Cinema
JOSEPHINE AND MEN. (Plaza. )—Las CLAN- DESTINES. (Marble Arch Pavilion.) IN the vicarious life of the films the things which make people cry could probably be numbered; on how many fingers of how many hands I would not care to say, but ranging from hopeless bravery to the British Grena- diers they could, I feel sure, be catalogued by a reasonably dedicated statistician. The things that make people laugh, however, are as un- predictable as the behaviour of a binged butter- fly, and the more comedies I see the more do I realise how onerous is the task set before their directors. Everybody can be guaranteed to cry at the departure of a troopship, and a director of such a scene has an unfair advan- tage over his colleague in the comedy field who knows, with equal certainty, that every- body does not laugh at the slow-trip. There is no sure formula for inducing merriment, but although it must always be a hit-or-miss affair he has to try, at any rate, to amuse the world.
Now Josephine and Men is a comedy about a girl who only loves .men when they are in need of mothering. Glynis Johns is the tender- heart, Donald Sinden and Peter Finch the men who take turn and turn about to merit cherish- ing. Jack Buchanan, arch-sophisticate, plays the part of a world-wise uncle, the film is written by Nigel Balchin, directed by the Boulting brothers. It is lively, it is well acted, its story, though every move can be foreseen, is by no means as silly as most. With my eye and my ear I noted all this, yet to me it was a sad, soggy, flat, little pancake of a thing, and I ate it in gloomy silence. Not 60 my neigh- bours. They laughed and smacked their lips. To my mind, of course, I have a perfect sense of humour, and yet with this laughter ringing in my ears I feel it would be too presumptu- ous to state authoritatively that Josephine is not funny. Honest critics should, perhaps, eschew all comedies, or make known at the outset their humorous preferences. For what value is the judgement of a knockabout addict to a lover of verbal wit; *what pen, however acicular, can pierce the mists which divide the Hope fan from the Wisdom?
Mercifully Les Clandestine: Is not supposed to be funny. Supplied with a giant 'X' as a magnet, it concerns itself with the French equivalents to call-girls, those plushy dames who sit in luxurious fiats waiting for Madames to send them millionaires. Nicole Courcel is the heroine, a mannequin who is sacked from her job, runs short of money and is driVen, in desperation, to the negligee and the bottle of champagne. The fiends who manipulate the telephone wires are Alex D'Arcy, Maria Mauban and Dominique Wilms; the hero, u. youth just out of prison who is looking every- where for his grandmother, Philippe Lemair. The film is excellent until it deteriorates into melodramatics, until it abandons trade secrets. as it were, for revolvers. And it is very well directed by Raoul Andre whose large close-ups, beautifully photographed, make a lasting impression.
VIRGINIA 09ABASI
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