The Devil Is a Woman (1935) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch

 

The Devil Is a Woman (1935) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch 

American Film, Drama, Romance

Venice Film Festival, 1935- Winner: Best Cinematography

Josef von Sternberg once famously said that Marlene Dietrich was the only actress who didn't look like a doll, but rather like a human being with the soul of a doll. This strange, haunting dynamic reached its fever pitch in 1935 with their final collaboration, The Devil Is a Woman. It wasn't just a movie; it was a decadent farewell to one of the most obsessive creative partnerships in Hollywood history. More on Wikipedia or Mubi 

The Last Masterpiece of Dietrich and von Sternberg 

Set against the backdrop of a stylized, carnivalesque Spain, the story revolves around Concha Pérez, a cigarette factory worker who becomes the ultimate femme fatale. She is a whirlwind of ego and lace, effortlessly destroying the lives of two men: the aging, dignified Don Pasqual and the younger, revolutionary Antonio. Through a series of flashbacks, we see Concha not as a person, but as a force of nature that feeds on the devotion of others while remaining completely untouchable herself.

WATCH FILM (Dailymotion) 

The visual style of this film is where von Sternberg truly went off the deep end—in the best way possible. Every frame is crowded with shadows, fishnets, streamers, and layers of lace. It is a masterclass in cinematography, where the lighting is so deliberate that Dietrich’s face seems to glow from within, even while her character is tearing the world apart. The atmosphere is thick, almost suffocating, turning the Spanish setting into a dreamscape rather than a real place.

Interestingly, the film caused a massive diplomatic stir. The Spanish government at the time was so offended by the depiction of the Civil Guard and the general "moral decay" of the characters that they demanded Paramount destroy the negatives. For years, it was a "lost" film, kept alive only because von Sternberg famously kept a personal copy under his bed.

The Devil Is a Woman remains a polarizing work. Some see it as the ultimate expression of cinematic art, while others find it cold and repetitive. But there is no denying its power. It captures a moment when cinema stopped trying to reflect reality and instead created its own bizarre, beautiful, and cruel universe. It was the perfect ending to the Dietrich-Sternberg era—a beautiful, shimmering disaster.

TheGood:

The "good" starts and ends with the sheer, unadulterated beauty of the production. This was Josef von Sternberg at the height of his visual powers. He didn't just direct; he sculpted with light. Every scene is a dense thicket of visual information—streamers, confetti, ornate ironwork, and veils—that creates a sense of voyeurism. You aren't just watching a story; you are peering through a curtain into a private, feverish dream.

Marlene Dietrich has never looked more iconic. The way the camera lingers on her face makes her feel like an untouchable statue. For anyone who loves the "Golden Age" aesthetic, this is the gold standard. It’s a textbook example of how cinematography can tell a story of obsession better than any dialogue ever could.

The Bad:

However, the "bad" is often found in that very same obsession. The plot is essentially a repetitive cycle: a man falls for Concha, she ruins him, he comes back for more, and the cycle repeats. To a modern audience, the pacing can feel stagnant. There is very little "action" in the traditional sense; instead, there is a mounting sense of emotional exhaustion.

Then there is the character of Concha herself. She isn't a hero, and she isn't even a relatable villain. She is a cipher—a blank screen onto which men project their desires. While that’s the point of the movie, it can make the film feel cold and distant. It lacks the warmth or the narrative drive found in Dietrich’s earlier work like Morocco or Shanghai Express. You might find yourself wanting to shake the male leads and tell them to simply walk away, which makes for a viewing experience that is more intellectually fascinating than emotionally satisfying.

Ultimately, the film's flaws are what make it so memorable. It is a deeply self-indulgent work of art. Von Sternberg wasn't trying to please the masses or the censors; he was making a monument to his own aesthetic. It’s "bad" in the way an over-rich dessert is bad—too much sugar, too much fat, and almost impossible to finish in one sitting—but you can’t deny the craft that went into making it. It remains a beautiful, shimmering mess that captures the end of an era.