Original Title: Die Herren vom Maxim. Comedy 1933; 92 min.; Director: Carl Boese; Cast: Lee Parry, Johannes Riemann, Oskar Karlweis, Leo Slezak, Manny Ziener, Jessie Vihrog, Käthe Haack, Ernst Behmer; T.K.-Hisa-Tobis-Klangfilm.
A lawyer always has his brides snatched away by his friend. To divert his attention from the latest one, he makes him believe that a client is the same woman who mistakenly entered his hotel room at night. It is only after their marriage that the couple discovers the deception, leading to mutual disappointment, thoughts of divorce, and eventual reconciliation.
Summary
Once again, Hans Volkmann has traveled from his estate to the city to spend a few fun days with his friend, attorney Werner Radke. However, while Werner is happy to have his friend visit, he also fears that Hans, with his confident manner, might overshadow him with the women, as he has so often in the past. This would be particularly inconvenient for Werner right now. He has just recently met the charming dancer Mimi, the delightful soubrette at “Maxim’s,” and has fallen head over heels in love with her.
Nevertheless, Werner has no choice but to introduce Hans to Mimi during their first evening at “Maxim’s.” Even though Hans doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the little soubrette, Werner is determined to take precautions. To that end, he plans to introduce Hans to Mrs. Ursula Heider, whom he had represented in her divorce case and who is currently staying at the same hotel as Hans, along with her aunt. Werner has invited the two ladies and Hans to dinner and has already reserved a table in the dining room.
But before he can introduce Hans to the ladies, another of Werner’s clients, the chamber singer Teophil Rübsam, appears at the table. As always, Rübsam is preoccupied with one of his numerous lawsuits and is relieved to have caught his attorney so late in the evening. Just as Werner is trying to get rid of Rübsam, there is a short circuit in the hotel’s electrical system, causing a blackout. During the darkness, a completely unknown woman accidentally enters Hans’s room. Although Hans cannot see her face, she leaves a strong impression on him.
When Radke hears about this, he, with Rübsam’s help, pretends that Ursula Heider is the beautiful stranger to distract Volkmann from Mimi. Only after Volkmann and Ursula are married do they discover that Radke has deceived them. They then decide to get a divorce. This leads to a series of complications and misunderstandings, during which Radke loses his beloved Mimi. His attempt to recreate the same situation by causing another short circuit fails. In the end, chamber singer Rübsam manages to calm things down. The love waltz, which he tirelessly performs, eventually brings the couples back together.
Walter Jerven’s review in Film Kurier No. 9 (January 10, 1933)
This film introduces us to a discovery that has an extraordinarily electrifying effect on the audience. The discovery is named Leo Slezak. Although he has already appeared in two or three films, this is the first time we truly see him, with fresh eyes, as a new film artist. The term “newcomer” is not reserved exclusively for young people. After all, young people can be old in spirit. A newcomer means youth! And Slezak possesses the youth of a fresh, nature-loving temperament and an obsessive dedication to artistic work. That is why, in this case, we can speak of a newcomer in the highest and most promising sense of the word!
It is absolutely clear: Leo Slezak is an extraordinary figure in the Baedeker of German film acting. Two big stars by his name! We can expect much more from him in the future. And we must be thankful to the T.K. people for introducing him to sound film. Just as he is physically a giant, he is also a giant as an artist. He outshines many others!
It is remarkable that someone who has been celebrated for nearly an eternity as a great heroic tenor on the world’s most prestigious stages has not become stiff with pathos and solemnity, not walking around like his own statue! Even more remarkable is that the wellspring of his overflowing humor has not dried up after years of serious artistic effort and the constant pressure to maintain success at its peak. Instead, his humor flows more warmly, more freely, and more irresistibly than ever!
In this film, Leo Slezak plays a blustering and vain chamber singer who starts lawsuits with God and everyone else. Not that the role—written with cold routine by Karl Noti and B. E. Lüthge, and which becomes very long-winded and thin in the second half—is particularly suited for Slezak. But see how the role dissolves under the abundance of his ideas, the compelling imagination of his creative intuition! Slezak manages, with just a few mimetic nuances, to unfold a parody of the entire vanity of tenors and the schmaltz in which so many dance band singers revel. His joy in acting and, most importantly, his flawless, understated, and completely natural acting ability flows from him.
No wonder the audience greeted every one of his scenes with thunderous applause, and that the magnetism of his personality even affected the entire ensemble! It is wonderful how he integrates himself into the ensemble! And how he brings to life the story of two young, noble gentlemen—who have no worries (because Noti and Lüthge paint the world that way)—one of whom always steals the other’s girlfriend.
In the end, the one who always loses out devises a scheme to trick his rival by steering him toward a woman who initially doesn’t interest him at all, but who eventually leads him to the registry office. — It’s cleverly conceived.
Johannes Riemann and Oskar Karlweiß play these two elegant gentlemen. They contrast well in their performances and their reactions to women. Jessie Vihrog, playing a cabaret dancer, performs with lively agility and the charm of an absolutely vibrant talent. Lee Parry, dressed in beautiful costumes, is the lyrical presence. She sings a lovely waltz song by Oscar Straus, who composed the film’s score—his first German sound film. However, the musical expectations are only partially met.
Carl Boese skillfully brings the ensemble together into a cohesive whole. Beyond the well-crafted execution, one would still wish for a new surprise, new nuances in his direction. Knauer and Reimann have built the film well. A few particularly striking set pieces stand out for their exquisite taste. The cameramen Karl Drews and Heinz Kluth sensitively and perceptively capture the individual characters.
The audience repeatedly called the actors to the stage, but they longed in vain for Leo Slezak, who was performing in Vienna.
