Farce is comedy based on misunderstanding: if the characters would stop and explain themselves to each other, there'd be no story. In Britain, the farce tradition has been embodied by the Aldwych farces of Ben Travers, the Whitehall farces starring Brian Rix, and various bumpheries by Ray Cooney. In France, the most famous farceur is Georges Feydeau. His farces typically contain lots of slamming doors as characters narrowly evade each other, several of them bearing false identities.
This movie's action takes place during the Belle Epoque, which emphasises the creakiness of the material. Même Crevette is a dancer at Maxim's restaurant, but it's clear that her main income source is another profession (guess which). She gives herself to many men -- no, she rents by the hour -- but apparently she's sincerely in love with handsome young Lieutenant Corignon. It must be love, because she doesn't charge him for her favours. But other men pay well, which explains how she ends up in the flat of Lucine Petypon, a so-respectable doctor. Suddenly his rich uncle, a general, arrives. Caught flat-footed, Dr Petypon explains that Même is his wife. (Contrivedly, the general has never met his nephew's real wife.) Petypon intends to keep up the imposture just long enough to mollify his uncle, but Même decides to keep it going, much to his chagrin.
This explains why Petypon and Même land up at his uncle's château, with Même still posing as Madame Petypon. But then the doctor's real wife shows up. And so does Corignon, who turns out to be engaged to the general's niece. Ooh, la la! This film could have used a Maxim's silencer. I found it too loud, with everybody shrieking at each other in thick French accents. The pacing is frenetic rather than manic, and I found it quite wearying. The single-named actor Palau gives a good performance as Petypon's henchman Dr Mongicourt, but all the other characters seem to be playing stock stereotypes rather than human beings. The production values are good, though. In all, 4 out of 10.
