Karl Anton was born in Prague and made the majority of his films in German and for all I know they were quite distinguished but you can't prove it from this effort; I'm guessing it was a creaky operetta when it was written for the stage and by the time it got to the screen it was seriously arthritic; on the other hand there are three reasons to see it: Arletty! Arletty! Arletty!, three and a half if you include Jean Boyer, who was associated with Arletty on five of her early films including La Chaleur du sein and Bolero. For an operetta the singing is pretty ho-hum but I suppose we have to remember that this was Depression fodder intended to provide escapism for the masses but it's difficult not to compare it with similar output from Hollywood around the same time so that compared with, for example, 42nd Street this one is a bad nowhere. For reasons best known to the producers Arletty at one point takes a bath in the fountain of Place Concorde: no, not really, it just seems that way from the number of people who keep turning up, possibly thinking they're extras in a Marx Brothers movie. See it for Arletty by all means but leave it at that.