The Count of Luxembourg was one of Lehár’s 
                  most popular triumphs. It opened at the Theatre an der Wien 
                  on 12 November 1909. The public adored it. It ran for 299 performances 
                  in Vienna and took German theatres by storm. King George V and 
                  Queen Mary attended the London premiere with Lehár himself 
                  conducting. One critic noted that “There is many a number 
                  in The Count of Luxembourg which Sullivan would 
                  not have refused to acknowledge.” “The waltzes (like 
                  ‘Tell Me Can This Be Love?’), already familiar to 
                  Londoners from dance arrangements, proved the most appealing 
                  attraction, sweeping Britain into yet another Lehár frenzy” 
                  (Operetta, A Theatrical History by Richard Traubner). 
                  The first London production ran for 345 performances at Daly’s 
                  Theatre. Successes in New York and Paris followed. 
                    
                  This production of The Count of Luxembourg is described 
                  as an ‘operetta film’; however, unlike Arthaus’s 
                  operetta film of Lehár’s Paganini, a good 
                  proportion of which was filmed en plein aire,this 
                  one is studio-bound. This is not such a bad notion considering 
                  how daft the plot is; a touch of realism might only point up 
                  its idiocies and destroy its charm. As is usual in operetta 
                  the story revolves around a series of preposterous notions and 
                  coincidences. The spendthrift Count René of Luxembourg 
                  is strapped for cash and is only too happy to consider any scheme 
                  to refill his pockets. Ageing Prince Basil Basilowitsch is in 
                  love with Parisian opera singer, Angèle Didier. He cannot 
                  marry her because she is not of the same aristocratic class, 
                  so Basil offers René 100,000 francs if he will marry 
                  Angèle thus automatically making her a Countess. René, 
                  then has to leave his bride immediately after the marriage ceremony 
                  and return only after three months have elapsed to divorce Angèle 
                  on the grounds that the marriage has not been consummated. This 
                  then leaves the way clear for Basil to marry Angèle who 
                  is quite happy with the whole idea; she does not believe in 
                  romantic love. To add to all this confusion, the mock wedding 
                  itself is bizarre: bride and groom are not allowed to see each 
                  other. A screen is erected between them and a whole punched 
                  through it so that they can only touch hands to exchange rings. 
                  All this had been arranged by the artist Armand Brissard who 
                  himself is having girlfriend trouble. She, Juliette Vermont, 
                  is a model and dancer and is fed up waiting for Armand to propose 
                  marriage. Needless to say complications follow. Angèle 
                  and René fall in love much to Basil’s annoyance 
                  but all ends happily with the three couples united. 
                    
                  The costumes are gorgeous, lighting and sets attractive and 
                  the acting, for the most part, good. Operatic singers stiffen 
                  the operetta roles. Most of the arias are waltz songs. Hunky 
                  Eberhard Wächter in the title role, rises with aplomb to 
                  its demanding part, the tessitura of which straddles baritone 
                  and tenor registers. Lilian Sukis as Angèle is beautiful 
                  and sophisticated, her golden soprano marvellously controlled 
                  across her range particularly in its high register. Helga Papouschek 
                  pouts sweetly and is a honeyed Juliette. Deep-voiced Erich Kunz 
                  makes a dapper and dashing but dignity-affronted Basil and nearly 
                  steals every scene in which he appears. 
                    
                  An enchanted evening of romance and comedy with some of Lehár’s 
                  loveliest waltz songs delivered by a first class ensemble of 
                  singers. 
                    
                  Ian Lace