JEAN-PAUL SARTRE'S cheerless thesis that the only thing wrong with the world is the people in it is rendered acutely plausible in the film of his one-act play, "No Exit," which came to the Sutton last night.

By the time the three doomed and bitter persons who constitute the articulate population of the play—one man and two vicious women, locked in a room in hell—have finished an hour and a half of snarling and verbally ripping one another to shreds, raking the coals of their spent lives and exposing their hot and hidden shames, the reasonably normal viewer is likely to feel he's in the hot place himself and be convinced that mankind is so rotten that, at least, he should give up writing plays.

Now, this may be precisely the reaction that Mr. Sartre wished and the film's director, Ted Danielewski, labored to stimulate. If so, they may have the satisfaction of knowing that this fairly faithful film has succeeded in infecting at least one viewer with incipient misanthropy.

But they should also know that the infection is not due solely to the persuasiveness of the play. It is due in some measure to the inertia and tediousness of the film.

Where Mr. Sartre's three-person discourse runs for less than an hour on the stage (which is long enough for anybody to have to listen to three actors talk), it is padded with more talk and business so that it runs a half-hour longer on the screen. Yet it reveals nothing more about the characters than is spewed out by them on the stage.

They are still three pretentious, poisonous persons who have failed in their lives on earth and are obviously doomed to endless failure with one another in this closed and barren room. The man is a revolutionary journalist who tries to deceive himself with the illusion he died a hero, when the fact is he was shot in cowardice. One of the women is a selfish social climber who has lovelessly married an older man, murdered her an older man, murdered her a lover to suicide. And the other woman is a ferocious cynic and an acknowledged lesbian who has taken her own life in sheer frustration and vicious contempt for mankind.

Locked in this sterile chamber, they are their own torturers. And the instrument of their torture is their endless self-lacerating talk. Insofar as their slashing conversation does lead the listener on into a maze of psychological involvements and a state of intellectual suspense, there is a certain cerebral interest—even excitement—in the film. It does trace an intellectual mystery to a chilly intellectual expose.

But the whole thing is so antiseptic and is directed so stagily by Mr. Danielewski that it is visually monotonous on the screen. And the acting of Viveca Lindfors, Rita Gam and Morgan Sterne is necessarily so aggressive and yet so bloodless and emotionally withdrawn that the actors could as well be lying on couches, shouting at one another from there, for all the sense of personal conflict and menace that comes from them.

Furthermore, in his screenplay, George Tabori has done a cinematically natural thing that actually dissipates a value—a very strong value—in the play. He has inserted pantomimed flashbacks of experiences the characters verbally describe, so that frequently the viewer is taken outside the barren room. While this does give a little visual movement and glints of melodrama to the film, it relieves the horrible sense of inescapable confinement that is the most shattering effect of the play.

But, at least, this proves that "No Exit" is inappropriate material for a full-length.

NO EXIT, screenplay by George Tabori from the original play by Jean-Paul Sartre; directed by Tad Danielewski; produced by Fernando Ayala and Hector Olivera; James Zea associate producer. A Zenith International Film Release. At the Sutton Theater, 57th Street and Third Avenue. Running time: 91 minutes.
Ines . . . . . Viveca Lindfors
Estelle . . . . . Rita Gam
Garcin . . . . . Morgan Sterne
Camarero . . . . . Ben Piazza
Florence . . . . . Susana Mayo
Gomez . . . . . Orlando Sacha
Capitan . . . . . Manuel Roson
Carmencita . . . . . Mirtha Miller
Robert . . . . . Miguel A. Irarte
Shirley . . . . . Elsa Dorian
Albert . . . . . Mario Horna
Roger Delaney 3d . . . . . Carlos Brown

STRIKING Germanic direction by Robert Siodmak compensates for a weak script in "Escape from East Berlin," a topical melodrama that opened yesterday at neighborhood theaters.

With Don Murray as a girl-chasing German youth who abandons his self-indulgent habits to help his family and a group of friends escape from the Communist-controlled city, the new film follows a direct suspense format. It promptly establishes the situation motivating the escape, spends most of the footage on the preparations, and manufactures a perfunctory chase to give a little impact to the climax.

The formula is predictable, the characters stereotyped, and the awkwardly written dialogue relegates the drama to a routine level. Fortunately, the director, an experienced craftsman remembered for such distinctive Hollywood films as "The Spiral Staircase," "The Killers" and "Phantom Lady," charges the proceedings with a vivid visual style.

Not only are the Berlin locales effectively realistic, but the interior scenes, as the family digs a tunnel under the Berlin wall, also are handled with a good deal of calculated skill. Mr. Siodmak has a way of imbuing a physical action with meaningful symbolic overtones that give his little thriller a depth beyond its rather shallow surface.

Mr. Murray, sporting a slight German accent, is competent, although not at his best in an obviously contrived role. The German supporting cast, including Christine Kaufmann, Werner Klemperer, Ingrid Van Bergen and Karl Schell, has been carefully chosen, and emerges with commendable effect.

