As is often the case with filmmakers that define an entire era of cinema, it is difficult to choose the standout in a director’s career when nearly everything they make has some incredible artistic relevance, so much so that it becomes a challenge to even compare their greatest works, since they are all magnificent and poignant in their own way, and are worth every bit of acclaim that they receive. It would take quite a while to go through the career of Ernst Lubitsch and find a complete failure, since while not every film he made was a resounding success, the vast majority of them had merits that unquestionably outweighed the flaws, even when when he was doing something slightly different or more abstract, these films were still very much grounded in his familiar, empathetic style. Angel is one of his more fascinating projects, not necessarily based on what it does or says, but rather the manner in which it conducts itself, in terms of both genre and tone, neither of which are outside of the esteemed director’s wheelhouse, but yet still feel oddly refreshing and quite different from his usual productions, being more of a voyage back into his earliest days of cinema, where he commanded the silent era with his precise and beautiful films. Telling the story of the wife of a wealthy diplomat who leads a comfortable but boring life until she meets a charming former soldier, whose presence causes her to feel quite a stir, much more than she ever got from her lovely but distant husband. A plot that is quite adherent to what Lubitsch was used to making, with screenwriters Samson Raphaelson and Frederick Lonsdale working laboriously to not only adapt the play by Melchior Lengyel, but also put together a script that moves this story along while still giving the director the space to experiment and place his distinctive traits into every frame, Angel is one of Lubitsch’s most underpraised films, a delightful and compelling romance that shows all the best qualities that the director came to represent, and a firm reminder of the reasons he is such a vitally important filmmaker, especially in relation to some of his contemporaries and the directors who he influenced over the years.

The premise is very much aligned with Lubitsch’s values and artistic curiosities, but it is executed with a slightly more subdued tone, which can take viewers by surprise, especially considering how we are initially led to believe that this was going to be yet another one of his masterful comedies, when in reality is a much more dramatic work, at least in execution. Lubitsch was a master of the genre, and while the contemporary view has been to associate him with hilarious films that embody the spirit of a very traditional comedy-of-manners, with eccentric characters and an interminable stream of wit and candour, we sometimes forget that his bread-and-butter was originally established with more dramatic works, films that focused less on humour and more on genuine human emotion. This isn’t to suggest that Angel is at all humourless, or that it is driven solely by more serious subject matter – in fact, this film is the perfect collision between the two main styles of filmmaking that we saw throughout the director’s career, with this adaptation combining the most gentle form of comedy with an earnest, forthright melodrama that is striking but never overwrought. In the process, the blending of these two very different styles allows the most gorgeous, visceral romance to emerge, with every interaction between these characters being so incredibly beautiful and outwardly entertaining in equal measure. There is a fragility to Angel, and it often feels as if it is simply gliding through air, these characters not necessarily being all that realistic, but still being extremely profound and always deeply compelling, which is not a combination that many of us would expect to be so powerful, but also wickedly funny. The film oscillates between different genres, but it is never jarring – the transitions are smooth and inconspicuous, and Lubitsch’s ability to stir up such strong emotions, whether those of joy or melancholy, is one of the many reasons he was one of our most important filmmakers.

There are certain actors that embody the spirit of a particular era so well, they become the foundation for entire cinematic movements, since there is something so beguiling about them, with many directors clamouring to work with them in some capacity. Few actors were more notable than Marlene Dietrich, who is perhaps one of the most iconic and important actors of the 1930s, not only because of her immense talent that was expressed in many films, but also her tendency to bridge the gap between the Hollywood mainstream and the arthouse – she was as much at ease in a lavish English-language costume drama as she was in an intimate, quiet European melodrama. Casting her in Angel essentially allowed half of the work to be done immediately, since there was very little chance she would not be endlessly committed to this role, bringing her striking elegance and incredible charm to every moment. Angel is the kind of comedy in which the humour is much more subtle, and it didn’t necessarily require actors known for bold expressions of levity, but rather those who could work with the shifting tone that encapsulates the overall film. This is essentially what defines Dietrich, both overall and in terms of the work she is doing in this film – she is as sophisticated as ever, but her vulnerability creates a truly memorable, meaningful character that is positively brimming with life, which allows for such a complex, intricate character study. She is joined by Melvyn Douglas and Herbert Marshall, who play her suitor and husband respectively, and while they are both fantastic and have impeccable chemistry with Dietrich, they are essentially just window-dressing for her performance, supplementing her incredible work by being nothing more than supporting characters. It may not be the most complex or layered work of Dietrich’s career, but under Lubitsch’s direction (their first and only such collaboration – Lubitsch had been a producer on Frank Borzage’s Desire the year previously, which likely spurred this collaboration), it becomes truly special in a number of ways.

