Shanghai Express (1932) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch

 

Shanghai Express (1932) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch 

American Film, Film- Noir, Drama, Romance, Adventure

Academy Awards, 1932- Winner: Best Cinematography, 2 nominations including: Best Picture
Berlin Film Festival, 2014- Official Selection

There is a precise moment in cinema history where glamour became permanent. It happens aboard a train cutting through civil war-era China, draped in heavy shadows and curls of cigarette smoke. The film is Shanghai Express, released in 1932, and it remains one of the most visually stunning achievements of Hollywood’s golden age. At its heart is Marlene Dietrich, operating at the absolute peak of her enigmatic power under the meticulous direction of Josef von Sternberg. More on Wikipedia or Mubi 

Romance on the Rails: Why Shanghai Express Still Captivates 

The plot itself is a classic melodrama wrapped in a political thriller. A group of eclectic first-class passengers boards a train from Peking to Shanghai. Among them is Captain Donald Harvey, a British medical officer, and his former flame, Madeline, who now goes by the notorious moniker Shanghai Lily. When the train is hijacked by a rebel warlord, the claustrophobic tension forces every character to reveal their true colors. It is a story about sacrifice, judgment, and the thin line between a respectable reputation and a ruined one.

What elevates this film from a standard 1930s adventure into a masterpiece is its atmosphere. Von Sternberg did not just direct the movie; he sculpted it with light. Working alongside legendary cinematographer Lee Garmes, who won an Academy Award for his efforts here, the director turned the locomotive into a dreamscape. Every frame looks like a high-fashion photograph or a Dutch masters painting. Light filters through slatted window blinds, casting geometric shadows across faces, while smoke and steam create a thick, tactile environment that feels entirely alive.

Dietrich is the undeniable gravity of the film. As Shanghai Lily, she delivers lines with a world-weary cadence that manages to be simultaneously cynical and deeply vulnerable. Her wardrobe, a lavish collection of feathers, furs, and veils designed by Travis Banton, became instant fashion history. She famously remarks that it took more than one man to change her name to Shanghai Lily, a line that perfectly captures the pre-Code era's maturity and sophistication before censorship tightened its grip on Hollywood.

The chemistry between Dietrich and Clive Brook, who plays the stiff-upper-lip British captain, provides the emotional anchor. Their history is unspooled slowly, showing a love broken by mistrust but never truly extinguished. Surrounded by a brilliant supporting cast—including Warner Oland as the menacing rebel leader and Anna May Wong as the fiercely independent companion—the central romance carries a genuine stakes-filled weight.

Nearly a century later, the film has lost none of its hypnotic pull. It stands as a testament to an era when movies relied on pure style, sharp dialogue, and unforgettable star power to transport audiences to another world. The train may eventually reach its destination, but the visual journey of Shanghai Express is one that lingers long after the screen goes dark.

Light and Shadows: The Balance of Shanghai Express

Evaluating Shanghai Express today means looking at a film that is simultaneously ahead of its time and very much a product of 1932. It is a striking combination of cinematic genius and outdated Hollywood conventions, making it both a masterpiece and a historical curiosity.

The Good

The visual craftsmanship is the absolute crown jewel of the movie. The cinematography by Lee Garmes doesn’t just capture the action; it creates a mood that filmmakers still try to replicate today. The way the light catches Marlene Dietrich’s face, filtering through veils and cigarette smoke, is pure cinematic poetry. Every frame feels deliberate, luxurious, and thick with atmosphere.

Marlene Dietrich herself gives a performance that defines star power. She brings a modern, independent sensibility to Shanghai Lily, turning what could have been a cliché fallen-woman character into someone deeply complex, guarded, and resilient. Alongside her, Anna May Wong delivers a fierce, quietly powerful performance that often steals the scenes she is in, breaking through the limitations of the era's typical roles for Asian actresses.

The film also benefits from its pre-Code pacing. Clocking in at just under eighty minutes, it moves with the urgency of the train itself. The dialogue is sharp, sophisticated, and carries a mature edge regarding romance and morality that Hollywood would soon banish for decades under stricter censorship laws.

The Bad

The most glaring flaw for modern audiences lies in the casting and cultural representation. Following a problematic trend of the era, the main antagonist, a Eurasian warlord, is played by Warner Oland—a Swedish actor in yellowface makeup. While Oland plays the villain with a certain menacing restraint, the practice itself casts a shadow over the film's historical value and can be deeply jarring to watch today.

Beyond the casting, the plot relies heavily on standard melodrama mechanics. The central conflict between Lily and her British captain often hinges on frustrating misunderstandings and a rigid, outdated double standard regarding a woman's past. The captain’s stiff, judgmental attitude can make it hard to root for the romance, as he frequently feels less interesting than the world-weary woman he is judging.

Finally, while the studio sets are incredibly detailed and atmospheric, the depiction of China is entirely a Hollywood fantasy. It treats the complex political realities of the Chinese Civil War merely as an exotic, dangerous backdrop for a Western romance, prioritizing style and exoticism over any real cultural accuracy.