Trouble in Paradise (1932)

Introduction

Ernst Lubitsch’s Trouble in Paradise is a masterwork of wit, elegance, and charm—arguably one of the most perfectly executed romantic comedies in cinema history. Released in 1932, before the enforcement of the Hays Code, the film is imbued with a gleeful irreverence and a frankness about sex, class, and morality that would soon vanish from American screens for decades.

Famed for his elusive “Lubitsch Touch,” the director crafts a story of con artists, mistaken identities, and emotional entanglements that plays with such buoyancy and sophistication it feels almost weightless. But make no mistake: beneath the film’s satin surface lies a razor-sharp commentary on love, greed, and social mores.

Plot Summary

Set primarily in Venice and Paris, Trouble in Paradise opens with a dazzlingly choreographed sequence of duplicity: gentleman thief Gaston Monescu (Herbert Marshall) meets equally crafty pickpocket Lily Vautier (Miriam Hopkins) under false pretences. Each tries to con the other, only to realize they’re both professional crooks—kindred spirits in crime and romance.

Smitten and partnered in love and larceny, the duo sets their sights on wealthy perfume magnate Madame Mariette Colet (Kay Francis). Gaston assumes the identity of a respectable secretary to infiltrate her household and gain access to her fortune. But what begins as a simple heist grows complicated when Gaston and Mariette develop a genuine romantic tension. Lily grows jealous. Mariette grows suspicious. And soon, love, loyalty, and larceny collide in a climactic ballet of betrayal and forgiveness.

The film ends with a mischievous return to form: Gaston and Lily abandon wealth and propriety to elope into the night—back to the world of charming grift.

Performances

Herbert Marshall, known for his refined, almost patrician presence, is sublimely cast as Gaston. He exudes suave confidence and quiet humour, masking a rogue’s cunning beneath a diplomat’s demeanour. His chemistry with both Hopkins and Francis is strikingly different but equally rich—his scenes with Hopkins crackle with mischievous lust, while his interactions with Francis simmer with romantic ambiguity.

Miriam Hopkins, playing Lily, is luminous—a whip-smart thief with a fragile heart. Her performance is deftly balanced between comedic sharpness and emotional depth. She’s not a conventional ingénue; she’s a woman with agency and an eye for opportunity, but also one capable of genuine vulnerability.

Kay Francis, often underrated, brings a beguiling sophistication to Madame Colet. She turns what could be a mere foil into a fully fleshed-out character—graceful, worldly, and not as easily fooled as the plot might initially suggest. Her character’s ambiguous blend of affection and calculation makes her a fascinating rival and would-be partner for Gaston.

Charles Ruggles and Edward Everett Horton provide stellar comic relief as Mariette’s bumbling suitors—entertaining foils to Gaston’s elegance.

Direction and the “Lubitsch Touch”

Ernst Lubitsch’s direction is a marvel of subtle implication, visual wit, and emotional intelligence. Known for saying more with a closed door than most directors could with a monologue, Lubitsch treats the audience as a partner in the joke rather than a passive observer. The film is full of innuendo, unspoken desires, and elegant framing that tease rather than tell.

The dialogue, penned by frequent Lubitsch collaborator Samson Raphaelson, sparkles with intelligence and innuendo. But it’s the pacing, framing, and rhythm that elevate Trouble in Paradise beyond mere cleverness. Every movement, glance, and pause is imbued with layered meaning.

For example, Lubitsch avoids showing physical intimacy directly. A closed door, a dimmed light, or a quiet fade-to-black does all the heavy lifting, and somehow it’s far more suggestive than anything explicit. This style is what film scholars mean when they refer to "the Lubitsch Touch"—a combination of elegance, economy, and irony.

Visuals and Production Design

Though modest in scale, the film's production design is sumptuous, from the Art Deco interiors of Madame Colet’s mansion to the glittering canals of Venice. Victor Milner’s cinematography enhances this opulence, shooting through mirrors, lace curtains, and ornamental glass to create visual layers that echo the emotional duplicity at play.

Costumes are especially noteworthy. Kay Francis’s wardrobe is a parade of haute couture, and her regal bearing makes even the most decadent gown look effortless. Hopkins’s more playful, streetwise attire contrasts sharply, reinforcing the class dynamics that underscore the love triangle.

Themes

Love as Con Game

The film playfully suggests that romance and swindling are not far apart—both rely on illusion, seduction, and risk. Gaston and Lily fall in love by outsmarting each other. Gaston falls for Mariette by lying to her. Yet none of this feels cynical—Lubitsch shows that deception, in the right hands, can be a form of intimacy.

Class and Identity

Beneath the frothy surface is a biting satire of wealth and aristocracy. Gaston and Lily are impostors, but their elegance outshines the real elites. Lubitsch seems to ask: if charm, wit, and taste can be faked, what value does inherited status really have?

Pre-Code Sensuality and Female Agency

Trouble in Paradise is a shining example of what was possible before the Production Code tightened its grip in 1934. The female characters are intelligent, sexual, and in control. They make decisions based on desire, not obligation. Their dialogue is full of innuendo and double entendre, but always with a knowing smile.

Reception and Legacy

While it was well-received in 1932, Trouble in Paradise grew in stature over the decades, particularly among cinephiles and directors like Billy Wilder and Peter Bogdanovich. Its sophisticated humour and frank sexuality made it a touchstone for romantic comedies that followed.

The film was pulled from circulation after the Hays Code took effect—its moral ambiguity and suggestive dialogue deemed inappropriate. As a result, it became something of a lost treasure until being rediscovered and restored to circulation in the 1960s and beyond.

In 1991, it was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress, a recognition of its cultural, historical, and aesthetic significance.

Final Verdict

Trouble in Paradise is an enduring delight—at once feather-light and dazzlingly sharp. With its urbane humour, graceful performances, and underlying melancholy, it shows what happens when a filmmaker treats the audience as intelligent, sophisticated, and complicit. It’s not just one of the greatest romantic comedies ever made; it’s one of the most perfectly composed films in Hollywood history.

A sublime, shimmering triumph of the pre-Code era—witty, seductive, and never out of style.