Strange Things Are Done 'Neath the Midnight Sun

To Bed or Not to Bed is a sly Italian comedy that says the Swedish women are as frigid as the Swedish climate. The hero (Alberto Sordi) is an Italian fur merchant who goes to Sweden to pick up some mink--and any other skin he can lay his hands on.

First night in Stockholm he takes a cute little trick (Barbro Wastenson) to his hotel suite, plies her with Vat 69, shows her his war wound, edges toward the bedroom--as she eases out the door.

Next day he meets a rich and beautiful woman who assures him her husband won't mind if she does--but then she doesn't. Next day he is seduced into a sauna by a luscious young thing who romps with him stark naked in the snow--and calmly walks off to meet her boy friend. The only time he finds a willing woman, she turns out to be 13. The joke is pretty obvious, and To Bed could easily have been just one more priapicture. But Actor Sordi and Director Gian Luigi Polidoro tell their risky story with sophistication and restraint. They suggest much more than they say. They suggest, for example, one good reason why so many Swedish men like to take their vacations in Italy.

The Doll is a Swedish picture about a young man who finds Swedish women so forbidding that he falls in love with a plaster manikin. One night he steals the manikin, takes it home to his crummy garret, puts it gently in his bed. "Are you comfortable?" he tenderly inquires as he tucks the covers in. Then he goes respectfully to sleep in a chair. Next day he brings flowers for the object of his affections, kisses it passionately on the lips, begs it to come alive and be his lady love.

So it does--or anyway he thinks it does. Before his eyes it becomes a living woman who speaks to him, caresses him, says she loves him and thinks he's wonderful. His face brightens, his mind darkens. Insanely in love, he stays home from work because he cannot bear to be apart from his imaginary inamorata. But the idyl is soon over. The man in the next room comes snooping and discovers what the hero is keeping in his bed. Mockingly he strokes the lifeless body. In a rage the hero shoots him and then smashes the manikin to bits. But one of the bits is her head, and there it sits in the middle of the floor, looking up at him and smiling, smiling.

Director Arne Mattsson (One Summer of Happiness) has fashioned The Doll with skill and care. He clearly expects it to be seen as an accurate case history and a serious work of art. But the sight of the man and the manikin together is too absurd to be taken seriously. Maybe Sex in Sweden should never have been taken seriously anyway.

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