Review #1,399: 'The Scarlet Empress' (1934)

With the Motion Picture Production Code or, to give it its more popular name, the Hays Code, introduced in 1930 to ensure that cinema didn't corrupt the morals of the American populace, many directors came up with ingenious ways to find loopholes in the code, or employ cinematic trickery to create an illusion of what the Hays Code considered amoral. Some directors, however, seemed to ignore the Code completely, and somehow got away with it. Josef von Sternberg's The Scarlet Empress, a deliberately provocative piece celebrating the sexual freedom of one of history's most enigmatic figures, Catherine the Great, seems to go out of its way to annoy the censors, yet the film remained miraculously untampered with. To say that von Sternberg takes liberties with his artistic license would be a vast understatement, but The Scarlet Empress was the director's "relentless excursion into style," to quote the great man himself.

If this was made today by the BBC, I'm sure that Ofcom would struggle to deal with the scale of complaints. The film begins with Sophia Frederica (Marlene Dietrich), the young and beautiful daughter of a German prince, who is summoned to Russia by the Empress Elizabeth Petrovna (Louise Dresser) to produce an heir for the Grand Duke Peter (Sam Jaffe). She is informed by the handsome, womanising Count Alexei (John Lodge) that the Grand Duke is strong and handsome, with thick locks of ebony hair. Of course, this isn't the case, and when Sophia finally arrives at her new home, Peter emerges as a grinning halfwit unfit to father a child and even less suitable to wear the crown. Renamed Catherine by the Empress, the seemingly wide-eyed innocent bride-to-be embarks on an affair with the rogueish Alexei, and turns her seductive eyes to the soldiers of the Russian army. While the Grand Duke is busy drilling holes into the wall of his mother's bedroom with twisted Freudian curiosity, Catherine starts to plan her ascension.

Every scene is a feast for the eyes, with lavish interiors, fetishistic costumes, suggestive shadows and doors so thick and heavy they require a run-up to close them dominating every frame. It suggests an oppressive, backwards country in real need of new ideals. The tables, walls and chairs are all sculpted to portray monstrous figures: some are gargoyles, and some seem to be people contorted in the grips of death. It's a horrible place, and von Sternberg chooses to juxtapose this with Catherine's sexuality, as her confidence and desire increase with every scene. The way von Sternberg does this is undeniably seductive, further sensationalised by his obsession with Dietrich's flawless face. You wouldn't be able to tell if she is even a good actress from this, as von Sternberg often chooses to express the character's feelings without the need for dialogue. A long, lingering look through a closing door suggests a burgeoning desire, and the flickering of a candle as Catherine's breathing becomes heavier shows her lust. How The Scarlet Empress didn't cause more of a stir I'll never know, but we are better off for it. If you want a quick-fire history lesson then check Wikipedia, but if you seek a rich, gothic atmosphere mixed in with thick layers of eroticism and rich, exquisitely-detailed visuals, then this ticks all the boxes.


Directed by: Josef von Sternberg
Starring: Marlene Dietrich, John Lodge, Sam Jaffe, Louise Dresser, C. Aubrey Smith
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie