Memorable dialogue in The Good Fairy

One of the best things about The Good Fairy is the dialogue. Earlier when I looked back on the film, I found so many great lines and the delivery of those lines were equally as great. It's hard to picture the film being told otherwise. In fact, I read that Preston Sturges based his script rather loosely from the play by Ferenc Molnár, and I believe it because I find it hard to believe any other writer could be responsible for a character like Detlaff.

A very important use of dialogue comes at the very beginning of the film and it set the tone right away. The exchange between Shlapkohl and the young orphan girl who answers the door is a misunderstanding that turns silly at the end. This interaction in itself is what screwball comedy is about: the misunderstanding which eventually leads to a conflict that develops across the film. In this particular case, the misunderstanding doesn't do that, but when the misunderstanding continues and the orphan girl nods that she understands in spite of the tripping-up of words, she goes on to call Shlapkohl ma'am instead of sir. What does this tell us? While the current setting is at an orphan asylum, and it is terrible to see all those girls of all ages without parents, this film isn't going to be Oliver Twist.

Perhaps my favorite exchange comes later on at the party when Detlaff shows up at Konrad's private room to check up on Luisa but under the guise to take their order. What follows between them is the most ridiculous bit of words in the film. Konrad orders lobster soup, Detlaff informs him that the chef doesn't know how to make any sort of soup. Konrad asks about the fish, Detlaff informs him it must've gone bad because the ice in the packaging melted along the way to the hotel from the channel. And what about the lamb dish? Why, it's leathery. How can lamb be leathery? Because Detlaff suspects it must be goat. Throughout this entire exchange Konrad grows more irritated by the second, while Detlaff keeps a straight stern face and agrees with Konrad that there's nothing first class about the hotel except the prices. This bit made me laugh so much, yes it drags on, but the execution of it is great.

Aside from some great laughs, dialogue is used to convey important bits of information to the plot. When Luisa is introduced, she is climbing up a ladder to put away dishes, meanwhile she tells the younger girls a story about a Good Fairy. The screwballiness comes in when at the top of the ladder she takes a broom and bounces up and down repeating,

“Wampa wampa, Wumpa wumpa, Eenie meenie minie mo; Sweet and faithful Rosalinda, Take me where I want to go.”

This introduction of a clumsy Luisa is another memorable moment in the film, but it also serves as an important point. Later, when asked how she'd behave if let out into the real world, if she'd do her good deed, she joins hands with the little girls and recites an oath about doing good deeds. So, when the innocent Luisa is caught in the predicament with Konrad, who wants to spoil her with riches and furs, and jewels, and things, lots of expensive things, and he decides to do so via her non-existant husband, it's only natural for her to think that by allowing Konrad to make her non-existent husband rich, she is doing her good deed for a poor lawyer out there who really needs it. And how does she pick this husband? By repeating the "Wampa wampa" speech over a phonebook. This idea of the Good Fairy is something Luisa keeps coming back to in the second half of the film. What does she use as her defense in the last sequence of the film? The Good Fairy defense, she was simply trying to do her good deed.

In this last sequence we also get to see something that is kind of a callback to an earlier scene in the film. Earlier, when Luisa is first starting out as an usherette, she hangs back and watches the film playing on the screen. In this great Go scene as I like to call it, a couple is in the midst of a break-up. All he keeps saying is for her to, "Go!" And all she does is protest, "surely you don't mean it, Meredith. Oh, Meredith!" And while the audience is either sleeping or crying or gets up and leaves, this scene on the screen continues without getting very far. I'm not doing it any justice here by explaining it, because it's really meant to be watched. Sturges wrote a great scene here, parodying the average romantic film. Back to the last sequence, once you reach the end of The Good Fairy, Luisa leaves Dr Sporum's apartment, knowing she's made a mess of things and thinking Dr Sporum will want nothing to do with her again. But once she's on her way out, Dr Sporum gets up and calls after her and says, "Don't go!" The opposite of what happens in the earlier dull melodramatic film playing in the theatre where Luisa works at. The Good Fairy is a fast and entertaining film that gives great laughs and the happy couple ends up together and married in the end.

I think I've gone on and on about Sturges as I've looked back on the film, and the truth of it is that I put more weight on the writers. A script is the backbone to the film, get one part faulty and the whole thing won't work or worse it'll fall apart. I think taking a look at the dialogue is a great example of that. It's very entertaining and smart, allowing you to see the pay-offs at the end of the film. It sets the tone and makes The Good Fairy every bit as much a Preston Sturges film as it is a William Wyler one.

In an all-girls orphanage

One of the things I wanted to focus on again was the opening of The Good Fairy. Establishing the premise and getting to the point of the story is important in order to be a successfully entertaining film and things are no different here. And while William Wyler is the director of this film, I have to give credit to Preston Sturges because he wrote the script and from the moment a character opens her mouth, it is quite apparent that this is a Preston Sturges screwball comedy.

The opening of the film takes place in the orphanage in which the main character Luisa lives. It's quite sad and dreary-looking. It begins without saying anything but instead showing girls of all ages playing and working together. It almost looked like a commune, which I suppose in a certain sense it is. But what is it that sets this apart from other stories about orphans? It's anything but ordinary. A doorbell rings and a little girl heads for it hurriedly to answer, and the exchange that follows is quite funny, in which people jumble up words and end up saying strange things with straight faces.