Also on the bill is "Swordsman of Siena," a dubbed Italian spectacle slightly mor opulent than the usual run. Etienne Perier, who directed for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, has attempted to recreate the comic mood of "Scaramouche" and "The Prisoner of Zenda" with the same tongue-in-cheek star, Stewart Granger, but the result is flatly conventional.

Among the highborn damsels with whom the graytempled actor briefly dallies are the buxom Sylva Koscina and, again,"Berlin's" Christine Kaufmann—this time ornamentally costumed and scrubbed, and speaking in a disturbingly softer and unaccented voice. To viewers who have just witnessed her haggard escape from East Berlin, the effect is more than a little disconcerting.

New Double Bill ESCAPE FROM EAST BERLIN; screenplay by Gabrielle Upton, Peter Berneis and Millard Lampell; directed by Robert Siodmak; produced by Walter Wood; distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Running time: 94 minutes.
Kurt Schroeder . . . . . Don Murray
Erika Jurgens . . . . . Christine Kaufmann
Brunner . . . . . Werner Klemperer
Ingeborg Schroeder . . . . . Ingrid Van Bergen
Major Eckhardt . . . . . Karl Schell
Heidi . . . . . Kai Fischer
Uncle Albricht . . . . . Bruno Fritz
Klussendorf . . . . . Alfred Balthoff
Mother Schroeder . . . . . Edith Schultze-Westrum
Marga Wegener . . . . . Waltraut Runze-Waitzmann
and
SWORDSMAN OF SIENA; screenplay by Fay and Michael Kanin and Alec Coppel; directed by Etienne Perier; produced by Jacques Bar; distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Running time: 96 minutes. Both films at neighborhood theaters.
Thomas Stanwood . . . . . Stewart Granger
Orietta Arconti . . . . . Sylva Koscina
Serenella Arconti . . . . . Christine Kaufmann
Don Carlos . . . . . Ricardo Garrone
Father Giacomo . . . . . Tullio Carminati

MOVING (for the second time) into the animated feature domain created by Walt Disney, U.P.A. Productions has contributed a pretty, pleasant, seasonal package for family audiences called "Gay Purr-ee." The contents of this Warner release, which opened yesterday in neighborhood theaters, should make anybody's mouth water, including Mr. Disney's.

Consider: Judy Garland, no less, and Robert Goulet providing the singing and speaking voice tracks for the leading cartoon roles in a cute fable about a little country cat who goes to Paris. Add a battery of technical wizards who create a fetching color canvas that blends some truly lovely pastels with classical works by art masters. Add also eight new tunes by Harold Arlen, including one knockout. But the picture, hélas, is not.

At the risk of sounding like Scrooge, one U.P.A. fan feels that the film has everything but real wit. And what an opportunity, especially with Mewsette, the dainty little fugitive from Provence (Miss Garland), naïvely involved with some purring city slickers before being rescued by hel stalwart country swain, a champion mouser named Juane-Tom (Mr. Goulet).

Now, with all due respect to the film's good-natured tone and diverting backgrounds, the first half is rather studied and even familiar, as directed by Abe Levitow and written by Dorothy and Chuck Jones. In contrast to the pictorial wizardry—rearranged Von Gogh landscapes and a tilted, spangled City of Light flavored with Toulouse-Lautrec, Modigliani, Matisse, Cézanne and others—the characters almost pale by contrast.

Mewsette, a nice enough little lady cat, is most interesting when Miss Garland is warbling — superbly — such ballads as "Roses Red" and "Take My Hand, Paree." The same goes for the villainous Meowrice (Paul Frees), a fairly standard menace with a fine, jazzy theme song, "The Money Cat." Furthermore, the snug, simple plot is needlessly stretched. Even with little Mewsette pining away in Paris, her would-be rescuer and his sassy, furry sidekick Robespierre (Red Buttons) are way off in Alaska.

The nearest thing to spice is the heroine's jowly, pink "chaperone," a shady lady named Mme. Rubens-Chatte (drolly spoken by Hermione Gingold). Even with the songs and the brilliantly stylized backgrounds, one can't help wondering what a Disney crew would have concocted in earthy slyness and spontaneity.

In the final reel, though, things hit high gear in an old-fashioned chase scramble, against a superbly imaginative panorama of Paris, while the cats prowl the quays and the Notre Dame gargoyles toward a final, funny free-for-all. This portion also contains the film's visual highlight, as Miss Garland sings one of Mr. Arlen's great blues numbers written for the screen, "Paris Is a Lonely Town."

So who needs eggnog for Christmas? "Gay Purr-ee" is a nice, soft drink for all the family.

'Gay Purr--ee' Cartoon GAY PURR--EE, screenplay by Dorothy and Chuck Jones; directed by Abe Levitow; produced by Henry G. Saperstein for U. P. A. Productions; presented by Warner Brothers. At neighborhood theaters. Running time: 86 minutes.
Voice of:
Mewsette . . . . . Judy Garland
Juane-Tom . . . . . Robert Goulet
Meowrice . . . . . Paul Frees
Robespierre . . . . . Red Buttons
Mme. Ruben-Chatte . . . . . Hermione Gingold