In what is only her third screen role, Moreau displays tantalizing hints of the magnetic screen presence to come, particularly when director André Berthomieu catches her in close-up. With characteristic resolve, she portrays Pâquerette, a flower girl who works at Le Tambourin, a cavernous Pigalle club where customers are thin on the ground.
As the club's staff and talent begin to drop like flies, Le Tambourin's patron and his crooked cohorts pull a risky (and visually thrilling) bank job in order to keep the place afloat. When they then refuse to share the booty with their guest orchestra, led by real-life conductor extraordinaire Jacques Hélian, the musicians revolt and steal it for themselves. Joining forces with Pâquerette, they open a rival club in Saint-Germain, the lively quarter of Paris's sixth arrondissement.
André Berthomieu's punchy and occasionally raucous picture liberally mixes elements from the musical, farce and crime genres, often all within the same scene. The seasoned director keeps the plot rattling along at a fair crack and his cast clearly has great fun with the material.
Hélian and his orchestra, who pinch top billing from Moreau, give the piece real joie de vivre. They contribute a slew of exuberant musical interludes, not least a frantic opening rendition of Khatchatourian's The Sabre Dance. The screenplay, meanwhile, fizzles in a similar manner. ("Advice is like a toothpick," snaps Moreau. "It shouldn't be shared.")
This is a rare and not-to-be-missed opportunity to see the early work of one of France's most enduringly popular talents.
Chris Wiegand