Is there another Classic Hollywood director whose reputation has been as tarnished by time as William Dieterle (1893-1972)? He helmed his first two Hollywood films in 1931 and, by year’s end, was already being praised as a prodigy. (The New York Times applauded his “artistry and fertile brain,” predicting he “could make a poor story interesting and a good story a masterpiece.” Variety forecast “a worthy spot in the megaphoning field.”) By the time 1932 drew to a close, he had another half-dozen titles in release, and the response from critics grew reverential. They eyed him as an original: a storyteller with a keen understanding of human nature; a jack-of-all-trades who excelled in every genre, from romantic comedy to costume drama; and an innovator whose camera roamed with impressive freedom, at a time when the technical constraints of the early sound era typically held movement to a minimum.
