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Me and the Colonel:
Columbia Pictures,
October, 1958
New York Times, August 27, 1958
Danny Kaye and the Colonel;
Jacobowsky Is Star's Latest Surprise Adaptation of
Stage Hit Has Dual Premiere
By BOSLEY CROWTHER
Danny Kaye is the great one for surprises. Having
clowned a little bit of everything, from James
Thurber's Walter Mitty to Hans Christian Andersen,
he is now trying ever so discreetly to clown the
plight of a Jewish refugee in Columbia's "Me and the
Colonel," which came to the Odeon and Fine Arts
yesterday.
As the titular party of the first part in the Franz
Werfel-S. N. Behrman play "Jacobowsky and the
Colonel," now transferred to the screen, he has to
make something poignant and amusing of the problems
of this rootless little Jew trying to get out of
France ahead of the Nazis in 1940, in company with
an anti-Semitic Pole. The latter is played by Curt
Jurgens, who is ordinarily far removed from Mr.
Kaye.
Can you imagine anything more surprising for a light
comedian to try to play?
Let it be said to the credit of Danny that he has
not only the nerve to tackle a role of such delicate
nature but he has also the skill and sensitivity to
give it a lot of gentle humor and moving sympathy.
His picture of Jacobowsky, the good-natured little
man who has had so much experience with fleeing that
he has become thoroughly schooled in the techniques
of flight, is that of a patient, kindly and even
gallant philosopher, equally temperate in the face
of absurdity or adversity.
Even when his companion, the Polish colonel who
makes no bones about his dislike of Jews, insists on
driving the car that Jacobowsky has purchased in the
direction from which the Nazis approach, he does no
more than flutter his fingers and assume a hopeless
look. And when it finally seems as if he will be
captured by the Nazis, he takes it stoically.
Indeed, the behavior of Jacobowsky is so temperate,
as performed by Mr. Kaye, that it is likely to
arouse much more impatience in the audience than it
does in him. Especially is this true when it is
realized that the principal cause of his despairs is
the thick-headed Polish colonel, who is a mountain
of vast stupidity.
This may be the way that Mr. Werfel and Mr. Behrman
intended the man, and it may be the way he is
repeated in the screen play of Mr. Behrman and
George Froeschel. But it is hard to believe that he
should come through as thick and moronic and absurd
as he is in the ponderously Germanic farce
performance that Mr. Jurgens gives.
It is dryly amusing and ironic when Jacobowsky tells
him, "There is no doubt that you have one of the
best minds of the twelfth century." But it is
provoking to have to watch such denseness cause
despair through the best part of the film. And that
is the sole complication until almost the very end.
Brighter and happier participants are Akim Tamiroff
and Nicole Maurey, the former as the aide to the
colonel and the latter as his strangely loyal girl.
Mr. Tamiroff makes some good low humor as a bumbling
but well-intending goof, and Miss Maurey introduces
some welcome beauty and a hint of incongruous
romance.
The ending of it all is pure contrivance, and Peter
Glenville, the director, has done more with Mr.
Kaye's eyes than with his scenes of action. But
there's the picture—in the face of Mr. Kaye.
Me and the Colonel:
Columbia Pictures,
October, 1958 |
