Summary
A single midnight-blue tuxedo, stitched for one torso yet coveted by two jittery swains, becomes the battlefield on which vanity, class panic, and sheer kinetic absurdity collide. Jack Jevne’s screenplay—part fugue, part pratfall symphony—unfurls inside a Deco mansion where champagne flutes glint like guillotines and every doorway frames fresh ignominy. Billy Bletcher’s pint-sized dandy and Bobby Vernon’s gangly striver pass the suit between them like relay batons dipped in quicksilver; each hand-off shreds the garment further until the trousers, once crisp as a banknote, hang in tatters that flap like surrender flags. Their subsequent corridor ballet—ducking under serving trays, somersaulting past dowagers, commandeering the butler’s own pin-striped shins—turns privacy into performance and shame into propulsion. By the time the duo skedaddle into the pre-dawn fog, the party never suspects it has witnessed not merely a slapstick duel but a miniature revolt against social dress codes that demand souls be cut to fit the cloth.
Synopsis
Two young men rent one dress suit and both try to appear at the same party in the same suit. They fight over the trousers until they are destroyed, then flit from room to room, to avoid coming in contact with the guests of the party, and finally escape in a pair of trousers taken from the butler.
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