Written and directed by Blake Edwards, this is a fast, witty farce about a woman posing as a man posing as a woman in 1930s Paris. Victoria (Julie Andrews) is down on her luck. Oh, not as bad as George Orwell in "Down and Out in Paris and London," but pretty far down, this being the depression. She develops a scheme to cheat her way through a full meal at a restaurant by planting a cockroach in her salad. It more or less works but, more important, she runs into cheerful, savvy, gay Robert Preston who becomes her manager.
Andrews has been unable to find work as a soprano because singers are a glut on the market, but Preston promotes her as a female impersonator. She succeeds wildly. Among the audience at one of her shows in a fancy nightclub is rich James Garner, his coarse moll, Leslie Anne Warren, and his big, beefy bodyguard, Alex Karras.
Garner is sexually aroused by Andrews' sultry performance and when she whips off her headgear and reveals herself as a man named Victor, Garner's face falls marvelously. He's been excited by a MAN! When he gets back to his room he needs to prove his manhood by virtually attacking Warren. Alas, his homosexual anxiety renders him impotent, but Warren is all understanding. "Awww, honey, it's no big deal. Women are lucky. They can fake it. Oh, not with YOU, baby! Listen, just 'cause you can't get it -- Up till now it's been wonderful." After that, it gets complicated.
The writing is sharply witty. In the restaurant, at the very beginning, when Andrews and Preston meet, there is a hilarious exchange between Preston and the waiter, played by Graham Stark as one of those contemptuous French waiters who always seems distracted, as if mentally deconstructing La Pensee Sauvage, you know, and you're interrupting his cogitation. But Preston, being gay, is his equal. Stark pours a glass of white wine for Preston, who squints at it with distaste and remarks, "The last time I saw something like this they had to shoot the horse." Preston is trying to dress Andrews as a man and teach her to act in a masculine fashion. He tells her thoughtfully, "There are two main obstacles we must overcome." Andrews asks, "My bosom?", and then adds that if she has to bind her bosom for years it will wind up looking like an old wallet. After Andrews' success, Preston checks them into a three-star hotel and announces, "You must see the bathroom. It's a religious experience." Much of the humor revolves around gender bending, of course, but the script treats the audience as reasonably sophisticated rather than 19th-century rural twits. I don't think Blake Edwards depends on shock value for laughs. The laughs arise out of the situations.
There are a couple of songs thrown in. Julie Andrews has a splendid voice, and a range that runs from elephantine sub-rumble to air raid siren. The dance numbers are elaborately staged, with what I take to be a deliberate homage to Bob Fosse -- plenty of derbies, clicking fingers, and swiveling pelvises.
There's a mostly dull romantic piece in the mosaic, done seriously, in which Andrews and Garner try to come to terms with the fact that they love each other, although if they want to keep her real sex a secret, they must go dancing at a gay bar. And some of the comic interludes seems a little forced, at least on multiple viewings. Andrews, in her masculine disguise, bravely accepts a cigar -- and coughs. She looks immeasurably better as a woman than as a man. And the final number, in which Preston is in drag and singing one of Andrews' numbers and falling all over himself, isn't really either imaginative or very amusing.
But those are small things. Overall, this is a funny farce, skillfully written, directed, and performed.
Andrews has been unable to find work as a soprano because singers are a glut on the market, but Preston promotes her as a female impersonator. She succeeds wildly. Among the audience at one of her shows in a fancy nightclub is rich James Garner, his coarse moll, Leslie Anne Warren, and his big, beefy bodyguard, Alex Karras.
Garner is sexually aroused by Andrews' sultry performance and when she whips off her headgear and reveals herself as a man named Victor, Garner's face falls marvelously. He's been excited by a MAN! When he gets back to his room he needs to prove his manhood by virtually attacking Warren. Alas, his homosexual anxiety renders him impotent, but Warren is all understanding. "Awww, honey, it's no big deal. Women are lucky. They can fake it. Oh, not with YOU, baby! Listen, just 'cause you can't get it -- Up till now it's been wonderful." After that, it gets complicated.
The writing is sharply witty. In the restaurant, at the very beginning, when Andrews and Preston meet, there is a hilarious exchange between Preston and the waiter, played by Graham Stark as one of those contemptuous French waiters who always seems distracted, as if mentally deconstructing La Pensee Sauvage, you know, and you're interrupting his cogitation. But Preston, being gay, is his equal. Stark pours a glass of white wine for Preston, who squints at it with distaste and remarks, "The last time I saw something like this they had to shoot the horse." Preston is trying to dress Andrews as a man and teach her to act in a masculine fashion. He tells her thoughtfully, "There are two main obstacles we must overcome." Andrews asks, "My bosom?", and then adds that if she has to bind her bosom for years it will wind up looking like an old wallet. After Andrews' success, Preston checks them into a three-star hotel and announces, "You must see the bathroom. It's a religious experience." Much of the humor revolves around gender bending, of course, but the script treats the audience as reasonably sophisticated rather than 19th-century rural twits. I don't think Blake Edwards depends on shock value for laughs. The laughs arise out of the situations.
There are a couple of songs thrown in. Julie Andrews has a splendid voice, and a range that runs from elephantine sub-rumble to air raid siren. The dance numbers are elaborately staged, with what I take to be a deliberate homage to Bob Fosse -- plenty of derbies, clicking fingers, and swiveling pelvises.
There's a mostly dull romantic piece in the mosaic, done seriously, in which Andrews and Garner try to come to terms with the fact that they love each other, although if they want to keep her real sex a secret, they must go dancing at a gay bar. And some of the comic interludes seems a little forced, at least on multiple viewings. Andrews, in her masculine disguise, bravely accepts a cigar -- and coughs. She looks immeasurably better as a woman than as a man. And the final number, in which Preston is in drag and singing one of Andrews' numbers and falling all over himself, isn't really either imaginative or very amusing.
But those are small things. Overall, this is a funny farce, skillfully written, directed, and performed.