Bluebeard's Eighth Wife (1938) Reviews

• Colbert and Cooper Shine in Lubitsch's most Under-Appreciated Comedy

  EightyProof452003-10-04

  There is something about seeing a movie in a good, old-fashioned movie house that adds enormous appeal to every picture. I, fortunately enough, was able to see at Film Forum in New York City a pair of Ernst Lubitsch comedies during their three week tribute to the legendary director. The double feature I attended was a screening of Lubitsch's 1938 comedy Bluebeard's Eighth Wife and the pre-Code classic Design for Living, neither of which I had seen before. Everything I read of Design for Living praised the film, but I could not find a good review anywhere for Bluebeard's Eighth Wife. Leonard Maltin disliked it.VideoHound, too, gave the comedy a low rating.its IMDB score was not complimentary.and Pauline Kael (not a great surprise) blasted the film in her scathing review. So, when I went into the city that day I was expecting to enjoy Bluebeard's Eighth Wife only slightly and love Design for Living completely. Bluebeard's Eighth Wife (which was showing first) began, as the eccentrics who populate the cinema took their seats and the thirties music subsided. `Adolph Zukor presents Claudette Colbert and Gary Cooper in Ernst Lubitsch's Bluebeard's Eighth Wife,' the title card read. Then the picture opened with a hilarious scene: Cooper wants to buy a pair of pajama tops, but he doesn't want any part of the bottoms! He gets into a squabble with the clerk, who seeks the help of his higher bosses, and their seems to be no end to the argument. Enter Claudette Colbert, one of thirties cinema's most beautiful, charming, and talented personalities. `I'll take the bottom,' she kindly intercedes. And there you have perhaps screwball comedies finest `meet cute' ever. The film kept my interest wonderfully.I found myself laughing almost constantly. When Colbert discovers, just before a family portrait is taken, that her groom-to-be has been married seven times, the entire theatre broke into histerics. When she bargains for money immediately after she gets over her shock, the laughs (which still haven't ceased) intensify. And Edward Everett Horton milked some hilarious reactions out of the script as well. When Cooper takes inspiration from Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew in disciplining his wife by slapping her in the face, I could not control my laughter when she slapped him back. And the drunk scene with the scallions is one of Claudette Colbert's funniest comic scenes. The greatest comic moment of the film came when Colbert highers a boxer to `teach her husband a lesson.' In pure screwball fashion, he knocks out the wrong man, instead putting her friend David Niven into a cold sleep. He awakes as Cooper is arriving. In order to cover up the situation, Colbert herself, in a moment of strong sexiness, puts her fist up to Niven, asks: `Where did that man hit you? Here? Right here? Right here?' and then BAM! knocks him out again! The film was wonderful, from beginning to end it was a perfect delight. I loved Design for Living, too, though I dare say I think for sheer laughs and entertainment Bluebeard's Eighth Wife was the better and more enjoyable film. There is some charm of seeing a vintage film on the large screen. And in the presence of others laughing, one feels more comfortable doing so himself. That is, perhaps, why I felt the way I did about Bluebeard's Eighth Wife.

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• The Pajama Game

  writers_reign2005-07-28

  For some perverse reason best known to themselves these IMDb boards seem reluctant to credit the great Billy Wilder as co-scriptwriter on at least two (this one and Ninotchka) of his early classics when any buff can detect the Wilder hand at work. As it happens this represented the first time he was teamed with Charles Brackett (who DOES get a credit) and it was a great start. One commenter has noted how satisfying it is to see these type of films in old-fashioned cinemas and I couldn't agree more. In Paris one of the smaller Revival houses shows in one of its salles a more or less continuous Lubitsch retrospective and I'm pleased to report that this played to a very appreciative audience right across the age spectrum though I doubt whether any were actually alive when it was first released in 1938. The famous Wilder schtick the meet-cute is particularly tasty here when millionaire but-careful-with-it Cooper attempts to buy half a set of pajamas in a department store on the Riviera and meets with sales resistance until Claudette Colbert turns up and agrees to buy the other half. The gag is milked even more when, having exhausted the chain of command at the store itself the manager places a call to the owner, who is in bed and leaves it to reveal that he, too, is only wearing the top half of pajamas. The film is full of sight-gags like this balanced with verbal wit which makes it just about perfect. Claudette Colbert is only terrific and gets great backing from Edward Everett Horton as her impoverished titled father. David Niven in fourth billing has some funny 'business' as does Franklin Pangborn and if Gary Cooper is not up to his role lacking as he does the verbal dexterity and sophisticated persona that Wilder scripts called for at this stage of his career well, you can't have everything and what you DO have is darned near perfect.

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• Shaving A Bluebeard

  bkoganbing2006-09-23

  Years before pre-nuptial agreements became a regular thing, Ernest Lubitsch made a screen comedy on which they are the basis. Bluebeard's Eighth Wife involves Gary Cooper as a multi-millionaire living on the French Riviera who's been married seven times and now marries Claudette Colbert for number eight. But Cooper's a good sport about it, he always settles with his ex-wives for a $50,000.00 a year as per an agreement they sign before marrying him. Sounds like what we now call a pre-nuptial agreement. Of course Claudette wants a lot more than that and she feels Cooper takes an entirely too business like approach to marriage. She'd like the real deal and is willing to go some considerable lengths to get it. Bluebeard's Eighth Wife has some really funny moments, the original meeting of Cooper and Colbert in a men's store where Cooper is insisting he wants only pajama tops and Colbert looking for only bottoms. And of course my favorite is Colbert trailing and blackmailing the detective Cooper sends to spy on her. Herman Bing has the best supporting role in the film as that selfsame, flustered detective. I've often wondered how back in the day Hollywood could get away with casting so many people who are non-French in a film like this. Of course Cooper is an American and Colbert of the cast is the only one actually of French background. Though David Niven is charming as always, having him be a Frenchman is ludicrous, he is sooooooo British. Nevertheless Bluebeard's Eighth Wife is an enjoyable film and a great example of what was called 'the Lubitsch touch' back in the day.

