Midnight
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Synopsis
Screwball comedy doesn’t get any more effortlessly elegant and gleefully irreverent than this roulette wheel of romantic deception, gleaming with cunning wit and Continental élan. A couture-clad Claudette Colbert is divine as a penniless American showgirl who crashes Parisian high society by posing as a wealthy Hungarian baroness—but both a scheming nobleman (John Barrymore) and a smitten taxi driver (Don Ameche) are soon on to her game. Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett’s sophisticated script—a typically subversive blend of fairy-tale escapism and caustic social observation—and the pitch-perfect direction of master craftsman Mitchell Leisen yield a topsy-turvy Cinderella story with a cynical bite.
Picture 7/10
Mitchell Leisen’s Midnight finally receives a Blu-ray edition courtesy of The Criterion Collection, who present the film on a dual-layer disc in its original aspect ratio of 1.37:1. The 1080p/24hz high-definition presentation is sourced from a new 4K restoration conducted by Universal, taken from a scan of a 35mm nitrate composite fine-grain element.
After going through the presentation a couple of times, the results are ultimately fine, lovely at times, but a few persistent quirks prove frustrating. Most noticeably, it appears that filtering or noise reduction has been applied to varying degrees. Again, much of the film still looks good: grain is present and fine details can come through. But there's almost always a slightly waxy look to the image. Admittedly, the film was frequently shot with a soft focus, and the grain is quite fine, which may contribute to the effect. Still, there are several shots where the grain appears patchy or muddled, which also takes a toll on finer textures.
On a more positive note, the film elements themselves look to have been in excellent condition and have been cleaned up with care; there’s very little in the way of visible damage. The encode is passable, though not perfect: macroblocking occasionally creeps into darker areas, and some buzzing can show up in the highlights.
Compared to Criterion’s more recent Blu-ray releases, this one feels a bit “off,” and I suspect some of the issues, particularly the filtering, are baked into the master Universal provided (perhaps also explaining why Criterion didn’t bother with a 4K edition), though can't confirm for sure. In the end, it gets the job done, but it could have looked so much better.
Midnight - Screen Captures
Audio 6/10
The lossless monaural soundtrack shows its age but sounds good all things considered. The range isn’t particularly wide, but the score still hits some decent highs without distortion, and dialogue remains sharp and clear throughout. There’s no significant damage to note. All in, it sounds good.
Extras 7/10
Criterion includes a modest handful of features, including, somewhat surprisingly, a brand-new audio commentary, this one recorded by Michael Koresky. Though he touches on the film’s production history, structure, cast, and crew, Koresky uses much of the track to reflect on director Mitchell Leisen’s broader career. Despite a string of successes, Leisen isn’t held in the same regard as many of his contemporaries, and Koresky explores why. He suggests Leisen’s genre-hopping may have worked against him critically, but argues that it likely had more to do with his open homosexuality—something that became a liability for studios during the Hayes Code era. Combined with a few commercial failures, this may have led to Paramount effectively sidelining him. I appreciated Koresky’s insights, especially his exploration of Leisen’s pre-Code work, but the track ends up feeling fragmented, with long stretches of silence that make it a bit uneven overall. Still, I think it's worth listening to, at least as a primer on Leisen.
Some of the anecdotes Koresky shares—like how John Barrymore’s wife was on set to keep him in check, or how Claudette Colbert insisted her left side never be filmed—are also found in the next feature: 14 minutes of excerpts from a 1969 interview with Leisen. In the recording, Leisen discusses the film’s unusually high budget (attributed to sets and costumes rather than star salaries), explains how he was able to attract big-name actors for small roles (they just wanted to work with him), and touches on working with Billy Wilder (who co-wrote the screenplay with Charles Brackett) and concealing Mary Astor’s pregnancy during production. A great little find.
Another archival inclusion is the 1940 Lux Radio Theatre adaptation of the film, with Colbert and Don Ameche reprising their roles. As usual, it’s a fun curiosity, interesting both in how it compresses the story into 55 minutes (with commercials) and how it shifts scenes to accommodate the radio format. The adaptation moves quickly, particularly through the first half, but slows down in the final act, relying heavily on exposition to fill in for the missing visuals. One major change involves Eve Peabody’s meeting with Georges Flammarion: here, he approaches her right away and even lends her money directly, instead of sneakily slipping it into her purse. Still, the adaptation works surprisingly well, and it’s a reminder of how strong the original dialogue is, and how great Colbert and Ameche are at delivering it. These radio versions are always enjoyable, and I found this one especially charming.
The disc wraps up with the film’s original trailer. Additionally, David Cairns (who has been churning things out for Criterion as of late) contributes a written appreciation of the film and of Leisen’s work in the included insert. It’s a good piece, though I would have loved to see him contribute a video essay instead (maybe that Musketeers one just took it out of him).
All in all, it’s a decent batch of audio-heavy supplements, though they do leave you wishing for more.
Closing
It’s a slightly disappointing release overall. There’s definitely room for more substantial features, and the presentation, while serviceable, comes with enough quirks to make it a bit frustrating.
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