Slightly French (Douglas Sirk / U.S., 1949):

All women are actresses, "that was the insinnuendo." "Insinuation. Or innuendo." "You go to your church and I'll go to mine." The director (Don Ameche) is "a purist," his demanding exactitude unravels the Gallic leading lady (Adele Jergens), he's sacked and production is halted. From studio to carnival is a short distance, Dorothy Lamour as the versatile trouper (Carmen Miranda drag, Limehouse yellowface and Moulin Rouge getup in the same evening) catches his eye. The fabrication of a continental ingénue from the ground up is the lesson in art, "my interest is purely technical," she meanwhile falls head over heels for the Svengali. "I'll be as French as... french fries!" Land of "imitations," the perfect setting for Douglas Sirk's showbiz Pygmalion. The hard-boiled gal softens in the face of Hollywood glamor, fashion and diction and poise comprise the exhaustive overhaul at the hands of the cheerfully sadistic instructor (Jeanne Manet). "I want to learn about love from you," sings the finished product reflected on an oval mirror, her other big number is a sumptuous pirouette through ersatz Paris in anticipation of the Minnelli-Kelly ballet. The producer (Willard Parker) ponders the mysterious diva with a nagging sense of déjà vu, only slowly realizing that he prefers the filmmaker's tart sister (Janis Carter). Cf. Ophüls' The Company's in Love, the crackup takes place before an applauding audience of tuxedoed journalists. "Oh non, out of the question! Even thinking of it gives me the... goosesteps." The deeply Sirkian resolution seeks emotion amidst artifice, an authentic kiss before the camera on a soundstage. In black and white.

--- Fernando F. Croce

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