The premise, pretty much deducible from the title, features three unmarried male apartment-mates in Paris who have to baby-sit an illegitimate infant (one of theirs) for six months. This same general situation came out funnier, sweeter, touchinger, everythinger, when it was done with John Wayne in Three Godfathers. The situation here, after some initial adjustment to it, emerges very soon as unpromisingly repetitive and predictable. Easy and obvious solutions must be rejected arbitrarily just to keep it going, and at one juncture we go off on a long detour into a tenuous drug caper before we get back to the main thoroughfare of predictability and repetition. Cuteness is the single most insistent note sounded, or strained for, throughout: the cuteness of any baby whatsoever, of grown men who don't know what to do to care for one, and then of the same grown men once they have learned to. There is little differentiation between the three, who are all assumed to develop the same attachments at roughly the same speed (and, it goes without saying, with roughly the same cuteness). Each of the actors is an amenable buffoon, and in the process tramples all over any budding joke. For some inscrutable reason the whole thing, or most of it, has been bathed in a soft sepia light possibly more suitable to a misty reminiscence of the Dreyfus scandal or something. Roland Giraud, Michel Boujenah, André Dussollier; directed by Coline Serreau. (1985) — Duncan Shepherd