Sometimes you watch films for others, and this was one of them. I thought it might lighten darker days, but it had the effect of making me very depressed. Not about its content but about why it was made at all. Deborah Kerr in her most true blue way was terrible to watch, filled with empty mannerisms and surrounded by greed and wealth. She could be a good actress and a mediocre one, and this performance was truly bad. She marries a very rich Frenchman played by Rossano Brazzi ( the Italian accent made this nonsense ) and they have a young son who should never have been let out of the playpen!!! He complicates their lives and plays with a small Guillotine ( don't even think about it ) and the one good actor, Patricia Medina is given a rotten role of no consequence. There is also Maurice Chevalier being as always himself, and seemingly incapable of doing anything else as Brazzi's father. Accents clash again, even topping Kerr's excruciating high-pitched and immitating badly the Queen of England's voice. Negulesco directed some stinkers at the end of his career and this is one of them. Snobbish and unendurable this film grinds to a halt in one of the most absurd scenes I have ever seen in what is sometimes laughingly called the cinema. I recommed it to all those who kick expensive furniture ( as Kerr does ) and who say, " I am not French!! I am English, English, English ", and let them endure this travesty of cinematic self-indulgence.
Review of Count Your Blessings
