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CLAUDETTE COLBERT
Virtue is wronged by Edmund Lowe in The Misleading Lady.
"You harlot," cried Fredric March.
"I love you," simpered Claudette Colbert.
"That's enough," said Cecil B. DeMille.
On the basis of five words of dialogue he decided to turn a pleasant young comedienne into Poppaea, wickedest woman in the world. The justly famed bath in asses' milk in The Sign of the Cross ( 1932 ) would shortly follow. There were some things that sound and the depression could not change. Among them were the public's love of spectacle, the movies' transcendent ability to provide same, and Cecil B. DeMille's mastery of the form. He would turn, after this film, from rewriting Biblical history to experiments with the American past, until after the Second World War Americans tired of
patriotism and were ready for such religious consolation as he could offer. The DeMille formula did not change whatever the period. It was always a blend of sex, sadism, action, pseudo nobility and, for the individual who abandoned attitudes at the door, great good fun.
As for Miss Colbert, a transplanted Parisian with considerable stage and screen experience prior to the big lift DeMille gave her in The Sign of the Cross and in Cleopatra, she sensibly varied her pace throughout the decade. The year she made Cleopatra she also made It Happened One Night, and whether playing the Queen of the Nile or a rich girl on the run, she retained a kind of wide-eyed innocence and youthful gaiety which never grew tiresome.
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Virtue defends herself— after a fashion— in The Wiser Sex.