Although Danny Kaye may never become a great Hamlet, his acting talents extend far beyond the clowning and double-talk which have become his trademark. In his latest movie, he plays a Polish Jew fleeing the Nazis, and the comedy, while still there, is understandably subdued. His natural humor and warmth are modified by a wistful realism, revealing depth of character which had hitherto been lost among the slapstick.

Me and the Colonel is an extremely successful movie version of S. N. Berman's Jacobowsky and the Colonel, which was itself an adaptation of an earlier play by the German writer, Franz Werfel. Despite the fact that it is essentially comic and optimistic, the main interest lies in the character of the anti-semitic Polish officer who is also escaping the German onslaught, and is forced to join Jacobowsky in the flight from Paris. Before the inevitable conclusion in which fellowship overcomes prejudice, the Colonel displays most of the personal traits idealized by the pursuing enemy.

As played by Curt Jurgens, the colonel is the classic Prussian soldier: "I don't think, I act. Food--I eat, woman--I love, war--I fight." At which point Jacobowsky murmurs, "The finest mind of the 12th Century."

The fact that people who have a vivid memory of the horrors of World War II are able to laugh heartily and without uneasiness at this character is a curious phenomenon. If he were obviously a caracature, an unbelievable reductio ad absurdum of certain germanic traits, it would be easier to understand. But Werfel's Colonel, while perhaps exaggerated, is nevertheless real; and the qualities we all find so amusing were terrorizing the world for six years.

Even more startling is the success of Chaplin's The Great Dictator, which is currently being re-released to convulsed audiences in Europe. Interspersed scenes such as Hitler doing a balloon dance with a globe are obvious ridicule, with very doubtful historic basis. But the story focuses on a sort of polar struggle between the gestapo and "the ghetto," which seems incredibly funny even to Europeans.

Me and the Colonel escapes censure for bad taste by taking attention away from the common plight of the two central characters, shifting it to their conflicting philosophies. "In life, there are always two possibilities," asserts Jacobowsky, to which the Colonel replies, "There is only one--to die with honor."

In a movie of this type, it is a rare director who can resist the temptation to play up the ominous threat of the Nazis. Peter Glenville manages to stay away from this chestnut until the end, when it is consequently more effective. Although his direction is not brilliant, it is consistent, and while the camera work generally dull, there are a few good moments.

It is heartening to know that the movie world can still adapt a play without abandoning its more serious and "difficult" aspects. Me and the Colonel is a very fine example.