"Just the usual hoke," says an actor in "Holiday Inn" playing a Hollywood director. His comment, applied to the entire motion picture, in almost, but not quite, in order. The "hoke" in "Holiday Inn" is the old-fashioned, pollyannish product that Hollywood continues to turn out year after year. The only qualification that must be made is that "Holiday Inn" has a lot more to offer.

It has, for instance, the tap dancing of Fred Astaire, who clicks his heels and tocs through several excellent routines. In the best of these he dances better while playing a drunk than most of the hoofers could cold sober. Throughout "Holiday Inn" Astaire plays a foil for Bing Crosby. In this film, a Paramount re-release, Crosby's voice and hairline are still intact. He sings an excellent selection of Irving Berlin tunes--"Easter Parade," "Be Careful, It's My Heart," and, of course "White Christmas." The result is like a greeting card: it has no art and no subtlety, but it's pleasant to see.

Playing on the same bill at the Metropolitan is the Preston Sturges comedy, "The Lady Eve." This film, also an old-timer, is a sophisticated piece about a confidence woman and the heir to the fortunes of Pike's Pale, "The Ale that Won for Yale." The dialogue abounds in double entendres of the highest order. At the same time, "The Lady Eve" has its share of slapstick, too. Henry Fonda, as the slow-witted heir, takes no less than nine pratfalls in the course of the movie.

Barbara Stauwyek does an excellent job as the soft-hearted gold digger. Needless to say, eventually she really falls for the guy. No one will mind this, however, because it's just more comic material for Preston Sturges to work with. There's no "hoke" in "The Lady Eve." Far from it.