Even a dashing romantic actor, when on the rheumatic side of fifty, generally gives reluctant way to younger blades. But Maurice Chevalier still remains the work horse of French romantic pictures. His gay straw boater is now a dignified fedora, and it perches at a less rakish angle, befitting his years; but he's still top man in the amatory circuit.

As a turn of the century motion picture producer, Chevalier splits his time between teaching Jacques, a shy young actor, the gentle art of seduction and zealously guarding Madelein, the daughter of an old friend, from all male advances, including his own. Having loved Madeleine's mother, the producer sees his lost love in the winsome daughter, and gradually cases himself off the forbidden list in the young girl's life. When Jacques, armed with his tutor's advice, first meets Madeleine, the picture becomes a Limelight dished up with a light Gallic sauce.

But the plot makes little difference to any Chevalier fan. In caricaturing a spring chicken still trying to scratch in mid-autumn he rises above farce to approach great comedy. His lessons to Jacques in picking up beautiful women are as delightful as they are instructive. And one of the funniest scenes shows Jacques stumbling through an imitation of the master's technique with Madeleine as the target.

Certainly, Chevalier has lost none of the suavity that made him the cane-twirling darling of Continental and American revues. In fact, his charm makes it hard to understand how the young girl could prefer the bumbling young actor. While Francois Perreier, who plays Jacques, is properly eager, mooning and puffing in approximation of romantic ardor, and Marcelle Derrien is a pert and lovely Madeleine, both pale in the light of Chevalier's dazzling smile.

He is the show, and even slapstick has charm in his hands. Rene Clair's direction keeps the pace fast and light, never dragging behind Chevalier's cavorting. Essentially trite in plot, Le Silence Est D'Or is still great fun, and the reason is Chevalier.