve is not an easy role, since not only was it a physically taxing assignment for any actor in terms of the amount of work he needed to do to bring the character to life, but it also required someone who could play the role at various ages, from a spry young man to a decrepit senior on his death-bed. In the hands of a less-gifted actor, the role would have been far less impressive (and we’ve seen many of the greatest actors of their generation struggle with such roles – consider Dustin Hoffman in Little Big Man, a film that hinged on his ability to convincingly play the character across his life, but ultimately fell short), but Ameche rises to the occasion and produces something absolutely tremendous. It is undeniably his film and no one else manages to have a character even partially as impressive as his – but this doesn’t mean that the likes of Laird Cregar (a truly underrated performer who would have been amongst our greatest actors had he not met an untimely demise) and Gene Tierney, make invaluable contributions to this fascinating ensemble, which may be there to supplement Ameche, but are all strong in their own way.

Over time, nearly everything written about Lubitsch’s work can ultimately be condensed down into how he was such a gifted writer, someone who could evoke humour from absolutely every situation. This is objectively true, since his screenplays are amongst the greatest in the history of the medium. However, something that is not so widely discussed is the fact that his films are works of immense compassion, featuring a warmth that is unlike anything produced by his contemporaries or those he inspired. Watching one of his films is akin to being submerged in the most endearing, captivating worlds imaginable, and it is all concocted through his immense talents and ability to present an image of our species that is generous and beautifully woven together. He is not averse to pointing out our foibles or flaws, and many of his films feature characters with enormous shortcomings. Yet, they all feel so real and complex, which indicates how well-constructed the director’s vision was, whereby he could sew together many different ideas, each one developing on the last, without losing that important strands of meaning that anchor these stories within reality. The emotions at the heart of Heaven Can Wait are extraordinarily pure and complex, and showcase a director whose writing was only the gateway to two hours of absolutely rivetting storytelling, where the most humane and compassionate humour was put on display, buttressed by a deeply meaningful analysis of the more intricate details of everyday life, which in turn resonates with audiences across temporal and geographical boundaries.

Heaven Can Wait is a beautiful example of the comedy inherent to everyday life, and a perfect reminder of how Lubitsch was able to capture the human condition on film in a way that was rigorous and endearing, without being too sentimental. There’s a feeling of comfort that comes from the very first moment we step over the threshold into Lubitsch’s world, and we find a wealth of detail and complexity awaiting us on the other side, helmed by a director who is inviting us to take in the sights and sounds of the environment he has so meticulously constructed for us. This film in particular is quite adept at exploring such ideas, with its incredible approach to a range of themes, such as the broken promises of the American Dream, the jagged social structure that governs the culture, and the inherent challenges with falling in love in a time when most were marrying for status rather than for romance, only consolidates it as one of the most enduring films of its era. Hilarious and heartwarming in equal measure, grounded by some terrific performances from actors who take the time to carefully interpret the director’s masterful screenplay (which was transformed from a Hungarian play known as “Birthday” by Leslie Bush-Fekete), and made with a particular attention to detail, Heaven Can Wait is an absolute triumph, and one of the best comedies to ever make its way across a cinema screen.