Two Frenchmen, Charles Boyer and Jean-Paul Sartre, whose particular dramatic talents this reviewer has previously regarded with skepticism, have not only redeemed themselves in "Red Gloves," but have brought to Boston the best new drama since Mr. Williams' "Streetear" of last year. "Red Gloves" is a generally well-written and always engrossing play that for the first time shows Mr. Boyer to be an actor of considerable abilities.

The play is a cleverly-manipulated indictment of the internal workings of the Communist Party in an anonymous European country which M. Sartre does not call France. A young intellectual-idealist has been selected by Moscow to assassinate the national party leader (Boyer), who is believed to be preparing a compromise with the government. Before the agent can do this, his wife falls in love with the intended victim. He finally commits the murder just when he finds her in the arms of the leader.

Then, in a master-stroke of double irony on M. Sartre's part, the party line reverse and the murdered leader is to be declared a martyr, and the young assassin, the intellectual who would be a man-of-action, can never decide for himself whether he killed the leader on obedience to convictions or in a fit of passion. Deprived of the satisfaction of the former and now on the party's liquidation list, he is led off the stage in a fit of tormented laughter as the last curtain falls.

The assassin is the sensitive, thoughtful man who is incapable of compromise, who loves people "not for what they are but for what they will become." He is aware of his own inefficacy in a world he would have perfect. He is the impatient, compassionleas idealist who has lived to see his own bones go-into the making of bricks for a shrine to his avowed enemy.

The party leader is the realist who accepts people as they are and is willing to wear red gloves to hide the blood on his hands if that will advance the party cause.

M. Sartre has written "Red Gloves" with an objective eye on the conflict between the two arguments represented by the assassin and the leader. It is not so tersely-written or compact a play as "No Exit", neither is it as outlandishly unrealistic and clumsy as "The Respectful Prostitute." Except for the sudden flaming-up of the love between the leader and the wife which seemed as if it had only just been scribbled on the margin of the script, M. Sartre has written a play that American playwrights could be well to study.

The direction by Jed Harris is at least responsible for the lack of these little reminders that one usually gets in seeing a translation from another tongue. Mr. Boyer's accent is the only Gallic touch, and that is evenly balanced by the whole personality of John Dall (the assassin), who is as Indiana as all get-out. Mr. Dall's acting style is not unlike James stewart's, and that of course is not bad at all. Joan Tetzel plays the confusing role of the wife with assurance. In the female division, however, she is topped by the performance of Anna Karen in the more clearly-defined role of a subordinate party official.

Honest and hearty congratulations to Mr. Boyer on his timely escape from the Casbah; ditto to M. Sartre on a really intelligent, gripping play.