Kismet is an effective honey-coated sleeping pill, but as entertainment it's about as thrilling as an old circus poster. Based on the Broadway musical of a couple of seasons ago, the film has one claim to fame--its sets support more gilt paint per square foot than those of any other picture of 1955. But as soon as almost any one of the actors opens his mouth, the Cinemascoped splendor of Hollywood-Oriental interiors cannot hide the sad thruth that sets are just not a very satisfactory substitute for either comedy or music.

In keeping with its Arabian-Nights locale, the picture has a highly improbable plot about a poet who possesses a shapely daughter but no money and, to judge by his verses, no talent. His rise to prosperity involves, of course, an evil wizard and a prince who runs around the streets of Baghdad incognito. Howard Keel, as the poet, is just entertaining enough to suggest that with even half-decent material he might give a fine performance. Ann Blyth does not distinguish her fairly easy part as the poet's daughter, but she does not ruin it either. The same, unfortunately can not be said of Vic Damone, the prince, who has a mediocre singing voice and not enough talent as an actor to earn him a part in a high school play.

The music for the picture was patched together from themes by Alexander Borodin. Most of it has an annoyingly sugary flavor, even the best song, Stranger in Paradise. Nevertheless, the score remains one of the better parts of a discouraging production. But in the last analysis, there is only one reason why anyone looking for entertainment should go to see Kismet--it is easier to get to than any other movie in town.