Queen Garbo
This entry was originally written as an academic assignment for a Cult Cinema class, in which we had to argue that a particular film was worthy of its 'cult status'
“Two Queens Were Born in Sweden” (28), claims the October 1933 issue of Photoplay. The women in question are Queen Christina of Sweden, who reigned from 1632-1654, and Greta Garbo of M.G.M, who reigned from 1926-1941. In 1933, the latter would play the former in a Hollywood-ized biopic aptly named Queen Christina. This film was produced by the era’s largest studio, starred the cinema’s biggest star, and had enormous public success. However, it was released during a purgatorial time in Hollywood, known as the ‘pre-code’ era. Because of this, it was able to get away with themes and innuendos that would be prohibited just one year later. Specifically, Queen Christina included themes of cross-dressing and homosexuality giving it the modern day status as a pioneer in queer cinema. It is not just the film that gives it this claim, but the star herself. Its release date, its star, its gender-bending, and its real-life off-screen drama cement Queen Christina as a cult film.
Garbo existed in the centre of many polarities. She was exotic as she was from Sweden, but not too exotic as she was white. She was praised for her uniquely captivating face, but was often mocked for her awkward physique. Her dynamic screen presence was reason enough to watch a mediocre film in which she starred. The women she portrayed on screen are thought to be entirely different from her actual self, as observed in the August 1930 edition of Photoplay:
This “Greta of the screen” is satirized by Garbo’s performance in the 1932 film Grand Hotel. Many lampoon the film for being nothing but a marketing campaign for its mega-star cast, though I believe it is a clever satire which presents said cast as hyperbolic versions of themselves. Wallace Beery plays the villainous tough-guy, John Barrymore plays a washed-out baron, Joan Crawford plays an aspirational secretary willing to use her sexuality for advancements in her career, and Garbo plays an overdramatic prima ballerina. Throughout Garbo’s career, she would play Anna Karenina, Mata Hari, a queen, a countess, several courtesans, and a depressed opera singer. At the same time, she was fiercely private, leading to copious speculation about her personal life. Arguably, this secrecy made her an even greater star. Fan magazines referred to her as an object of worship, “Have we not many Claras, Crawfords, and Pages? We have one God - also one Garbo!” (106), “One of them screams to the high Heavens Garbo can do no wrong - the slightest criticism in Photoplay and the post-office works overtime” (60). In Grand Hotel, Garbo utters her famous line “I want to be alone” indicative of her supposed standoffish appearance to the public. This would also cause people to think she was a real-life diva, when by all accounts she was just an introvert. “I think Garbo the most selfish star on the screen today. She has no right to ignore us, the public. Didn’t we make her a star?” (16). She was not even able to walk in Central Park without being mobbed by fans and photographers. Whether or not Garbo was in on the joke is unclear. This lead to the persona that has stayed with Garbo today, she is an enigma, unbreakable. Queen Christina engages in reflexivity as the film that presents the closest thing to the real Garbo: a woman who is worshipped by millions but longs to lead a life of normality. Casting Garbo in that role was only natural.
