Paris Model (1953)
5/10
Dressing for success can lead into a mess.
23 February 2017
Warning: Spoilers
When beautiful women play men like a fiddle, the strings can sound pretty but often lead to a song of doom. Using men for money can only work as long as the dollar signs from one gender lead to bedroom eyes from the other. This is a quartet of four stories of such women, all using a supposed Paris original as bait. There's the glamorous Eva Gabor, charming Tom Conway to distraction until he's entranced by a new model, hard working secretary Paulette Goddard with designs on her married boss (with a twist straight out of "Paris Original" from "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying"), Marilyn Maxwell as the society wife who grabs the wallet while her husband hands her a bill.

"I want a dress. You know, the Marilyn Maxwell type, that makes a man go boom!" Goddard proclaims. It's ironic that Maxwell appears here as someone other than herself, showing that the writer's tongue was in their cheek. However, the title is deceiving, insinuating that this is set in Paris and deals with the lives of models, but the model of the title simply describes the dress, obviously copied from the original and ripped off for sale overseas. The ken are saps for their beautiful women, although Conway gets one over on Gabor and Leif Erickson finds that he's doomed to be nagged even with the temptations of a secretary. Wealthy Cecil Kellaway becomes a target for the ambitious Maxwell, and . In her last film, the delightful Florence Bates takes on a heavy Irish accent as Kellaway's imperious wife, the funniest nag on film. In a bit as her friend, Almira Sessions adds more laughs just by giving a pickle pussed smirk.

This is just simple entertainment, a bit of "Tales of Manhattan", " Flesh and Fantasy" and "We're Not Married" with light hearted humor throughout and a subtle jab at the pretentiousness of the fashion industry. Bates, a lesser known character actress, comes off as a combination of Dame May Witty and Ethel Barrymore, gets the best moment in the film with a hysterical twist in the sequence she's featured in. From Paris to New York and finally to Hollywood, it ends off on a more obvious farcical theme with Barbara Lawrence as the daughter of Swedish immigrants (papa played by the bane of my character actor existence) trying to get into Romanoff's with no reservation with overconfident husband Robert Hutton and her getting the personal table of Prince Michael Romanoff, creating really nothing to happen. Ironically, it's this sequence that is trying to be the funniest that ends up being the weakest.
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