Jacques Tati's strained, on-tiptoes comedy follows the star-director through the funhouse of modern Paris, a maze of corridors, compartments, stairways, entrances and exits. It is often quite beautiful for the sleek surfaces and the straight-lined geography, as well as for the intricate staging in those surroundings, but it sacrifices laughs and pace for that beauty. When the movie settles at last into an extended exercise on the gala opening of a ritzy restaurant, it also sacrifices its unifying idea of the odds-against-Tati. But throughout that lengthy stretch to the finish line, Tati demonstrates a juggler's ability to keep gags coming and going and coming back again, even if he cannot very often get laughs with them. (1968) — Duncan Shepherd
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