Nobody’s perfect… Heaven on Earth (1927) with Stephen Horne, BFI

"The city had a jewel-like sparkle… the vast cafés reminded me of ocean liners powered by the rhythms of their orchestras. There was music everywhere." Josephine Baker, after visiting Berlin in 1925

Think of Weimer cinema and you’re probably thinking heavy drama; tough lives lived in shadows and expressive hyper-realism and yet, there’s also a huge amount of fun, with, “bee-dle-dee dee dee dee…” a fair amount of transgressive naughtiness as Germany got well ahead of itself and everyone else for a while.

Heaven on Earth is a very, aha, earthy farce that confronts the question many of us don’t ponder enough: what to do if you inherit a saucy night club? Now, imagine if you’re a politician who has, albeit accidentally, set his stall against the vice-ridden den in question, earning a standing ovation for taking a stand against the commodification of human desire and weakness.

Nighclubbing...

It’s a very neat set up and the multi-talented Reinhold Schünzel is just the man to make the absolute most of it! Schünzel, who enjoyed a long career from 1915 to the fifties, co-directs with Alfred Schirokauer, co-produces, co-writes and plays the lead, Traugott Bellmann, the politician in question who has seediness foisted upon him after a cousin dies and leaves him the club plus five thousand Marks.

Traugott starts off the film getting married to the lovely Juliette (Charlotte Ander) the daughter of wine merchant Louis Martiny (Otto Wallburg) who couldn’t behappier with his new son-in-law until he forgets his notes for his maiden speech and ends up improvising a prohibitionist policy that focuses on the Heaven on Earth club to which Martiny sells so much wine!

It’s a quandry soon overtaken by Traugott’s mixed-blessing and now he has to try and balance his two worlds without the other finding out. Almost immediately he starts receiving odd guests at his house, all keen to welcome the new cabaret owner and get booked…

A promotional booklet for the film...

First up is an all-black jazz band called The Smile Band, who wear cute little hats and look like they played up a riot! Jazz was very fashionable in Berlin at the time and cooler audiences naturally preferred authentic black performers embracing them as part of a progressive arts movement away from Germany’s miserable recent past.

Then we see a group of dancing girls who look staid when they arrive at Traugott’s door before revealing scanty costumes and the raciest of routines, much to their host’s delight and then despair as his wife investigates the commotion. Schünzel had a background in club culture and his turn as well as these artists’ are genuine: you want to learn more.

Charlotte Ander looks on as Reinhold Schünzel checks Maria Kamradek's teeth...

Traugott begins to enjoy his nightlife and soon begins a flirtation with a handsome young woman (Maria Kamradek) who later rocks up at his house having answered an advert to be a housemaid…

Losing the battle to separate his loves and lives he tries to off-load the club but not before his father-in-law finds out and comes looking for him. He escapes by cross-dressing… unconvincing to all except for one with his broad shoulders, manly hands and increasing exasperation.

Schünzel is hilarious: naturalistic and with great timing, he’s a relaxed and very “modern” performer… at one point, bored with the pretence of cross-dressing, he puffs out his cigarette with all the grace of a Hamburg docker. He’s also quite stocky for a girl and his broad shoulders and jaunty smile would be unlikely to convince most, but, as Herr Lubitsch proved a number of years earlier with Ossi Oswalda, some men are easily confused but not always disappointed. As Joe E. Brown’s character says to Jack Lemmon’s in Some Like It Hot, when he finds out he’s not the girl he thought she was: “nobody’s perfect…”

We’d got our cabaret, mein herr, and Mr Stephen Horne was right there with us with a cheeky jazzed-up accompaniment on piano and accordion… all those years in East Berlin dive bars (possibly) informing his typically sympathetic playing. Also, “bee-dle-dee dee dee dee…”, one man, many tunes.