Producer Maurice Ostrer took a bath with this nonsense while the critics who laid into this enjoyable hokum deprived it of an audience that might have savoured it's folly. It's hard to decide whether this is pastiche or straight-faced parody, but the requisite note of lunacy is established right from the start when the very first person you see is Miles Malleson as Offenbach; and the catfight with whips alone justified the price of admission.
Review of Idol of Paris
