It's about an embezzler, Peter Ustinov, who infiltrates a British company, Texa-Conn or something like that, posing as a computer whiz and security expert. He secretly learns to hack into the computer, while gathering the admiration of his boss, Karl Malden, the enmity of his office rival, Bob Newhart, and the love of his inept secretary, Maggie Smith.
Some of the business details were a little murky to these non-business-oriented eyes but they're believable enough and I got the general idea. Ustinov, the peculating Peter, establishes phony businesses in Paris, Rome, and Stuttgart, and uses Texa-Conn's computer to send all kinds of money to these ersatz establishments. The overseas companies, of course, consist of nothing more than himself, Ustinov, and the addresses are an abandoned artist's loft in Paris, a barber shop in Rome, and a bakery in Germany. He simply visits them to collect the checks he's sent himself.
I didn't think I'd like it for the first few minutes because it seemed rather on the slow side. I was expecting something with a faster tempo and more outrage, along the lines of "The Pink Panther" or "The Lavender Hill Gang." But this film insinuates itself into your good graces as you come to appreciate the understated humor in the plot, the characterizations, and the dialog.
Probably it would be a bad idea to give away too many of the relatively subtle gags but here are some examples of the more noticeable.
Ustinov to Secretary Smith: "Let me have the assets of these companies." Smith: "Assets? What are they?" Ustinov: "Little female donkeys." Now, nothing is made of this little exchange. There's a quick cut and no delay for any laughter, which is appropriate because one's reaction is more likely to be a smile than a laugh.
Ustinov searches out that crummy loft in Paris. It's covered with cobwebs. Bricks are strewn around and a couple of the former occupant's paintings have been left behind. The landlord doesn't speak English and Ustinov knows no French. Ustinov points to a child-like painting of a nude woman and chuckles, "Ah. A fam fye-tal, eh?" Landlord chuckles too, replies: "Vous le prenez pour une anee?" Ustinov: "Oh -- ANNIE, so that's her name!" Landlord: "Oui?" Ustinov: "Entente cordiale!" (Mes amis, if I got those genders wrong, je m'excuse.) Bob Newhart as Willard Gnatpole (!) has the hots for Maggie Smith and is supposed to be driving her home but tells her he's taking "the scenic route." There is an immediate sequence of suggestive traffic signs. "Caution." "Lay-By." "Give Way." "Yield." Ending with the imperious "STOP/CHILDREN." There's another montage when Ustinov's scheme is about to be discovered by the board of directors -- blurry rooftops, police cars, a farewell embrace from Maggie, ending with a sign: PRISON, Wormwood Scrubs.
Well, maybe one more. I still can't get over Malden as the boss, declaring decisively, "I never agonize over decisions," then gulping a handful of pills and washing them down with a glass of water.
The acting is unarguably fine. It's Bob Newhart's best role, for instance. Not that he had that many, and not that his range wasn't limited, but he's perfect in this part. The musical score by Laurie Johnson obviously had a good deal of effort put into it. She seems to have written a brief concerto for flute. Ustinov's passion is music and his overseas establishments are headed by false names like Claude Debussy and Giacconino Rossini. Stuttgart's phony president is somebody named Schmidt, and he's an anomalous clinker. Maggi Smith is pretty, sexy, bourgeois, and turns out to be not nearly so dumb as she seems.
Delightful, in its own quiet way, but don't expect comic fireworks.

A friend once asked me to read a screenplay of his that had been optioned by a movie studio. To say it was one of the most inept and insipid scripts I'd ever read would be a bold understatement. Yet I never told him this. Why? Because in a world where films like "While She Was Out" can be green-lighted and attract an Oscar- winning star like Kim Basinger, a screenplay lacking in character, content and common sense is no guarantee that it won't sell.
As so many other reviewers have pointed out, "While She Was Out" is a dreadfully under-written Woman-in-Peril film that has abused housewife Basinger hunted by four unlikely hoods on Christmas Eve. Every gripe is legitimate, from the weak dialog and bad acting to the jaw-dropping lapses of logic, but Basinger is such an interesting actress and the premise is not without promise. Here are a couple of things that struck me:
1) I don't care how much we are supposed to think her husband is a jerk, the house IS a mess with toys. Since when did it become child abuse to make kids pick up after themselves?
2) Racially diverse gangs are rare everywhere except Hollywood, where they are usually the only racially balanced groups on screen.
3) Sure the film is stupid. But so are the countless "thrillers" I've sat through where the women are portrayed as wailing, helpless victims of male sadism. Stupid or not, I found it refreshing to see a woman getting the best of her tormentors.
4) I LOVED the ending!
5) Though an earlier reviewer coined this phrase, I really DO think this film should be retitled "The Red Toolbox of Doom."