Beyond revealing Garbo’s desires to keep her private life concealed from the public, Photoplay would go as far as to subtly hint at Garbo’s own sexuality referring to her tendency to wear men’s clothing and “not [seeming] to be devoted to any particular man” (143). I personally believe that Garbo was bisexual, and that her sexuality and outward physical androgyny are exploited in Queen Christina, especially since the actual monarch is also believed to have been a lesbian. In 1928, two books were published by women who portrayed “cross-dressing” with different outcomes. Orlando: a Biography by Virginia Woolf tells the story of an English gentleman who lives from the Elizabethan era to the 1920’s, and halfway through becomes a woman without explanation or comment. The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall has a basis in the reality of Hall’s own life, presenting the melancholic struggle of the queer community and her own proclivity for dressing “like a man”. Both of these novels treat the act of being attracted to the same-sex as well as cross-dressing as completely natural and unperformed. This was not the case in most films. In 1930, Marlene Dietrich would dress as a man while performing in a cabaret in Morocco, while the rest of the film has her dressed in feminine clothing pursuing a relationship with Gary Cooper. In 1935, Katharine Hepburn would play a con-woman who uses men’s clothing as a disguise, moustache and all, in Sylvia Scarlett. This is where Queen Christina differs from its contemporaries. While Christina wears clothing typically attributed to men, it is not worn as any sort of performance or disguise, this is simply what she wears on a regular basis. When she is mistaken to be a man by John Gilbert’s character later in the film, it is not due to any change in appearance, it is simply her manner and confidence. She takes to being called a man very easily. Though her femininity is later discovered, the love scene she shares with Gilbert does not feel particularly ‘straight’, she even adopts the more physically domineering position, as she did seven years prior in Flesh and the Devil. The scene really feels like one between two men, displaying Garbo’s ability to trespass the boundaries of gender.
The film garners a mythic status because it was seen as Garbo’s long-waited return to the screen. Her last film had been a year and a half earlier, which in 1930’s Hollywood felt like a decade. “The talk of the world, Garbo returns!” claimed the 1933 trailer, and as a queen no less. The film has other real-life parallels in the casting of Garbo’s co-star. Not knowing the name John Gilbert in 1925 would be like not knowing the name Marilyn Monroe in 1960. He was Hollywood’s leading man during the silent era, a more WASPy version of Valentino. He would be met with failure with the arrival of sound. The exact reason for this is still under dispute. Photoplay would claim “Gilbert’s voice is all right” (37). Maybe, as legend goes, it was because Louis B. Mayer hated him. Rumour has it that after Mayer made a crude remark about Garbo, Gilbert punched him in the face. The result was like Singin’ in the Rain and The Artist with the ending of A Star is Born. As Gilbert helped Garbo get her start in Hollywood, his star would fall as her would rise to unprecedented heights. “Now I Help You, says Garbo to Gilbert” (74). But her attempts would fail. She drowns him in the film, simply due to her mystic presence. Three years later, Gilbert would die of alcoholism. His fate is eerily predicted in the film. As Christina gives up her throne to be with her Spanish lover, he dies while attempting to defend her honour. She mourns, but she goes on. But Garbo would not go on for much longer.
Greta Garbo’s cult fandom is not based on early death, nor is she an out-of-this-world oddity. She was completely self-reflexive and aware of her self. And this awareness of herself as an icon is what turned her into a ghost. From 1942-1990, Greta Garbo wandered the streets of New York City as a sort of moving landmark. Spotting her was a sort of game for locals, but what could you say to the Divine Garbo? What has she never heard before? She was one to be admired from afar. Almost two decades after her departure from the screen, film theorist Roland Barthes would declare her to have a “deified face” that “plunged audiences into the deepest ecstasy” (421). His writings were based on the rerelease of Queen Christina in Paris in the late 1950’s, indicating the film’s ability to be scrutinized and re-watched by fans and critics. Today, there are entire Instagram accounts dedicated to Garbo’s image. In this film, life imitates art and art imitates life. If slightly rearranged, it could appear to be a biopic of Garbo herself, whose importance to the film’s success cannot be overstated. The film is an incendiary cult classic disguised as a mainstream cash-grab. It is Garbo’s irrepressible stardom, its queer subversiveness, and its audience’s continuing dialogue that give the film the cult stamp of approval.
