Paris Blues (Martin Ritt, 1961). Paul Newman and Sidney Poitier are jazzmen in Paris, Joanne Woodward and Diahann Carroll tourists on a two-week visit. The promising set-up has a great cellar jazz club, location shooting, and a pleasant backlot-Paris set. The women just want the fellas to settle down and forget about that music-making, which makes the movie really, really not interesting after a while. Louis Armstrong comes in and does a number. The score is by Duke Ellington, which (no knock against the music itself) seems wrong for the time and place. The whole thing exists in an uncomfortable zone between Round Midnight and Three Coins in the Fountain.
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