Morocco (1930) marked Marlene Dietrich's Hollywood debut. Her second collaboration with Josef Von Sternberg actually premiered in America before The Blue Angel; advance buzz for that movie helped Morocco become a hit. The film itself is a hokey melodrama redeemed by its style and stars.Nightclub singer Amy Jolly (Marlene Dietrich) arrives in Mogador, Morocco. She rebuffs the advances of wealthy businessman La Bessiere (Adolphe Menjou), instead becoming smitten with dashing Foreign Legionnaire Tom Brown (Gary Cooper). But Tom's relationship with an officer's wife (Eve Southern) and incident involving violent natives compromise Amy's affection. Tom's unit is dispatched to fight Arab insurgents, leaving Amy to ponder La Bessiere's affections.
Morocco tries to be a sweeping epic, a tragic romance against an exotic backdrop. Sadly it rarely transcends cliche. But the story (based on a Benno Vigny novel) was cliché in 1930 and plays even worse now. Amy's character is a weary burnout and her lovers one-note stock figures, leaving the cast to invest them with life. Jules Fuhrman's script mixes triangular banalities with hokey dialogue; only a few memorable lines flare, like Amy's musing about a "Foreign Legion of women." And though it came first, the setting mainly invokes more accomplished films like Beau Geste and Casablanca.
Sternberg's trademark visuals are a selling point. His outdoors scenes are limited to stock bazaars and sparse deserts (so much for exoticism); Sternberg, as in Blue Angel, prefers smoky nightclubs and shady back alleys. He and photographer Lee Garmes render several vivid tableaux, especially Amy's fog-swept entrance and the beautifully realized conclusion. Sadly, most available prints are of poor quality, compromising Sternberg's imagery. But Morocco's star power shines through even the scratchiest prints.
Marlene Dietrich effortlessly transfers her charisma and sensuality to Hollywood, playing a more sympathetic figure than Lola Lola. She doesn't miss a step in English; her set pieces here, from her smoky entrance to a cross-dressing nightclub act, enhance her iconic status. Gary Cooper flavors his normal rectitude with just enough insouciance to spark off Dietrich. Even the stiff Adolphe Menjou's well-served as the boring third wheel.
Morocco typifies Dietrich and Sternberg's American works: stylistically accomplished, narratively trifling. At least it hangs together better than the absurd Blonde Venus or overwrought The Scarlet Empress.
