Come Dance with Me!

Brigitte Bardot was so completely feminine, playful, beautiful, and witty, she couldn't miss connecting with the male sector of any movie-going audience. And the women must have hated her, or at least envied her to tears.

Bardot's face is so luminous, focusing upon it is more stimulating than seeing close-up, revealing body shots of her contemporaries such as Eckberg and Lollobrigida. She could take a mediocre, or in this case, convoluted plot, and save a film which would have been a dud with just about any other female star.

The film is fast-paced, and suspenseful, in so far as the futility of trying to guess the culprit's identity, prior to the odds and ends being tied up neatly, in the end. And it far surpasses Bardot's collaboration with director Michel Boisrond, in "Mme. Pigalle," produced three years earlier. That one is filled with artifice and "mannerisms." such as fake auto rides, background landscape fakery, lip-synch singing, fake piano playing, and the stereotypical bumbling, "moronic cops" syndrome, so prevalent in films of the time. This film contains no artifice, or editing "tricks," whatsoever, and while it lacks for substance, it is entertaining, and the Bardot charisma at this most appealing stage of her life, stays with one, long after the curtain rings down.

Henri Vidal, in his final role before his untimely death at age 40, is well-cast, as Bardot's husband who is being blackmailed by femme fatale Dawn Addams, herself a red-headed stunner who exits the film much too soon to suit the male voyeur contingent.

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