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Cinema: Goldfarb v. The People

1 minute read

John Goldfarb, Please Come Home is the puny Hollywood farce that last month scored its first and only victory by beating the University of Notre Dame in a legal hassle over whether it damages that school’s good name (TIME, Dec. 18). It remains a brash and dreary jape, climaxed by a sequence in which Notre Dame’s football squad flies off to a mythical Middle Eastern sheikdom to cavort with harem houris, then takes the field against an Arab eleven coached by a wandering Jewish U-2 pilot.

The plot collapses around Shirley MacLaine, cast as a girl reporter who infiltrates the seraglio of King Fawz (Peter Ustinov) looking for a lewd scoop and discovers the missing Goldfarb (Richard Crenna) instead. One night, summoned to Fawz for fondling, Shirley rubs down with garlic, dons a fright wig, blacks out her teeth, stuffs upholstery under her skirts and bounces onto the sheik’s bed screeching: “Come on, honey, ain’t you gonna sing me a dirty song?” He doesn’t, but if he did, it would be one of the movie’s lesser offenses against taste.

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