Even if you knew nothing about von Stroheim and Dietrich you'd be able to tell just from watching this movie that the man was in love with at least the image of the woman. His camera almost seems to caress her at times and the lighting accentuates those incredible sculpted cheekbones. No other actress that I can think of received the kind of on-screen attention Dietrich received from von Stroheim, and he is probably more responsible for creating the legend than the woman was. Because, let's face it, Dietrich was no actress - her monotone delivery in this film borders on the excruciatingly bad at times
She plays a hooker, former wife of an Army officer, who is recruited into the secret service by its chief no less. The opening scenes are terrific. We first see Dietrich's legs on a rainy street, and hear the rain pounding on a broken drain as she adjusts a stocking. Someone in her block of flats has been murdered, and Dietrich's comment that she isn't afraid of life or death is overheard by the head of the secret service. She invites him up to her room, and while her profession is never expressly referred to, we're left in no doubt as to just how the former officer's life is making ends meet. She prowls around her cramped little flat, radiating sexual allure, and throws herself down in a chair with one leg over the arm in an open invitation.
It only becomes apparent that this is a love story between rival spies when we're well into the film. The opposing spy is big bluff Victor McLaglen who really is badly miscast. He grins during their verbal interplay as if an invisible hand has his arm twisted up behind his back while Dietrich rolls her eyes without moving her head, and there is absolutely no chemistry between them. The role called for an element of dashing suaveness on the part of McLaglen that the old boy simply didn't possess. Dietrich uses sex to lure him the same as she does with everyone else (again, in their first meeting, Dietrich offers him a kiss if she fails to predict the next number at roulette – and we're left in no doubt that 'kiss' is a euphemism for something much more earthy).
Despite these apparent drawbacks, the film is enjoyable enough. It's only 85 minutes long and moves at a fair old lick, and is filled with such cool devices as secret panels in walls, secret messages rolled up and hidden inside a cigarette, secret messages disguised as musical notes, noble suicides and firing squads. The ending's fairly downbeat for a mainstream 30s Hollywood flick, but it fails to qualify as a tragedy simply because of that lack of chemistry between the stars and the fact that there is no real depth to the characters.
She plays a hooker, former wife of an Army officer, who is recruited into the secret service by its chief no less. The opening scenes are terrific. We first see Dietrich's legs on a rainy street, and hear the rain pounding on a broken drain as she adjusts a stocking. Someone in her block of flats has been murdered, and Dietrich's comment that she isn't afraid of life or death is overheard by the head of the secret service. She invites him up to her room, and while her profession is never expressly referred to, we're left in no doubt as to just how the former officer's life is making ends meet. She prowls around her cramped little flat, radiating sexual allure, and throws herself down in a chair with one leg over the arm in an open invitation.
It only becomes apparent that this is a love story between rival spies when we're well into the film. The opposing spy is big bluff Victor McLaglen who really is badly miscast. He grins during their verbal interplay as if an invisible hand has his arm twisted up behind his back while Dietrich rolls her eyes without moving her head, and there is absolutely no chemistry between them. The role called for an element of dashing suaveness on the part of McLaglen that the old boy simply didn't possess. Dietrich uses sex to lure him the same as she does with everyone else (again, in their first meeting, Dietrich offers him a kiss if she fails to predict the next number at roulette – and we're left in no doubt that 'kiss' is a euphemism for something much more earthy).
Despite these apparent drawbacks, the film is enjoyable enough. It's only 85 minutes long and moves at a fair old lick, and is filled with such cool devices as secret panels in walls, secret messages rolled up and hidden inside a cigarette, secret messages disguised as musical notes, noble suicides and firing squads. The ending's fairly downbeat for a mainstream 30s Hollywood flick, but it fails to qualify as a tragedy simply because of that lack of chemistry between the stars and the fact that there is no real depth to the characters.