THE BED

New Zealand Listener, Volume 36, Issue 922, 12 April 1957, Page 17

THE BED

(Terra Film-Cormoran Film-1.C.S.) R: 16 years and over FFHAND, I can’t remember a group of short stories that was not uneven as a film, so I didn’t give up hope when the first in this Franco-Italian group was disappointing. My hope was _ justified, for a rather embarrassing Richard Todd as an English officer in Normandy, kept from his bed because the woman who is billeting him gives birth to a child, is succeeded by a thoroughly Gallic story about the latter day occupants of a bed that once belonged to. Madame Pompadour. The third does something to maintain the tone: a respectable married man seeking divorce engages a professional co-respondent. Finally a cheerful longdistance lorry driver, used to spending his nights on the road, has an odd encounter with a rich young heiress whose home is near by. In a familiar tradition, these stories are not nearly as naughty as they sound. The exception is the second, vintage French bedroom farce with Martine Carol, Francois Périer and Bernard Blier, played at a pace that left me a bit breathless. Directed by Jean Delannoy, it’s both the naughtiest and the most stylish of the four. Style, I think, is pretty important in a film of this sort, and a little more might have improved the story about the husband and the co-

respondent. It has some delightful touchesthere’s a boy friend on a Hudson ferry boat who keeps ringing the girl to see if she has come to any harm-the dialogue is good, and really I liked this piece very much. But I had the feeling that it might at any moment get out of hand. It didn’t, but it was a near thing. The players are Vittorio de Sica (most of us know him best as a director) and Dawn Addams. What shall I say of the last story? Well, while I could believe in it I liked it best of all. It has charm and insight into character. But you stop believing, and then With an old trick that I won’t accept any more it’s all explained. It’s a pity, for it is good while it lasts. Francoise Arnoul

is the girl and a delightful fellow named Mouloudji the boy. We look for a high standard in films with this flavour, as we should. This one, you'll gather, is patchy. Yet if your taste runs to this sort of humour, as mine does, you may be grateful for the chance to have a glass of bubbly even three-quarters full. After all, it has been a dry summer.