Design for Living

Reviewed by J. Lunden on December 6, 2011

Before the Hays Code shortened Hollywood’s leash in the early 1930s, films like Design for Living scandalized movie houses with sophisticated gaiety and progressive sexual exploits. Thankfully, the concerned citizens behind The Motion Picture Production Code stepped in to shield all good Americans from salacious cinema. Just think, if they hadn’t, we might now live in a world where every man, woman and child had instant access to an infinite library of violence and pornography . . . and cat videos. The horror. All kidding aside, the late 20s and early 30s vibrated with titillating, envelope-seducing cinema. And Design for Living is a perfect example of the often overlooked wealth that Pre-Code Hollywood offers.

Directed by Ernst Lubitsch (Trouble in Paradise) and adapted from Noel Coward’s play by the great screenwriter Ben Hecht, Design for Living tells the story of two American artists (a painter and a playwright) who both fall for the same reckless muse. George (the painter, played by an atypically loquacious Gary Cooper) and Thomas (the playwright, played by Fredric March) encounter Gilda (the muse, played by Miriam Hopkins) on a train bound for Paris. The opening scene, which involves clunky French, art criticism and hurled insults, is one of cinema’s best meet-cutes. Both George and Thomas begin wooing Gilda, both believing they’ve exclusive rights to her affections. After a few months of parallel courtships—with Gilda in the unconventional role of juggler—the spirited, bohemian trio eventually enter into an enlightened, if somewhat begrudged, ménage à trois. Think of it like a tame Jules et Jim.

The sexual tension between the leads is far too orchestrated to be considered genuinely erotic, at least by today’s standards, but their chemistry is undeniable. I found myself tapping in time with Lubitsch and Hecht’s “adaptation” (only a few lines of Coward’s original dialogue remain intact), relishing its smirking magnetism, cheeky bucking of societal conventions, and the way the film’s glamorous leads skip and slide from one risqué conceit to the next, hardly pausing from Hecht’s rat-a-tat dialogue for a moment’s breath.

Design for Living remains a fluffy, but wonderfully charming farce about the lighter side of promiscuity. Hey, that’s not bad. Can you imagine that tagline on the film’s poster, right under Gary Cooper’s name? Yeah, me neither. Though, the original tagline was pretty brassy: “A screen play about three people who loved each other very much.” Not too shabby for 1933.

Design for Living comes to Blu-ray in its original standard aspect ratio of 1.33:1. The transfer utilizes the AVC codec, takes up 27GB of space on the disc, and has a video bitrate of 35.05Mbps.

The 35mm elements used for this transfer have seen better days. Damage, especially deep scratches, remains throughout. However, I believe this current state represents a strong restoration effort. That is, Criterion did the best they could with what they had. Most of the trouble spots float by with little distraction, leaving splendid black and white images when the damage clears. Detail wavers, but is generally good. Black levels are strong and the film’s grain structure is present and accurate.

Design for Living is presented here with a 24-bit uncompressed English monaural track at 1152Kbps.

While there is a base layer of hiss to the monaural track, dialogue is clean and clear. There are very few instances of popping, cracking or other such distortions. Ambient sound and music is balanced and never overwhelming.

Selected-Scene Commentary by William Paul (35min):
In the place of a traditional commentary is this selected-scene commentary by William Paul, author of “Ernst Lubitsch American Comedy.” The commentary is presented more like a featurette, with visual analysis and comparisons to other Lubitsch’s films.

The Clerk (3min):
Here we have Lubitsch’s contribution for the 1932 omnibus If I Had a Million, which starred Charles Laughton.

Joseph McBride: The Screenplay (24min):
Scholar and writer Joseph McBride discusses the history of the screenplay and the eventual involvement of Ben Hecht.

Play of the Week: A Choice of Coward (75min):
Here we have a rare treat. Included is the full production of Noel Coward’s original play, as aired on ITV in 1964. The feature is introduced by Coward and is an invaluable resource for comparing the play to Lubitsch’s adaptation.

Booklet:
Included is a booklet featuring an essay by film critic Kim Morgan.

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