Queen Christina: The Cult of Garbo
“Two Queens Were Born in Sweden” (28), claims the October 1933 issue of Photoplay. The women in question are Queen Christina of Sweden, who reigned from 1632-1654, and Greta Garbo of M.G.M, who reigned from 1926-1941. In 1933, the latter would play the former in a Hollywood-ized biopic aptly named Queen Christina. This film was produced by the era’s largest studio, starred the cinema’s biggest star, and had enormous public success. However, it was released during a purgatorial time in Hollywood, known as the ‘pre-code’ era. Because of this, it was able to get away with themes and innuendos that would be prohibited just one year later. Specifically, Queen Christina included themes of cross-dressing and homosexuality giving it the modern day status as a pioneer in queer cinema. It is not just the film that gives it this claim, but the star herself. Its release date, its star, its gender-bending, and its real-life off-screen drama cement Queen Christina as a cult film.
After the scandals of the early 1920’s, Hollywood decided to gets its act together in order to appeal to one of their major markets: families in middle-America whose ideologies were less than progressive. A set of rules known as the ‘Don’ts and Be Careful’s’ was presented to the studios. Though officially introduced in 1930, it was ignored by most. During this time, films were released that appeared to deliberately defy the code as an act of jest. It is the era that turned James Cagney into a ruthless gangster and Mae West into the queen of double entendre. All of these films could be regarded as having a cult status for their provocation of morality groups and telling stories society’s underdogs. Queen Christina has a level above the rest in its star, the Divine Garbo.
Garbo existed in the centre of many polarities. She was exotic as she was from Sweden, but not too exotic as she was white. She was praised for her uniquely captivating face, but was often mocked for her awkward physique. Her dynamic screen presence was reason enough to watch a mediocre film in which she starred. The women she portrayed on screen are thought to be entirely different from her actual self, as observed in the August 1930 edition of Photoplay:
The two Greta Garbos that make up one of the most romantic and glittering figures in all screen history. At the left is a plain girl, with simple tastes, who lives her own life and minds her own business. She likes children, and funny stories, and is timid in a crowd. At the right is the other Garbo—glittering, mysterious, exotic. The Greta of the screen whose allure is so powerful a magnet that she is talked about by millions of fans. (65)
This “Greta of the screen” is satirized by Garbo’s performance in the 1932 film Grand Hotel. Many lampoon the film for being nothing but a marketing campaign for its mega-star cast, though I believe it is a clever satire which presents said cast as hyperbolic versions of themselves. Wallace Beery plays the villainous tough-guy, John Barrymore plays a washed-out baron, Joan Crawford plays an aspirational secretary willing to use her sexuality for advancements in her career, and Garbo plays an overdramatic prima ballerina. Throughout Garbo’s career, she would play Anna Karenina, Mata Hari, a queen, a countess, several courtesans, and a depressed opera singer. At the same time, she was fiercely private, leading to copious speculation about her personal life. Arguably, this secrecy made her an even greater star. Fan magazines referred to her as an object of worship, “Have we not many Claras, Crawfords, and Pages? We have one God - also one Garbo!” (106), “One of them screams to the high Heavens Garbo can do no wrong - the slightest criticism in Photoplay and the post-office works overtime” (60). In Grand Hotel, Garbo utters her famous line “I want to be alone” indicative of her supposed standoffish appearance to the public. This would also cause people to think she was a real-life diva, when by all accounts she was just an introvert. “I think Garbo the most selfish star on the screen today. She has no right to ignore us, the public. Didn’t we make her a star?” (16). She was not even able to walk in Central Park without being mobbed by fans and photographers. Whether or not Garbo was in on the joke is unclear. This lead to the persona that has stayed with Garbo today, she is an enigma, unbreakable. Queen Christina engages in reflexivity as the film that presents the closest thing to the real Garbo: a woman who is worshipped by millions but longs to lead a life of normality. Casting Garbo in that role was only natural.
