"The French Line" was a Howard Hughes-produced opus in 3-D, designed to showcase star Jane Russell (you can make your own guesses what the purpose of putting this innocuous musical in 3-D was...I'll give you two!). To be kind, its no "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes", to which it has some similarities.
Jane plays a Texas girl who is a reluctant millionairess - she has inherited her late father's ranch, which happens to be sitting on copious oil fields. But poor Jane only wants a man who will love her for who she is, not her money. She bewails her lot to her friend and guardian, ranch hand Arthur Hunnicutt, when her latest beau, Craig Stevens, jilts her before heading to the altar because he, like all the others, can't handle having a rich wife. Hunnicutt talks her into not canceling her planned wedding cruise to Paris on the French line, the Liberte (as pronounced by Jane, the Li-burr-tay), only she decides to go incognito so she can catch a man who knows nothing about her money.
Well, first of all, do you really think a millionairess who happens to look like Jane Russell would have such problems? This is purely a confection of a film and not worth worrying about plot lines, but its all just pretty damn silly. And unfortunately, someone decided it should be a musical except all the blah numbers are staged very awkwardly. Jane is beautiful, but hasn't much to work with here and leading man Gilbert Roland seems both a bit too mature as a match for her and definitely too Spanish to play a Frenchman (they try to pawn it off by giving him a Spanish mother). It all ends with a fashion show which just may be the most ludicrous of many far-fetched Hollywood fashion shows. And by now, all the naughtiness which got this opus condemned by the League of Decency and denied a Production seal (Jane's skimpy costumes and bumps & grinds) seem fit for a toddler to watch.
