New Play in Manhattan

The French Touch (by Joseph Fields & Jerome Chodorov; produced by Herbert H. Harris) is decidedly the wrong touch for the very American jokesters who were responsible for My Sister Eileen and Junior Miss. Recalling that Paris was recently occupied by the Nazis, and assuming that Parisians are always preoccupied with sex, Playwrights Fields & Chodorov have slung together a comedy of terrors in which French patriotism prevails but French eroticism predominates. The resuit -- barring one or two amusing interludes and about every 20th gag -- is forced, monotonous and tinny.

Hero of The French Touch is Roublard, a famous, thrice-married, hammy actor-playwright (Brian Aherne) who is ordered by the Nazi Minister of Culture to write a collaborationist drama. He writes one, with parts for his current and ex-wives and a surprise finale that will explode in the Nazis' faces. During an extensive rehearsal period the three ladies claw one another while Roublard gaily courts them all. The Minister of Culture's interest in one of them (Arlene Francis) precipitates a crisis.

Granting its semi-farcical intentions, The French Touch makes only the sleaziest use of its troubled background, never gives its comic action any tragic edge.

Moreover, there isn't much action -- only jokes about the tomcat in men, the pussy cat in women, the peacock in actors. Nor has famed French Cinema Director Rene Clair (A Nous, La Liberte!) shown the French touch in his staging. Everybody just cavorts.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.