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Coming to the Met

By J. M.

Abbott and Costello have exhausted the usual stage sets for burlesque intermission comedy. Now, after stealing uniforms from the Army and Navy, they are poaching on the domain of Dorothy Lamour. A foursome composed of this comedy team and a colorless love team are shipwrecked on a Lamour island, where the whole squad wastes an hour of celluloid trapping the usual hard-boiled spy ring. Costello canters around in a ridiculous costume, dodging palm trees, spears, and a herd of dusky sarongsterettes who think it's Sadie Hawkin's day. He ends up out of breath, prying adoring arms off his bulging neck, and, as always, a Quixotic hero.

Virginia Bruce is still anemic despite her long rest from film activity, and what acting she does is equally pale. The leading man isn't worth notice, and Costello has, by dint of sheer bulk, crowded Abbott almost off the screen. Briefly, it's Abbott and Costello slightly worse than usual, funny or nauseating, according to your taste. Unconfirmed rumors from Universal's lot say that Dottie Lamour can have her old job back now, while June Priesser must step out and let the comedians go ahead with a new co-ed campus picture to be entitled, "Sweater-Boy."

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