Albert Capellani directs Mistinguett as a star of the music hall -- not a terrible stretch -- who comes home while Émile Mylo is burglarizing her boudoir. He heads under the bed and she doesn't notice until she lights a final cigarette, then it's off for les flics, who chase Mylo over the rooftops.
It's a star vehicle and Capellani does her proud, with an overhead shot, but it's the in the medium shots that the audience gets to see Mistinguett's vivacity; the lively way she kicks her shoes off as she prepares for bed is a stagey treat, as is her big reaction when she realizes there's an evil-doer under her bed. Neither does Mylo lack his opportunities, clambering hither and yon, and dangling from a gutter. While it's not a particularly advanced or distinguished bit of film-making, it does what it's supposed to, and that's pretty good.
It's a star vehicle and Capellani does her proud, with an overhead shot, but it's the in the medium shots that the audience gets to see Mistinguett's vivacity; the lively way she kicks her shoes off as she prepares for bed is a stagey treat, as is her big reaction when she realizes there's an evil-doer under her bed. Neither does Mylo lack his opportunities, clambering hither and yon, and dangling from a gutter. While it's not a particularly advanced or distinguished bit of film-making, it does what it's supposed to, and that's pretty good.