Beyond revealing Garbo’s desires to keep her private life concealed from the public, Photoplay would go as far as to subtly hint at Garbo’s own sexuality referring to her tendency to wear men’s clothing and “not [seeming] to be devoted to any particular man” (143). I personally believe that Garbo was bisexual, and that her sexuality and outward physical androgyny are exploited in Queen Christina, especially since the actual monarch is also believed to have been a lesbian. In 1928, two books were published by women who portrayed “cross-dressing” with different outcomes. Orlando: a Biography by Virginia Woolf tells the story of an English gentleman who lives from the Elizabethan era to the 1920’s, and halfway through becomes a woman without explanation or comment. The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall has a basis in the reality of Hall’s own life, presenting the melancholic struggle of the queer community and her own proclivity for dressing “like a man”. Both of these novels treat the act of being attracted to the same-sex as well as cross-dressing as completely natural and unperformed. This was not the case in most films. In 1930, Marlene Dietrich would dress as a man while performing in a cabaret in Morocco, while the rest of the film has her dressed in feminine clothing pursuing a relationship with Gary Cooper. In 1935, Katharine Hepburn would play a con-woman who uses men’s clothing as a disguise, moustache and all, in Sylvia Scarlett. This is where Queen Christina differs from its contemporaries. While Christina wears clothing typically attributed to men, it is not worn as any sort of performance or disguise, this is simply what she wears on a regular basis. When she is mistaken to be a man by John Gilbert’s character later in the film, it is not due to any change in appearance, it is simply her manner and confidence. She takes to being called a man very easily. Though her femininity is later discovered, the love scene she shares with Gilbert does not feel particularly ‘straight’, she even adopts the more physically domineering position, as she did seven years prior in Flesh and the Devil. The scene really feels like one between two men, displaying Garbo’s ability to trespass the boundaries of gender. 
In both of the aforementioned films, Dietrich and Hepburn kiss women - though under special circumstances. Dietrich is in the middle of a performance. The kiss she shares with another woman is part of the act, and is responded to with applause and laughter from the audience. Hepburn’s kiss happens when another woman believes she is actually a man, and she quickly rebuffs the advances. Queen Christina has a same-sex kiss that is neither mocked nor under false pretences. Though it appears to be one of friendship, historical context would prove otherwise. The real Christina was rumoured to be in a romantic relationship with one of her ladies in waiting, countess Ebba (played by Elizabeth Young in the film), who complains “I can’t get anywhere near you”. When later thought to be a man, an innkeeper suggests sending “company” to Christina’s room, to which she happily agrees. It is only later when she is sharing a room with Gilbert that she must refuse. By modern standards, the film participates in active “queer-baiting” - nudges and winks at a character’s queerness that ultimately ends in a heterosexual relationship. In 1933, these minimal portrayals of homosexuality were a moment of elation for queer audiences. A sort of subversive secret they could share with the biggest star in the world. The ability to portray homosexuality in film would only become more restricted as #4 on the code’s list: “Any inference of sex perversion” was greatly prohibited in the following years.
The film garners a mythic status because it was seen as Garbo’s long-waited return to the screen. Her last film had been a year and a half earlier, which in 1930’s Hollywood felt like a decade. “The talk of the world, Garbo returns!” claimed the 1933 trailer, and as a queen no less. The film has other real-life parallels in the casting of Garbo’s co-star. Not knowing the name John Gilbert in 1925 would be like not knowing the name Marilyn Monroe in 1960. He was Hollywood’s leading man during the silent era, a more WASPy version of Valentino. He would be met with failure with the arrival of sound. The exact reason for this is still under dispute. Photoplay would claim “Gilbert’s voice is all right” (37). Maybe, as legend goes, it was because Louis B. Mayer hated him. Rumour has it that after Mayer made a crude remark about Garbo, Gilbert punched him in the face. The result was like Singin’ in the Rain and The Artist with the ending of A Star is Born. As Gilbert helped Garbo get her start in Hollywood, his star would fall as her would rise to unprecedented heights. “Now I Help You, says Garbo to Gilbert” (74). But her attempts would fail. She drowns him in the film, simply due to her mystic presence. Three years later, Gilbert would die of alcoholism. His fate is eerily predicted in the film. As Christina gives up her throne to be with her Spanish lover, he dies while attempting to defend her honour. She mourns, but she goes on. But Garbo would not go on for much longer.
