Edelvice

By T. E. Kalem

In the olden days, after the end of World War II, there dwelt in the Bavarian Alps a countess of extreme pique and doleful countenance (Angela Lansbury). Or so the celluloid scribes of Something for Everyone inform us. Looming up in the mists was her former abode, a massive castle that would have excited the imagination of a Winston cigarette ad campaigner. The countess's present quarters were on the castle grounds in a palatial lean-to that the countess shared with her gay son and a daughter who had once been voted the Ugliest Duckling beyond the Valley of the Rhine.

As the countess jaunted about in her sole remaining Horch-Pullman, her feudal subjects tried to gladden her heart by tugging their forelocks and putting on displays of their simple country pastimes, such as munching sausages, guzzling beer and blowing flugelhorns. To no avail. The countess subliminally yearned for some wunder-myth of a man who would kiss the castle back to life--with money--so that she could re-enter it in grand style and give way to those mad, scandalous fantasies that constantly invaded her mind, such as gorging on imported strawberries.

In fables of this kind, such a chap invariably does show up. He is the evil witch, but a little makeup and a few courses at the 2-by-4 Acting Academy have converted him into an acceptably wooden snot of a boy (Michael York). He announces that he is a murderer and a pervert, thus letting the other characters know that they are under almost as deep a curse as the audience. He casts some pretty savage spells. Rubbing out two of the countess's loyal stalwarts, he becomes her majordomo. He entices the daughter of a pair of rich social climbers into his amorous clutches while simultaneously achieving equal intimacy with the countess's son. He then ingeniously proposes that his duo of lovers plight their troth to each other so that he may always be true, in his fashion, to both. The countess is delighted, for the bride's dowry will bring in enough gold to fill the castle moat. Something for everyone, even before the plot reaches ludicrous heights of sadistic mayhem.

As the Hollywood directorial debut of Harold Prince, this disastrous film represents a vertiginous descent from bravos to catcalls. Earlier this year, Director-Producer Prince won just acclaim for his scintillating musical, Company. Guessing at the aesthetic motivations behind Something for Everyone is a speculative pastime, but ever since his success with the musical, Cabaret, Prince has apparently been captivated by the notion that he is peculiarly endowed to interpret the nature of European decadence and its relationship to the rise of Nazi Germany. The same theme recently caused a bit more flesh to crawl in The Damned, possibly because the decadence was depicted with a certain sinister conviction. In Prince's film, decadence functions as a backdrop to a silly operetta.

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