The thing about Sturges' dialogue that stands out is that it's not just that it's hilarious, but it's ridiculous. And then the actors themselves deliver the lines as a matter of fact, this is the way things are, you can't help but laugh. But what makes this opening even more standout is that Sturges takes these characters who are quite innocent and naïve but he exaggerates it to move the story forward. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The simple dialogue exchange between Dr Schultz and Shlapkohl establishes from the start the screwballiness of the situation. There have already been misunderstanding with Shlapkohl assuming Dr Schultz is a man, but in their conversation he gets straight to the point. While she wonders if the pants of the uniform are too tight, he says it all depends on the girl. And the truth of it is you have to watch the film, because I don't do it any justice repeating the lines of dialogue.

Soon enough, we meet Luisa, up on top of the ladder, telling fairy stories to the younger girls--this story being essential to the plot of the film. And while she entertains the girls, she sets herself up for a pratfall in which she hangs from the a swinging light fixture from the ceiling and then falls flat on the floor, but still all right. When she's asked if she wants to be an usherette. She agrees, but doesn't know what one is--once again reminding not just Shlapkohl, but the audience how innocent these girls are. Doesn't matter because Shlapkohl is sold. He wants her wrapped up to take home, and he literally says that.

In this brief introduction, Sturges and William Wyler have set up not just the tone of the film, but also set in place essential plot points to the story. The story of the Good Fairy doing her daily good deed, the innocence of Luisa in a world she's only seen from behind the gates of the orphanage, all of it is there before the first ten minutes. But what's most satisfying of it all is that it's thoroughly enjoying and silly. You know that Luisa out in the world will surely find some adventures and that it'll make you laugh the following hour and half away.

Trouble in Venice

I took some time to sit down and go over Trouble in Paradise again. I only got so far as the opening scene, but here are some thoughts.

I think part of the why Trouble in Paradise doesn’t seem like the typical screwball comedy to me at first is because of its slower pace. I expect and even want the dialogue to be as quick as Hildy and Walter’s exchanges in His Girl Friday, but it’s more even paced instead. This might be because the screwball comedy was still in its early stages. The Hays code is what really forced the genre to evolve into what we know it to be. And so, the dialogue seems quieter, the film not so much screwbally, characters aren’t that eccentric. But I digress.

In an article from the New York Observer that Peter Bogdanovich wrote, I read how Ernst Lubitsch didn’t want to open the scene with a typical view of Venice. He wasn’t going to go forward until he found the right opening. He ended up with the Italian man collecting trash and putting it on the gondola and moving on while singing passionately at the top of his voice. This opening put me off the very first time I watched it. In hindsight I see its importance in setting the mood since what proceeds is a view from a hotel room with an unconscious man on the floor and in the shadows another man fleeing from the balcony. If you were to begin the film with typical night scenes of Venice and then the hotel room, you might think the film to be thriller. I don’t believe you would know it’s a comedy unless you had read a brief synopsis. So Lubitsch is setting the mood here, this is a comedy and you’re going to have to deal with trash. Because, it’s kind of trashy, people so obsessed with getting money or simply wasting money away. In fact, it’s down right comical, which is what the film ends up showing.

There’s a hint from the beginning about Gaston not really being a Baron. There’s a leaf on his jacket which the waiter finds. How did it get there? What could he have been doing to end up with a leaf on himself? And why didn’t he even notice it? Wouldn’t he have brushed away any lingering lints by this point? Or, the question I wondered upon first viewing, was he the one in the shadows in the balcony of the hotel room?

Herbert Marshall is completely charming and I can never get over that when I see him in this performance. He delivers his lines in both charming and laughable ways. You know he’s full of it, but you can’t help but smile every time.

Now, Miriam Hopkins is hilarious as Lily. Especially in this scene as she overacts. She’s so good at performing badly if that makes any sense. She has a great sense of comedic timing, which is most true when she flashes one of her faces.

The phone call with Lily’s roommate always bothers me because it kind of depresses me. It brings me down to reality and to be honest I wish it had been done differently. Sure, at this point we realize Lily’s not the Countess, but it just looks so drab and real and all I could think of was how depressing Lily’s real life really is. The roommate is depressing and in a screwball comedy there should be no depression! That’s why we’re there watching!

There are the Italians. Now, I don’t know any Italian, but I can understand some words. And I wondered, and I always wonder this every time I see it, whether or not they really are speaking Italian. I think I ask myself this because here we do see that fast-talking that I’ve come to associate with the genre and it just seems so comical that I wonder if it really is the real thing.

Finally, as Lily and Gaston are beginning to uncover the truth of who the other really is, Gaston stands up from the table and goes over to the door and locks them both in. We know Lily has taken the wallet and the accompanying music sounds a bit menacing. The tension builds as Gaston approaches Lily and then he forces her to stand and shakes her silly until the wallet falls to the ground. He proceeds to pick it up and puts it away in his jacket, and the two continue with their dinner. At this point, if you didn’t know what kind of film this would be, surely you should know by now. And a thriller it is not.

Some of the lines I like in this scene, “I want to see that moon in the champagne. … and as for you waiter … I don’t want to see you at all,” and also, “Baron, I shouldn’t have come,” which neither sound nearly as funny now that I’ve written them down, but really it’s the delivery of them from Marshall and Hopkins that make them funny.

I think the most important thing to take away from this scene when considering the screwball comedy is not just the dialogue but the setting of tone. I appreciate that Lubitsch didn’t want to go on without setting the right mood. He didn’t want to trick you into thinking this was a romantic thriller of sorts. This scene is about the ridiculousness of two thieves stealing from each other and falling in love in the process. And if you really think about it, that’s pretty screwball.