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• "No That is Communism"

  theowinthrop2005-11-27

  This film reappeared on channel 13 in the 1990s when they did a series of comedies from Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s. In fact, to the tune of "The Jolly Fat Policeman", they had a montage of scenes from the films to introduce the series of people laughing, including one of Gary Cooper chortling when watching a film in a movie house - a sequence from this film. It all begins innocently enough when Cooper, a millionaire, goes into a fancy department store in France to buy pajamas. But he only likes to sleep in the tops. The clerk (Tyler Brooke) insists that he cannot sell half a pair of pajamas as Cooper wants. Claudette Colbert hears the argument and offers to help - she only likes to sleep in pajama bottoms. What if Brooke sells them each half? Brooke has never had such an offer before, so he goes to the floor walker (Rolfe Sedan) and asks him if this can be done. He is disturbed too - the request is quite unconventional. Eventually they contact the store's owner (Charles Halton). Halton is in bed, and gets out - his skinny frame supporting only a pajama top (if a suitably long one for the sake of censorship). Can they sell the two customers one set of pajamas (half for each)? Properly horrified, Halton answers, "No, of course not! That is Communism!!". So the sale is not allowed. Apparently nobody thinks that Cooper can buy the total pair and sell half to Colbert. Lubitsch's BLUEBEARD'S EIGHTH WIFE has had a reputation of falling flat, most viewers not liking it because of a misreading of Colbert's character. She is seen as quite mercenary towards Cooper - selling herself to him on her terms. Actually Cooper's character is the nastier, as he is rich and figures that everything has a price. He is correct most of the time. Look at the way Colbert's aristocratic pauper of a father, Edward Everett Horton, sees his new son-in-law as a golden goose he can use. Cooper's willingness to marry Colbert somehow includes an agreement that if he is hesitant or chooses to not marry her he has to pay damages. Horton, when he realizes this, takes out a watch, and (in a most reassuring voice) says to Cooper - "Take your time my boy!", to come to a decision. Later we see Horton's wardrobe has gotten more modern and fancier. The film, script by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett, compares well with their script for Mitchell Leisin's MIDNIGHT (also with Colbert, but with Don Ameche and John Barrymore). There Colbert is willing to sell herself for a money marriage to (to Francis Lederer), but it is complicated by a fictitious marriage to Ameche. She really loves Ameche (a taxi driver) but she explains to him in an unexpectedly realistic moment that her parents married "for love" but poverty made them grow to hate each other. This is not found in BLUEBEARD'S EIGHTH WIFE, where Colbert does not have a background like that (she is, after all, the daughter of a Marquis). Her mercenary plotting is to teach Cooper a lesson about his standards. The film has some nice work by the supporting staff, including Herman Bing as a private eye who turns out to be hiding things that Colbert learns about, and a young David Niven, who has a set of choice moments as a stand in punching bag and as a willing ear to Cooper. Coop tells Niven about his problems with Colbert, and how she is so infuriating. Niven listens respectfully. At the end, Cooper is touched by his willingness to hear what he had to say. "Albert, how much do I pay you?", Cooper asks him. Niven thinks and says, "Thirty five francs a week sir.". Cooper looks deeply into his soul, and says (shaking his head), "That's fair!"

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• Not the best these talents have done, but still entertaining

  AlsExGal2016-09-17

  An Ernst Lubitsch comedy, co-scripted by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett, which has always been generally dismissed by critics and fans alike. Perhaps with the film's reputation as a lesser effort those who sit down to view it will be pleasantly surprised to find it an agreeable affair, anyway. Gary Cooper plays a seven times married American businessman millionaire who finds that with wife no. 8 (Claudette Colbert) he may have met his match. She has made him agree to a pre nuptial agreement of paying her $100,000 should there be a divorce and then makes him spend much of the marriage unhappy and wishing he hadn't signed that agreement. While the film is never as funny or clever as the best of Lubitsch, it still has its moments. The film is remembered primarily for the scene in which Colbert and Cooper "meet cute" as they agree to split a pair of pajamas in a department store. But there are other moments, too, such as the scene in which Cooper, inspired by having just read Taming of the Shrew, bursts out of his room, walks with great macho determination and accompanying soundtrack drum roll down a hallway, enters a room where Colbert stands and slaps her across the face. She responds by slapping him back and Cooper, perplexed by this unexpected turn of events, leaves the room, walks back through that same hallway to his room again and picks up the book to try to figure out what he did wrong. Like all Lubitsch productions this film has a graceful air of sophistication, with a physical elegance in its sets and photography. Colbert is an old hand at frothy material like this while Cooper, cast against type, plays his role with obvious enthusiasm. He's a far cry from the Cooper we're used to seeing on screen in the scene in which he plays a piano while singing "Looky, looky, looky, Here comes Cookie" to Claudette. The supporting cast is first rate, all of them deft performers: a young David Niven, and old pro character actors Edward Everett Horton and Herman Bing. English mangling, beer barrel shaped Herman Bing is the unlikeliest of detectives, hired by Cooper to follow his wife to see if she has any lovers. "Don't forget," he tells the millionaire, "we are a first class firm. You will find that out when you get our bill." Recommended as middling production code era Paramount fare.

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