Goldfarb v. The People

John Goldfarb, Please Come Home is the puny Hollywood farce that last month scored its first and only victory by beating the University of Notre Dame in a legal hassle over whether it damages that school's good name (TIME, Dec. 18). It remains a brash and dreary jape, climaxed by a sequence in which Notre Dame's football squad flies off to a mythical Middle Eastern sheikdom to cavort with harem houris, then takes the field against an Arab eleven coached by a wandering Jewish U-2 pilot.

The plot collapses around Shirley MacLaine, cast as a girl reporter who infiltrates the seraglio of King Fawz (Peter Ustinov) looking for a lewd scoop and discovers the missing Goldfarb (Richard Crenna) instead. One night, summoned to Fawz for fondling, Shirley rubs down with garlic, dons a fright wig, blacks out her teeth, stuffs upholstery under her skirts and bounces onto the sheik's bed screeching: "Come on, honey, ain't you gonna sing me a dirty song?" He doesn't, but if he did, it would be one of the movie's lesser offenses against taste.

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