The Perils of Pauline is definitely one of those all or nothing films. Either a viewer tunes in to its camp wavelength and finds it a hoot, or he doesn't and finds the whole thing a silly waste of time. It's probably that among modern audiences, even those on the right wavelength may not be as enamored of Pauline as camp lovers in 1967 were. In the decades since its original release, there have been countless other films which trod similar territory. But even so, Pauline retains enough outrageous goofiness to please its fan base. For once, the limited acting skills of Pat Boone are an asset. His white bread blandness is exactly what the role of George calls for, as is the simpleness of female lead Pamela Austin. Taking up the acting slack with some delightfully hammy and wink-filled performances are the likes of gap-toothed Terry-Thomas, the aged but still wonderful Edward Everett Horton, the amiable Hamilton Camp and the always appreciated Doris Packer. The script is nonsense, as its intended to be, and the direction is obvious -- again, as intended -- with undercranked camera effects and plenty of slapstick.