Grand Hotel

Grand Hotel: where the action behind the camera is as equally entertaining as the movie itself.

Just as the disparate characters are linked by their stay at the hotel, so too are the actors tied to the production—a meta portmanteau. Bloated egos drive bad behavior as the stars jockey for position, each having their own story to tell. Joan Crawford, the better actor, can’t get Greta Garbo to acknowledge her as they pass each other in the halls. Hence, Crawford finds satisfaction in playing records of Marlene Dietrich, knowing full well that Garbo intensely dislikes the woman. With the threat of Crawford running away with the picture, Garbo later films more scenes to get equal time.

As for the film, Greta Garbo portrays an unstable waning ballet dancer. I come to the realization that maybe the instability isn’t just an act. She is strange and a little frightening. To add to that, her close ups are lit from above so that her celebrated lengthy eyelashes cast shadows upon her cheeks.

John Barrymore, with his theatrical background, keeps himself in check and performs fairly understatedly--until his scenes with Greta, where he throws caution to the wind. Their mutual affection for each other spills onto the celluloid and I sit back and say, “Well, would you look at that!”

My biggest delight comes from the man who plays Otto Kringelein.  All my life, Lionel Barrymore was Mr. Potter. It was how I was introduced to him and how every Christmas I would meet him again. During the movie I keep wondering, “How can this be Mr. Potter?” The actor completely immerses himself into the awkward, humble, little pencil pusher. He’s the kind of man George Bailey would have championed.  Mr. Barrymore, I am now anxious to study you further.