Greta Garbo’s cult fandom is not based on early death, nor is she an out-of-this-world oddity. She was completely self-reflexive and aware of her self. And this awareness of herself as an icon is what turned her into a ghost. From 1942-1990, Greta Garbo wandered the streets of New York City as a sort of moving landmark. Spotting her was a sort of game for locals, but what could you say to the Divine Garbo? What has she never heard before? She was one to be admired from afar. Almost two decades after her departure from the screen, film theorist Roland Barthes would declare her to have a “deified face” that “plunged audiences into the deepest ecstasy” (421). His writings were based on the rerelease of Queen Christina in Paris in the late 1950’s, indicating the film’s ability to be scrutinized and re-watched by fans and critics. Today, there are entire Instagram accounts dedicated to Garbo’s image. In this film, life imitates art and art imitates life. If slightly rearranged, it could appear to be a biopic of Garbo herself, whose importance to the film’s success cannot be overstated. The film is an incendiary cult classic disguised as a mainstream cash-grab. It is Garbo’s irrepressible stardom, its queer subversiveness, and its audience’s continuing dialogue that give the film the cult stamp of approval.
REFERENCES
PHOTOPLAY ARTICLES:
Albert, Katherine. “What Garbo thinks of Hollywood.” Photoplay, Aug. 1930, http://www.archive.org/stream/photoplay3839movi#page/n213/mode/2up. Accessed 7 Dec. 2018.
Dale, Helen. “Two Queens were Born in Sweden.” Photoplay, Oct. 1933, https://archive.org/stream/photoplay4445chic#page/n393/mode/2up. Accessed 7 Dec. 2018.
Foster, Dolores. “Gilbert’s Voice is all Right.” Photoplay, June 1930, http://www.archive.org/stream/photoplay3738movi#page/36/mode/2up. Accessed 7 Dec. 2018.
Hall, Leonard. “Garbo-Maniacs.” Photoplay, Jan 1930, http://www.archive.org/stream/photoplay3738movi#page/36/mode/2up. Accessed 7 Dec. 2018.
Hawley, Marjorie. “What The Audience Thinks - Garbo Complaint.” Photoplay, April 1932, https://archive.org/stream/photo42chic#page/n383/mode/2up. Accessed 7 Dec. 2018.
Palmbord, Rilla Page. “The Private Life of Greta Garbo.” Photoplay, Oct. 1930, http://www.archive.org/stream/photoplay3839movi#page/n447/mode/2up. Accessed 7 Dec. 2018.
Stevers, Martin. “Now I Help You, Says Garbo to Gilbert.” Photoplay, Oct. 1933, https://archive.org/stream/photoplay4445chic#page/n439/mode/2up. Accessed 7 Dec. 2018.
FILMS FEATURED:
Queen Christina. Directed by Rouben Mamoulian, performances by Greta Garbo and John Gilbert, M.G.M, 1933.
Grand Hotel. Directed by Edmund Goulding, performances by John Barrymore, Lionel Barrymore, Wallace Beery, Joan Crawford, and Greta Garbo, M.G.M, 1932.
Morocco. Directed by Joseph von Sternberg, performances by Marlene Dietrich, Gary Cooper, and Adolphe Menjou, Paramount, 1930.
Sylvia Scarlett. Directed by George Cukor, performances by Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant, RKO Radio Pictures, 1935.
ESSAYS AND WEB POSTINGS:
Barthes, Roland. “The Face of Garbo.” Film Theory and Criticism, edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen, Oxford, 2016, pp. 421-423.
Horak, Laura. "Queer Crossings: Greta Garbo, National Identity, and Gender Deviance." Indiana University Press, 2014.
Mondello, Bob. “Remebering Hollywood’s Hay’s Code, 40 Years On.” NPR, 8 August 2008. https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=93301189. Accessed 7 December 2018.
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