Playing at Love: A bit of old-school Viennese heartbreak

Is it worth it?

If you have a soft spot for black-and-white dramas that actually let characters talk, you will probably like Playing at Love. It is not for the person who needs a car chase every ten minutes. If you hate feeling like a movie is intentionally making you sad, maybe skip this one.

There is something about how Max Ophüls moves the camera that makes even a simple room feel like a trap. Fritz is a guy who thinks he is in control of his own mess, but you can see the walls closing in on him from the first reel. It reminded me a bit of the suffocating feeling in The Night Angel, though much prettier to look at.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Playing at Love (1933) through its definitive frames.

Vienna, the beautiful trap

The streets look like a stage set, but in a way that works. It feels like the characters are performing for each other even when they are supposedly alone. When Christine sits there, just watching Fritz, you can feel the air leave the room.

There is a scene involving a violin that lasts just a few seconds too long, and it is honestly brilliant. You can see the exhaustion in the father's eyes. He knows exactly what is coming for his daughter. He does not even have to say it.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Playing at Love (1933) through its definitive frames.

• Magda Schneider is doing a lot of heavy lifting with just her glances.
• The dialogue is sharp, maybe a little too sharp for these poor people.
• The Baroness character is a total nightmare, but I couldn't look away.

I caught myself thinking about Cousin Kate while watching this. Both movies are obsessed with the rules of polite society and how those rules basically exist to ruin your life. But here, the stakes feel a lot more personal.

Small, weird moments

The background extras in the café scenes look like they are having a better time than anyone in the main cast. I spent way too much time watching a guy in the back try to drink his coffee while looking bored. It’s those little things that ground the whole movie.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Playing at Love (1933) through its definitive frames.

Also, the uniforms. The sheer amount of brass and fabric on these men is absurd. It makes them look like dolls, which I suspect is the point. They are just playing at love, like children with sharp objects.

The ending isn't a surprise if you know anything about the era, but it hits hard anyway. It doesn't try to wrap everything up with a bow. It just stops. I respect that.

If you watch this, don't look for a grand message. Just watch the way Fritz holds his hat. That’s where the movie lives. 🎻