NR | Rottentomatoes.com Rating:100% | 1940 |
(Nothing offensive) | Picky Flicks Quote: "A romantic comedy of dazzling range -Dave Kehr, Chicaco Reader | RUNTIME:1 hr. 40min. |
Visit:www.screenit.com for complete details | Movie Mood:  Old-fashioned |
You might not be surprised to learn that The Shop Around the Corner inspired the plot for You've Got Mail, which I recently reviewed and which was made some 58 years after the original Jimmy Stewart vehicle. After all, Kathleen Kelly’s little bookstore is called “The Shop Around the Corner”—a clear nod to its predecessor.
But the similarities don’t end there. Although e-mail was clearly nonexistent in 1940 (I can just picture some futuristic dreamer describing sending “notes without paper” through “a machine that can think…sort of” to his colleagues and getting kicked out of the lunch bunch for being a nut job), the concept of falling in love via correspondence with someone you’ve never met and about whom you know very few concrete details is alive and well in The Shop Around the Corner. And it’s done to charming effect, mostly because the acting is so very good.
Despite the cast’s being almost entirely American, the setting is Budapest, Hungary, which, I can only assume, can be explained by the fact The Shop Around the Corner is based on a play called “Parfumerie” that originally opened in—where else?— Budapest, Hungary.
The shop in question is a mini-department store called Matuschek and Co. which employs six clerks (“when the shop across the street is much larger and only has four,” points out a stressed Mr. Matuschek), the head of whom is Jimmy Stewart’s Alfred Kralik. This fellow is serious about his job (as Jimmy Stewart almost inevitably is in his cutely cranky way) and has been for the past nine years. He knows times are tough, so he can’t figure out exactly why Klara Novak can’t understand the same thing when she comes looking for work, and he lets her know that he’ll, well, let her know if anything opens up.
She’s a stubborn little firecracker, though, and after she cons a customer into buying a worthless piece of junk as proof of her swindling…er, um…selling expertise, Mr. Matuschek hires her on the spot, even though they don’t really need her.
Cut to several months later, and she and ol’ Kralik aren’t getting along too swell. In fact they fight like a very feisty, prissy cat and a solemn, dutiful hound dog. Add to that the fact that Mr. Matuschek no longer values Kralik’s opinion like he used to—is acting downright suspicious and hostile, in fact—and Kralik thinks he may just have to move on to…well, wherever else it is that he’ll be properly appreciated.
But he doesn’t even get the chance, as it turns out, since Mr. Matuschek gives him the heave-ho—with a positive letter of references but without his usual cheery chumminess. Kralik’s at a loss to know what he might have possibly done to offend his longtime boss and friend, but he does know he’s in a bit of a bind since he’s been getting more and more serious with an anonymous pen-pal sweetheart who seems to be his soul mate in almost every way (Oh, please God, let her be prettier than the south end of a north-bound mule!). He's set to meet her any day now and isn’t going to have enough pengos in his wallet to support a wife if he doesn’t get on the stick quickly.
Of course, he might not need as many pengos as all that once he figures out that a certain disagreeable coworker is the very same soul mate he’s been politely gushing about to fellow, sympathetic clerk, Pirovitch (the only actor in the film with an accent that could be construed as remotely Hungarian). What a letdown! Then again, maybe not. After all, he knows, and she doesn’t, so why not see if she really might be the one? There’s nothing to lose from it. Right?
The movie’s happy ending is both inevitable and well-deserved, with the misunderstanding with Mr. Matuschek resolved to a very satisfying degree and the young lovers finally uniting. Klara’s previously unprecedented prickliness is even explained, although (for me, at least) to a slightly less satisfying degree.
The movie really is enjoyable, cleverly scripted, and quick-paced. The one fly in the ointment for me is Klara. It’s easy to see how Kralik could get lonely and long for a kindred spirit, but Klara never fully convinced me (especially when she makes Kralik lift his pants to prove he’s not bow-legged; you’ll see) that she’s it. It doesn’t really matter what I think, though, because Kralik sure likes her, and I sure liked this movie.
Until next Wednesday, stay picky! Your mind will thank you later!
But the similarities don’t end there. Although e-mail was clearly nonexistent in 1940 (I can just picture some futuristic dreamer describing sending “notes without paper” through “a machine that can think…sort of” to his colleagues and getting kicked out of the lunch bunch for being a nut job), the concept of falling in love via correspondence with someone you’ve never met and about whom you know very few concrete details is alive and well in The Shop Around the Corner. And it’s done to charming effect, mostly because the acting is so very good.
Despite the cast’s being almost entirely American, the setting is Budapest, Hungary, which, I can only assume, can be explained by the fact The Shop Around the Corner is based on a play called “Parfumerie” that originally opened in—where else?— Budapest, Hungary.
The shop in question is a mini-department store called Matuschek and Co. which employs six clerks (“when the shop across the street is much larger and only has four,” points out a stressed Mr. Matuschek), the head of whom is Jimmy Stewart’s Alfred Kralik. This fellow is serious about his job (as Jimmy Stewart almost inevitably is in his cutely cranky way) and has been for the past nine years. He knows times are tough, so he can’t figure out exactly why Klara Novak can’t understand the same thing when she comes looking for work, and he lets her know that he’ll, well, let her know if anything opens up.
She’s a stubborn little firecracker, though, and after she cons a customer into buying a worthless piece of junk as proof of her swindling…er, um…selling expertise, Mr. Matuschek hires her on the spot, even though they don’t really need her.
Cut to several months later, and she and ol’ Kralik aren’t getting along too swell. In fact they fight like a very feisty, prissy cat and a solemn, dutiful hound dog. Add to that the fact that Mr. Matuschek no longer values Kralik’s opinion like he used to—is acting downright suspicious and hostile, in fact—and Kralik thinks he may just have to move on to…well, wherever else it is that he’ll be properly appreciated.
But he doesn’t even get the chance, as it turns out, since Mr. Matuschek gives him the heave-ho—with a positive letter of references but without his usual cheery chumminess. Kralik’s at a loss to know what he might have possibly done to offend his longtime boss and friend, but he does know he’s in a bit of a bind since he’s been getting more and more serious with an anonymous pen-pal sweetheart who seems to be his soul mate in almost every way (Oh, please God, let her be prettier than the south end of a north-bound mule!). He's set to meet her any day now and isn’t going to have enough pengos in his wallet to support a wife if he doesn’t get on the stick quickly.
Of course, he might not need as many pengos as all that once he figures out that a certain disagreeable coworker is the very same soul mate he’s been politely gushing about to fellow, sympathetic clerk, Pirovitch (the only actor in the film with an accent that could be construed as remotely Hungarian). What a letdown! Then again, maybe not. After all, he knows, and she doesn’t, so why not see if she really might be the one? There’s nothing to lose from it. Right?
The movie’s happy ending is both inevitable and well-deserved, with the misunderstanding with Mr. Matuschek resolved to a very satisfying degree and the young lovers finally uniting. Klara’s previously unprecedented prickliness is even explained, although (for me, at least) to a slightly less satisfying degree.
The movie really is enjoyable, cleverly scripted, and quick-paced. The one fly in the ointment for me is Klara. It’s easy to see how Kralik could get lonely and long for a kindred spirit, but Klara never fully convinced me (especially when she makes Kralik lift his pants to prove he’s not bow-legged; you’ll see) that she’s it. It doesn’t really matter what I think, though, because Kralik sure likes her, and I sure liked this movie.
Until next Wednesday, stay picky! Your mind will thank you later!
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