Fourth out of seven Dietrich-von Sternberg's collaborations, SHANGHAI EXPRESS confirms with Hollywood's habitually insensitive appropriation of exotic stories, this time, the victim is a civil war-ridden China, the entire film sets during the treacherous journey of the titular express, chugging from Beijing to Shanghai, but apparently, von Sternberg cannot lay his hands on finding enough Mandarin-speaking extras, so all the Chinese bit players are sporting Cantonese with a weird accent that even confounds this reviewer's Chinese ears, and some of them are occasionally being manhandled unceremoniously, notably in an earlier scene by a miffed Charlie Chan, no, actually it is Henry Chang (Oland), an Eurasian warlord of Chinese rebellions with a costly price tag on his head.
Essentially, the movie is Ms. Dietrich's star vehicle, kit up with astounding sartorial creations from Travis Banton, and looks gorgeously photogenic under von Sternberg's meticulous coordination, she plays a courtesan named Shanghai Lily, of all people, she chances upon her ex-lover, British Captain Donald "Doc" Harvey (a stiff upper-lipped Brook) on the express, while the pair's romance duly begins to rekindle, Chang and his rebellious rabble hijacks the train and detains Doc as a valuable hostage, soon, it falls to two women's hands to take the situation out of jeopardy, one is Shanghai Lily, who acquiesces to Chang's commander for the sake of Doc's safety, another is her companion, a Chinese working girl Hui Fei (a piercing-looking Wong, the first Chinese-American star in Hollywood), who successfully lands on her feet after a vengeful assassination.
Sardonically, the rest western passengers are more or less one-note laughing-stocks, casual scorn is cast upon an opium merchant and self-professed "invalid" Eric Baum (von Seyffertitz), a priggish Reverend Carmichael (Grant) and a congenital bettor Sam Salt (Pallette), whereas Henry Chang is accountable for all the contempt, conversely it is the gamble of love and faith that transpires after its torpid escape hubbub, and it is Shanghai Lily's clandestine repentance finally softens the film's cynical temperament and veers into the usual trajectory of a cheesy romance, but what an extravaganza is on show, von Sternberg's expressionistic idiom would totally normalize the standards we view movies even today, whether it concerns narrative cohesion, the marshaling of a huge set, or spectacular montage arrangements, no wonder audience at that time could rapturously fall under his spell, SHANGHAI EXPRESS is the highest grossing movie of 1932, even today, it demands our collective gaze.
