In Budapest, Hungary, the Matuschek and Company store is owned by Mr. Hugo Matuschek and the bachelor Alfred Kralik is his best and most experienced salesman. When Klara Novak seeks a job position of saleswoman in the store, Matuschek hires her but Kralik and she do not tolerate each other. Meanwhile the lonely and dedicated Kralik has an unknown pen pal that he intends to propose very soon; however, he is fired without explanation by Matuschek in the night that he is going to meet his secret love. He goes to the bar where they have scheduled their meeting with his colleague Pirovitch and he surprisingly finds that Klara is his correspondent; however, ashamed with the unemployment, he does not disclose his identity to her. When Matuschek discovers that he had misjudged Kralik and committed a mistake, he hires him again for the position of manager. But Klara is still fascinated with her future fiancé and does not pay much attention to Kralik.

Alfred Kralik (James Stewart), a clerk at Matuschek's, is in love with his pen pal, a woman he's never met. As he arrives at their scheduled meeting, he discovers her to be Klara Novak (Margaret Sullavan), the fellow clerk he bickers with all day. Rather than reveal himself, he works to get her to fall for him naturally while making small inroads to undermine her ideal man[1].

The Shop Around the Corner marks the second entry in the 100 films series from director Ernst Lubitsch[2], a German immigrant who spoke in a halting English but who's films were usually filmed with layers of witty rapport. He possessed a great comic touch, but rarely went into slapstick. As a result, his films are enjoyable to no end. Sure you know that in the end the two leads will realize they are in love with each other, but you're having so much fun watching the proceedings, that you really don't care. Early in the film, Lubitsch inserts a running gag where every time the shop owner asks for an honest opinion, Felix Bressart's Pirovitch immediately leaves the room. He does this maybe five times in the first twenty minutes, and while it may appear to be a simple throwaway gag, he uses it to set a comedic tone for the entire film and give a little bit more depth to Bressart's character. Bressart, for his part, is one of those quirky character actors that populated the films of the 30's and 40's. He's the type of guy you expect to see in a black and white comedy. In fact, you have to wonder if the film might feel a little empty without him. Lubitsch must have thought so, as he employed him often in supporting roles.

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[1] If all this sounds familiar, it's because it was recently remade as that dreadful Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan romantic comedy You've Got Mail (1998). Have no fear, the original is infinitely more enjoyable. So, if your significant other wants to watch You've Got Mail, suggest this instead. It's the same premise, minus all the rubbish, and you won't feel as if you're sacrificing any film snob integrity.

[2] The other being Ninotchka (1939), the Greta Garbo vehicle he filmed while waiting for his cast to become available for this film.

[3] Obviously not, but it is late and I felt like ending on a somewhat clever note.