While it is certainly tempting to constantly draw attention to the narrative and its emotional impact, or the brilliant actors tasked with bringing the story to life, it is equally important to note that Angel is a profoundly stylish film, which fits in perfectly with what we have come to expect from Lubitsch as a filmmaker. He was a superbly gifted storyteller, and while he often worked from scripts written by others, it was his approach that made these stories sing, regardless of the material he was working from. He usually employed fantastic writers, but their work would likely not make such a profound impact if it wasn’t filtered through the director’s curious and deeply captivating vision, which often is his most defining feature – Billy Wilder and countless other filmmakers, critics and scholars were certainly not being hyperbolic when describing the impact of the “Lubitsch Touch” and the effect it had on cinema over time. Not necessarily someone who saw the relevance in distinguishing between style and substance, he was always at the forefront of combining the two. Angel contains many of his most notable and fascinating directorial traits, and we often find his work being reflective of some deeper and more profound message, the kind that doesn’t usually find its way into contemporary cinema, but which still plays a part in how stories are told. Angel is one of the films in which Lubitsch showcases the fact that many of his traits earned during the silent era were still lingering, and factored into even his most verbose, dialogue-heavy productions. Beyond the stunning design of the film (which includes some of the most beautiful costumes ever donned by Marlene Dietrich), the film is a visual spectacle, although often in quite unexpected ways. Very often, we find his use of the human body to be most profound – the elegance with which he approaches this material is absolutely stunning, and we usually find that the silences that punctuate the interactions between the characters resound more than any of the spoken words, which are in themselves quite beautiful. There is never a wasted moment in Angel, which feels even the most vacant spaces with a delicate, earnest sense of honesty, the kind we don’t usually find when discussing most romantic comedies, which is precisely why, beyond being an exceptional film in its own right, Angel has a sense of profound importance both for the era in which it was made and for the future of the genre as a whole.

The journey into the heart of Angel is one that is both pleasant and very compelling, with Lubitsch once again proving that even when playing in a relatively minor key, he is capable of truly extraordinary, compelling work that can rival the peaks of any of his contemporaries, providing so much wit, nuance and complexity to otherwise very simple stories. He’s a director who knows precisely how to handle some challenging material, and his earnest attention to detail and ability to infuse every moment with such unimpeachable humanity is truly one of his most extraordinary traits as a filmmaker. It may not be his funniest film, nor the one with the most striking depiction of romance, but Angel is one of the director’s most detailed depictions of the human condition, focusing squarely on the concept of desire in a way that is earnest and quite beautiful, but also filled to the brim with wit and pathos, enough to propel the entire story, elevating it in ways that may be quite a surprise for some viewers, especially those who normally expected more outrageous comedies from the director. Defined by one of Dietrich’s most endearing performances, and driven by a sense of quiet rebellion and deep compassion, it is not difficult to see why Angel has garnered so much passion over the years. It may be best appreciated by those who have grown more accustomed to Lubitsch’s style, both in terms of the kinds of stories that drew his attention and the characters that were most fascinating to him, since it takes a level of understanding what compelled him as a filmmaker to realize the scope with which this film was produced. Effortlessly lovely and eternally charming, Angel is a masterful examination of love and desire, carefully created by truly one of the greatest filmmakers of his generation, a belief that is not only truthful, but perhaps an outright understatement.