That Naughty Girl (1956)

Smooth nightclub singer Jean Clery (a solid and affable performance by Jean Bretonniere) has to take care of lovely and precocious schoolgirl Brigitte Latour (exuberantly played with tremendous verve and sexiness by Brigitte Bardot) after Brigitte's father gets in trouble with the police for possible forgery. Naturally, Brigitte turns Jean's life topsy turvy. Director Michel Boisrond, who also co-wrote the blithely inane script with Roger Vadim, relates the wacky story at a constant snappy pace, stages the slapstick set pieces with considerable skill and flair, and maintains a likable lightweight tone throughout. Of course, Bardot's delectable'n'delightful effervescent presence keeps things bubbling along; her boundless vivacity and striking pulchritude are a total treat to watch. Mischa Auer has a funny bit as a bumbling dance choreographer. Raymond Bussieres easily cops the top acting honors with his excellent and engaging portrayal of Jean's loyal befuddled butler Jerome. The song and dance numbers are a lot of merry fun. Moreover, a sassy sharp-tongued parrot provides some of the film's best and biggest belly laughs. Kudos are also in order for Joseph C. Brun's vibrant widescreen cinematography and the infectiously jaunty score by Henri Colli, Rene Denoncin, and Hubert Rostaing. A pleasant and amusing romp.

Wanted by the police, is Nightclub owner Paul Latour, as he's suspected of forgery within a counterfeit ring. So he leaves the country to try the clear his name. In doing so, he has left his "baby" daughter Brigitte to stay with his nightclub performer Jean Clery, who's soon to be married to psychoanalyst Lily. When Brigitte enters Jean's life, everything turns upside as he tries to cope until Paul returns back for her. Knee-jerk and overly quirky French romantic comedy farce sees the drop dead gorgeous Brigitte Bardot (looking real adorable) getting into a lot of trouble with her ditsy and free-spirited character. The material (written by Roger Vadim and Michel Boisrond) isn't nothing we hadn't seen before, but it holds a solid foundation to draw upon many amusing avenues and the script had a juicy, chic and snappy vibe that only added more to the fun. Director Michel Boisrond's lively sense keeps the running gags flowing (which do work), inventive visuals (split-screens), fast rhythm and sets-up a couple of very well choreographed dance numbers that go onto show how alluring the young lady could be. A very-light weight, silly, bright and zesty feature goes onto shape it with plenty of humorous appeal and charm that streams throughout to its chaotic climax and finally surprising conclusion. Also seducing the audience other than Bardot is the tantalizing music score. Joseph Brun placed the camera in the ideal spot with some adventurous framing finding its way in too. Jean Bretonnière who appears opposite of his co-star, holds his own nicely. Mischa Auer was perfectly tailored for the zany comic touches. An enjoyably fashionable slice of Brigitte Bardot.

A red-headed 21 y/o Brigitte Bardot is completely beautiful and charming in this easygoing tale. Ms. Bardot is charming and delightful as a klutzy young lady who completely wins you over. This is not one of her better films and she plays a complete innocent in this compared to her sexier roles.A 5 out of 10. Best performance = B. Bardot. Misha Auer is amusing as a dance choreographer. There's not a lot to recommend except for the lovely and naive Brigitte. All of her films are worth seeing, even the sillier ones such as this. It's hard to believe she made AND GOD CREATED WOMAN the same year as this. Long live BB!

Bardot is gorgeous and so is the production, which aspires to a near-Hollywood gloss, but this is mainly tired, formula comedy smelling faintly of imitation Damon Runyon. Bretonniere is no Yves Montand, and BB's big dance number is a failed imitation of Leslie Caron's introduction in "An American in Paris". Fans of "Time Code" (or perhaps "Tucker") may enjoy some clever split-screen effects that appear to have been achieved with trick sets instead of multiple exposures. A potential guilty pleasure for those who crave 50s CinemaScope eye candy.