La Duchesse de Langeais forms part of a trilogy of novels that Balzac grouped under the title “Histoire des treize”, loosely connected by recurring characters, The Thirteen, who form a masonic cabal operating among the highest levels of Parisian society. The lure of Antoinette de Langeais, headstrong, seductive, and tragically fallible, proved irresistible for both screenwriters and actresses, and Paul Czinner surely saw it as an ideal vehicle for Elisabeth Bergner, one of Germany’s most important theatre stars as well as his life-partner (they married in 1933). When shooting began in 1926 he would have known that comparisons would be made with Frank Lloyd’s 1922 version The Eternal Flame, given that Bergner and that film’s star, Norma Talmadge, were considered two of the greatest dramatic actresses of the era. Czinner, unlike Flame’s screenwriter Frances Marion, deviated far less from the novel, to the relief of French critics who had praised Talmadge’s performance but were dismissive of the American need for happy endings. (Curiously, Carmine Gallone’s lost 1917 version, La storia dei tredici, adapted by Lucio D’Ambra and starring Lyda Borelli, likewise eliminated the downbeat finale – fancy that, a Borelli film with a happy ending!)
Also unlike the Lloyd version, Czinner didn’t bother to include the Duchess’s husband as a protagonist; for Balzac, Antoinette’s unhappy marriage with an absent spouse was a catalyst for her flirtations, but Restoration France was not 1920s Hollywood (though it was arguably closer in spirit to Weimar Germany), and the Duchess’s refusal to indulge in a consummated sexual liaison comes from a far more psychologically complex place than mere morals. Unsurprisingly given the film’s title, Liebe, Czinner develops the contrasts between Antoinette’s calculated coquetries at the start and her desperate, all-consuming love after the Marquis de Montriveau (Hans Rehmann) teaches her a lesson, allowing Bergner a range of emotions more celebrated by critics on the film’s original release than in subsequent discussions of the film. Liebe remains one of the least appreciated of the Czinner-Bergner collaborations, though when viewed through a Balzac lens the film is ripe for re-evaluation. Reviews in Germany were ecstatic, with most newspapers commentating on the prolonged ovation during the opening, when Bergner wasn’t allowed to leave the stage. The Berliner Morgenpost’s critique is a representative example: “A melancholy variant on an eternal melody, with compellingly beautiful images and a shattering main performance…much remains unforgettable….”
French reviews following Pax-Film’s release in March 1928, as Histoire des treize, were almost as glowing, with most writers celebrating Czinner’s adherence to the original narrative: “Of all the films drawn from Balzac until now, Histoire des treize is the only one that conveys in its smallest details the atmosphere of his novels… Not the slightest error, nor any fault of good taste, mars this beautiful reimagining, so clearly evocative of the Restoration.” (Le Gaulois, 13 August 1928) Henry Poulaille, in his article “Balzac au cinéma” (Cinéma, 15 March 1928), echoed those words, with an important coda: “We may add that this lovely film comes at the right time. It is a respectful nod by one of the young masters of the universal language that is Cinema, to the great Balzac, his senior, who also, with his pen, addressed the universe.”
Germaine Dermoz, Lyda Borelli, Norma Talmadge, Elisabeth Bergner: it’s quite a roster. But the most famous cinematic incarnation of the Duchess of Langeais never got beyond the planning phase: Greta Garbo, directed by Max Ophuls. Just imagine.

Jay Weissberg