What a shame. After such a compelling first part, filled with danger and intrigue and laced with laughs, Richard Powell falls back on the tired, obvious farce that marks his "Hogan's Heroes" scripts overall for Part Two of "A Tiger Hunt in Paris," which exposes all of Powell's logical flaws and broad characterizations that can be overlooked in an absorbing narrative--but not in his recycled routines that make this second half of a two-part story such a disappointment.
Having teamed up with a mysterious, not entirely trustworthy White Russian, Marya (Nita Talbot), who has the ear--and a lot more besides--of Gestapo Colonel Backscheider (John Dehner), Colonel Hogan and Corporal LeBeau attempt to rescue Tiger (Arlene Martel), a top leader in the underground, from Backscheider's high-security jail in Paris before she is tortured into revealing damaging secrets--not least the existence of Hogan's covert intelligence operation being run from a German prisoner-of-war camp, Stalag 13.
Indeed, Hogan and LeBeau hitched a clandestine ride to Paris atop the staff car of Stalag 13 commandant Colonel Klink, in the French capital for a week of relaxing leave, only to have Hogan and LeBeau steal his car while he ultimately winds up in Backscheider's jail accused of being Tiger's accomplice.
If you think that strains credulity--after all, wouldn't someone back at Stalag 13 notice the senior POW officer missing for a week, particularly when Sergeant Kinchloe tells Hogan that "Captain Gruber," Stalag 13's pro tempore commandant, is, unlike Klink, actually competent?--wait until you see what Hogan and Marya have served up to get Tiger out of the Gestapo's clutches.
The strong performances that rescued Powell's conceits and failings in Part One have weakened in the second half. Talbot, simply brilliant in the first half, is still reliable, although in time Marya would descend into caricature even if the ambiguity remained. However, Dehner, his Backscheider backsliding into Nazi-stooge caricature, is just collecting the paycheck now while Martel, never given anything to do other than cower in a jail cell, exists only to, predictably, fall into Bob Crane's arms in gratitude. That's a Powell trademark, having every woman within range of Hogan throw herself at him, and he even devises a way to have Marya make out with him too.
Worst of all, though, is Henry Corden, an experienced, delightful character actor who gets to portray Heinrich Himmler, the head of the dreaded Gestapo and SS, as a slapstick fool, the ham that Hogan and Marya have served up to spring Tiger. Granted, his character is a comrade of Marya merely masquerading as Himmler, and Corden's practiced pratfalls can still elicit laughs, but they underscore Powell's reliance on silliness to disguise his subpar plotting.
That includes the "secret German fighter bases" that seemingly launched the entire premise, which don't even rise to the level of a MacGuffin because if the characters don't even care about them, then why should we? "A Tiger Hunt in Paris" begins with great promise but, like Klink, returns from Paris disillusioned and unfulfilled.