La Plume de Ma Tante (written by Robert Dhery; music by Gerard Calvi) speaks a kind of compound-fractured English. But in all other respects it is as engagingly French as it is abundantly funny.
The question of speech scarcely matters anyhow, for La Plume generally favors the international language of leers and leaps, pratfalls and double takes, cupboards and manholes. In a season deafened with the rat-tat-tat of drearily mechanical gag shows, this alone would call for modest thanks. But, in La Plume's case, the quality of merci is not strained; the show shines by more than contrast. If a fair number...
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