The Shop Around the Corner (1940, Ernst Lubitsch) (Patreon)

86/100

Second viewing, last seen 1997. A friend predicted that I'd be less enamored of it now, and I think I understand why: Mr. Kralik's behavior toward Ms. Novak verges on sadistic in the home stretch, as he manipulates her into buying him the Christmas gift he wants and then concocts an elaborate false story about her penpal that's designed to make himself look desirable by comparison. It's admittedly a bit one-sided (and I now wonder whether You've Got Mail, which I've never seen, provides Meg Ryan's character with an opportunity for turnabout—surely a 2019 remake would), but (a) the "abuse" is playful; (b) that there's Jimmy Gotdamn Stewart (who's always more interesting when devious, but still difficult to dislike); and, crucially, (c) Klara ultimately reveals that she'd been combative and distant as an attempted seduction ploy all along, having apparently read some pre-WWII equivalent of The Rules. Because I'd completely forgotten that, I spent much of the movie thinking "Man, these two people genuinely do not like each other," and at one point was firmly convinced that the happy ending I knew was forthcoming would feel quite false. Simply don't buy the notion that flowery correspondence speaks more to a couple's compatibility than does face-to-face vitriol. So it was a balm to hear Klara aptly summarize the situation: "Psychologically, I'm very confused. But personally, I don't feel bad at all." Plus Kralik has to show off his spindly (but unbowed) legs prior to the final clinch, which counts as a revenge of sorts.

What really surprised me, though, was how much of The Shop Around the Corner isn't a romantic comedy. Kralik +/vs. Novak is certainly its primary narrative motor, but Matuschek & Co.'s other employees are by no means expendable extras. Frank Morgan makes Matuschek a pitiable figure, his bluster disguising his insecurity and loneliness; Lubitsch isn't afraid to halt the movie in its tracks for a few minutes in order to observe the old man subtly try to find company on Christmas Eve. (That may well be straight out of László's source play, but a lot of filmmakers would be tempted to cut it, since it doesn't advance the story in any way.) Pirovitch instantly leaving the room every time Matuschek announces that he wants to hear honest opinions about something is a running gag that never stops working. And who the hell was this William Tracy kid who plays Pepi, the delivery boy who wheedles his way into a clerk's position? How did this hilariously confident turn not lead to a lengthy and notable career? Is that performance somehow attributable to the fabled Lubitsch touch? Wouldn't have bothered me any had Pepi stolen Klara out from under the new boss' nose, though he never shows interest in anything other than his own advancement. Throw in Schildkraut at his smarmiest and you've got a terrific (albeit XY-heavy—the other two female employees get relatively little to do) ensemble piece about holiday retail, strong enough to hold one's attention even when the romance is idle. Klara's sales pitch for the musical cigarette box, which she instantaneously rebrands as a weight-loss aid in response to the customer's needs, is some real Don Draper shit. That the film then dissolves to a shot indicating that the merchandise isn't selling is what makes it special.