All the elements in the timeless tradition of boudoir intrigue are thrown into Mille. Gobette at a pace that makes it the epitome of bubbling French farces. It overflows with bedrooms, undressing, disguised identity, and incorruptible officials of the French government. All it needs is a king.

The film bursts along by following a few days in the life of a rather active chanteuse (Silvano Pampanini) who climbs the rungs of the civil service hierarchy faster than anyone of the opposite sex has been able to climb. After seducing the prosecutor assigned to throw her out of town for risque performances she continues with an austere provincial judge, and then "The Minister" in Paris. These four leading parts are all neatly cast, as are the many juicy minor roles in which such European films abound. The judge's wife is a coy hippopotamus; his maid is a laughing machine. The minister's major domo is a Machiavelli in bell-boy's clothes, while the underling who must constantly rewrite his chief's spur of the moment decrees is a charming harassed guppy.

Pietro Germi, who directed Mlle. Gobette, shuffles his characters around the screen with the dexterity of a skilled poker player, bluffing for the fun of it, but keeping all the high cards. His intrigues are helped by the apt dialogue which is, surprisingly, translated into fairly literate subtitles. Mr. Germi has succeeded where most others have succeeded. A French farce is a French farce.

The Brattle also offers a handful of UPA cartoons, by far the best of which is the original prizewinning Gerald McBoing Boing.