The Private Life of Don Juan

Continuing with the three-film Alexander Korda collection, I turn to 1934's The Private Life of Don Juan, which has the distinction of being screen legend Douglas Fairbanks' last film. It is a light comedy, playing on Fairbanks reputation as well as the legend of Don Juan, and the climax has a remarkably astute appraisal of the nature of fame.

We meet the great Spanish lover as he in his middle age. He is in Seville, trying to keep out of the public eye, and not working at seducing any wives. An impostor, though, cuts an erotic swath across the city. His wife (Benita Hume), who longs for his return, is determined to send him to jail for bad debts unless he comes to her. But when the impostor is killed by a jealous husband, Don Juan sees his chance to get away and take some time off.

After watching his own funeral (a splendidly rendered scene by Korda), where women who don't even know him mourn him, he spend time in a provincial backwater as "Captain Mariano," where he clowns around with the locals and manages to seduce a waitress. He is waited on by two devoted servants (if he has bad debts, its unclear how he is paying them). "All girls are different, but all wives are the same," he declares, and we can see where that is going.

When he returns to Seville, no one believes its him. A young dancer whom he seduced (Merle Oberon) says that the real Don Juan was taller and younger. Copies of a dashed-off biography are sold in the square, and a play about him is produced at the theater. It is during a production that he takes to the stage, declaring it all lies, and announces his return. But again, no one believes him, and a sly script incorporates all sorts of truths about the nature of fame and how fleeting it is.

I have seen precious little Fairbanks. It is to be noted that one can see why he was a great silent film star, even this film, made when he was approaching fifty, shows his grace, especially the way he easily hops over railings. But his voice left something to be desired. He sounds less like a great Spanish lover than a businessman from a typical American city.