greenfrog

Ho hum, one of those predictable puffballs about a feuding loving couple where the wife's insincere flirting with another man makes her husband fume -- and the wise-ass little kid has to conspire to get them back together. OK, Errol Flynn works well. Much better fun watching him not take himself too seriously in a comedy than not take life seriously in his routine swashbucklers. (I guess he was drawn to predictable art.) The whole "Uncle Phil" thing became tedious through repetition. And the naive corporal was too naive to ever let loose with a uniform and a gun. The wife was beautiful and a trouper, and read her lines well. But the fun part for me was guessing whether or not it really was Bogie's voice dubbed over Errol Flynn's Bogie parody scene. I'm betting it really was Humphrey Bogart. Can anyone verify?

What superb direction -- and please, hard as it is, believe this is the same Norman Taurog that basted more Elvis Presley turkeys than any other director. Here, Taurog is the star, slowed down only by an uneven cast and a script that creaked in a couple of places as it flexed its plot. Deborah Kerr is supreme, though, as the sentimental English poppy who is tricked up and down until she buckles on her sound, common sense English ingenuity and carries the day. And she had some carrying to do: co-star Mark Stevens is pure avoirdupois with no sense of the camera. Nice jackets, though. Peter Lawford is perfect as the rich guy with a sense of fun, flaunting his sleek biceps and slim waist in a swimming pool scene he steals with aplomb. The script is a beaut, too, but the way Taurog fills each scene with exposition and shtick is a joy to behold. The lighting is highly skilled 40s workmanship. And check the roulette scene for b/w colour play. But the scene that is all Seven Wonders of Hollywood script- writing rolled into one is the showdown in gangster Quinn's office. Unbeatable for its half a dozen plot twists inside three minutes. Believe me.

A strange film. Riddled with clumsiness: fight scenes with punches missing by a mile and ridiculuous Foley work using interior echo for outdoor action; people working as lumberjacks wearing clean shirts at the end of the day, etc. etc.

Funny too that the actor Bourvil, best known as a comedian, comes across as

slightly mean, taciturn and unpleasant in a role obviously written to be warm- hearted. An aging Lino Ventura is frankly embarrassing as the romantic lead,

and his lazy gambit of instilling drama by lighting up yet another Gauloise or Gitane (count 'em!) should have been jumped on and stubbed out by the

director. The plot seems to borrow hugely from American films, and there is little local flavour. The bizarre highlight is the gang of convicts letting their hair down on a fairground carousel, gaily tossing confetti at each other, followed by the dramatic denouement when one of the convicts refuses to let a rival have a turn on a fairground game! Zut alors!