La Habanera is an early Sirk movie to be sure, and one made in Nazi Germany, but so much of his trademark style is already evident here that it's a fascinating film to watch.
Sirk was no Nazi, but upfront it nevertheless ticks certain ideological boxes to please its Nazi masters: the Swedish heroine is rescued by a Swedish hero and returns from sultry, corrupt Puerto Rico to purer than pure Sweden at the end of the film.
But not so fast...the film is a study in seduction, and the erotic and romantic allure of Puerto Rico is evident from beginning to end, like a heady perfume or draft of opium. Ferdinand Marian's Don Pedro de Avila is, at least at the start, a profoundly erotic figure, far more so than the rather pallid Swedish doctor who is his rival. And Leander herself, it seems, is not sure of her choice to return home, even at the end of the film. As the ship pulls away from the dock and the haunting sound of La Habanera plays one more time, Zara Leander sighs a deeply erotic sigh, signalling the continuing power the island has over her.
Like all the best melodramas, it has things both ways in ideological terms, so you can choose to read the film how you will. The plot is pretty much a potboiler, but it's made with such care and panache that the resultant film is immensely impressive despite the stupid story. And Zarah Leander lights up the screen with that particular brand of tender, sultry melancholy she made her own.
Sirk was no Nazi, but upfront it nevertheless ticks certain ideological boxes to please its Nazi masters: the Swedish heroine is rescued by a Swedish hero and returns from sultry, corrupt Puerto Rico to purer than pure Sweden at the end of the film.
But not so fast...the film is a study in seduction, and the erotic and romantic allure of Puerto Rico is evident from beginning to end, like a heady perfume or draft of opium. Ferdinand Marian's Don Pedro de Avila is, at least at the start, a profoundly erotic figure, far more so than the rather pallid Swedish doctor who is his rival. And Leander herself, it seems, is not sure of her choice to return home, even at the end of the film. As the ship pulls away from the dock and the haunting sound of La Habanera plays one more time, Zara Leander sighs a deeply erotic sigh, signalling the continuing power the island has over her.
Like all the best melodramas, it has things both ways in ideological terms, so you can choose to read the film how you will. The plot is pretty much a potboiler, but it's made with such care and panache that the resultant film is immensely impressive despite the stupid story. And Zarah Leander lights up the screen with that particular brand of tender, sultry melancholy she made her own.