“BATTLE OF PARIS”

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 927, 21 March 1930, Page 17

“BATTLE OF PARIS”

GERTRUDE LAWRENCE IS DELIGHTFUL GAY, SPARKLING COMEDY “The Battle of Paris,” which opened last evening at the Majestic, demonstrates that a slim English girl can play Mr. Maurice Chevalier at his own game and prove at feast his equal in every department of it. JIJER name is Gertrude Lawrence. She is one of the reasons why one welcomes talkies. She provides an hour or so of sheer delight at the Majestic; an hour or so in which there are no nasal mumblings, no cheap wit, no mediocre and meaningless singing, none of those things which ought not "to be, but are so frequently done in talkie musical shows. In an all-round way “The Battle of Paris,” made by Paramount and rather reminiscent of Chevalier’s “Innocents of Paris,” though a good deal better than the French star’s production' in technique and story strength, is an excellent picture—bright, breezy, carefully directed, genuine in atmosphere, and strongly cast. Yet the impression that remains is of a wonderfully clever comedienne, the quality of whoso work stands out far above anything else. It is difficult for a comparatively unknown leading woman to break down the curious reserve of a cinema audience which is summing-up the stranger for the first time in a fea-ture-length film. It is more difficult still if she is attempting to make the house laugh. Yet, last evening, a big Majestic audience took Gertrude Lawrence to its heart, laughed with her, revelled in her vivacious singing, admired her light and graceful acting, listened to her expressive, musical voice . . . accepted her for what she is—one of the few really great artists talkies have lured from the stage. Gertrude Lawrence plays a penniless young artist in pre-war Paris, who

falls in love with an American for whom she poses as a model. Her inseparable companions are three jolly ruffians—a Frenchman, an American adventurer, and an Englishman. The war comes, and the men leave for the front. The girl becomes a nurse and they all meet once more in a base hospital where, apparently, the medical superintendent raises no objection to the staging of a miniature revue in a sick ward. After the men are discharged the girl goes to meet her lover, but finds him at a fashionable cafe with another woman. With her trusty trio in tow she invades the place, throws herself into the whirl of the evening, and becomes an immense success, and wins her man back. There are other and exciting happenings, but everything works out smoothly in the end amid music and} comedy ad lib. Every few moments from the beginning to the end of this fascinating show, Gertrude Lawrence distributes laughter. And when she is not making the most of her dialogue work, she is singing or whistling irresistibly. Gertrude Lawrence in everything she does before the camera is an objectlesson to her American friends in pictures, and the lesson makes “The Battle of Paris” a picture that, quite definitely, should not be missed. It is supported at the Majestic by a strong musical and pictorial programme.