Cast of characters

Basil Rathbone in a role that fits him well spends a pleasant and graceful evening in this ephemeral comedy from Paris which is slated to open at the Fulton Theatre, New York, Dec. 1. Perfectly cast, well directed by Lionel Atwill and staged in two well designed and well executed sets, the play gets more than its strength as comedy deserves.

Rathbone's gallant manner as a young Parisian scapegrace, his love making and the carefully handled romantic atmosphere of the play itself will draw the femmes. On this basis, "A Kiss of Importance" should enjoy a moderately profitable Broadway run.

The excellent staging and the striking performance of the entire cast, then to conceal the weaknesses in the story. These defects are confined principally to the first act, which is almost entirely given over to building up character and laboriously paving the way for what turns out to be a simple plot. Like most comedies of this type, it frequently slips into farce. At other times, particularly in the love scenes, it assumes the delicately romantic flavor of Molnar's "The Swan," in which Rathbone also starred.

The humor in the second act is one of the play's strongest points. A chaise longue scene in which St. Obin rehearses his love scene with Madame, gives both Rathbone and Miss Andrews an opportunity for a bit of fine comedy portrayal.

The dragging effect in the first act and in spots throughout the play is due to the fact that much of the action is not motivated enough, even for Parisian comedy. Crackling lines and clever business at the proper moments, however, almost compensate for this.

Curtin.

—Variety, November 19, 1930

Much too long in developing the story. Nothing very amusing until the last act, where the laugh lines are concentrated, which is hardly enough to carry this play from the French. The native presentation may have been more diverting. It doubtless was broader, and had to be toned down for use here.

First act is in the office of Dupin, a Parisian money lender, to whom Christian Saint Obin is indebted. He is the second son of a baron, with a way about him and little matter of owing mean little. His principal aim in life is horses. Senator Courcel, an old friend, calls on Dupin with a commission. He has fallen in love with Isabelle, young wife of the elderly fellow-senator, De Corquefon. But he cannot be involved in a scandal. He seeks a young man to make imitation love to Isabelle, who would then be divorced and they would be able to wed. The sporty Saint Obin accepts the job.

Saint Obin has been a month at the Corquefon chateau without making advances to Isabelle, rather going in for exercise and developing an old mare whom he thinks will be a champion steeplechaser. Prodded to start something, the young wife succumbs to his caresses. Then starts a real love affair. the old senator pretends not to see what is going on, but he discovers his confrere, Courcel, trying to kiss his wife.

Last act has the old man and the young lover talking things over, and the laughs come in a bunch. Looks like an awkward situation, but when Isabelle explains her new lover was merely acting the part for Courcel, everything is all right. What is more, the old boy consents to the young wife having an apartment in Paris.

"A Kiss of Importance" is one of several plays presented by Arch Selwyn with picture names in the cast. Basil Rathbone is starred, but he was featured on Broadway before he went to Hollywood. Rathbone as the dilettante is lively at times and, of course, attractive from the feminine viewpoint. Montagu Love, a film villain, plays the scheming and unsuccessful younger senator. It's not an attractive part; neither is his chin make-up.

Ann Andrews is Isabelle. She went along well enough until towards the latter part of act two, when she suddenly developed something akin to a French accent. She had not used it previously, and it was a surprise. Appears to be a distinct error in direction. The English veteran, Frederick Kerr, is the old senator. It was Kerr's interchange with Rathbone which lightened the last act. Johnnie Brewer is amusing as an excitable clerk to Dupin.

This is one of those French plays supposed to be naughty. that may be so in a way, but it doesn't provide the fun expected of it.

—Variety, December 3, 1930

Mr. Lionel Atwill, in directing "A Kiss of Importance," [seems to have] imparted to Basil Rathbone the invaluable manner of talking as if her were just finishing the last few nubbins of a mouthful of almonds. Of course, during the second act of "A Kiss of Importance," Mr Rathbone is called upon really to eat a piece of candy which might very well have had a nut concealed in it, but no one nut could last as long as the one Mr. Rathbone seems to be having trouble with, and, as this has long been a trait of Mr. Atwill's, especially while playing comedy scenes, the only conclusion is that it is his own delicate contribution to Mr. Rathbone's technique. ...

Aside from his work on the last vestiges of the almond, Mr. Rathbone bounds and shadow-boxes a great deal more than is his wont, and even so excellent an actress as Miss Ann Andrews surprises her admirers by talking, obviously for comedy purposes alone, a strange mixture of dialects, reminiscent now of Irene Bordoni, now of Fannie Brice. The base of the impersonation is French (quite unnecessarily, as everyone else in the play is supposed to be French as well) but every once in a while the hand is clapped to the side of the head and a very distinct Jewish "Oi!" is uttered, serving only to confuse those in the audience who still care about following the action. ... "A Kiss of Importance" is just another French thing about cuckoldry, which gives none of those concerned much of a chance to do anything but act as badly as they can.

—The New Yorker, December 13, 1930

A Kiss of Importance

Basil Rathbone is the latest emigré from the talkies to the livies. He is the very Vere de Vere of matinee lovers—just swarming with sex giddap!

In "A Kiss of Importance," a French—a very French—farce, Mr. Rathbone takes the part of a professional co-respondent. But—maybe you've heard of this plot before, Linda—the co. really falls in love (amour) with the lady, and all is hunkydory as the curtain goes down on a triangle that even Walter Winchell would have guessed blindfolded.

Mr. Rathbone was at his snappy best. Those losing their souls in Original Sin with him were Montagu Love, Ann Andrews, and Frederick Kerr.

—Screenland, March 1931