Oliver praises the production of The Foreigner, yet questions the plot's overall implausibility.

James Agee classified certain movies as "intelligent trash," a category that he neither respected nor condemned, but recognized as having its uses. At a posh London party, Sarah Bernhardt was so overcome by all that staid propriety that she whispered to a French acquaintance, "Allons nous encanailler!" ( "Let's go make pigs of ourselves!") In the theater, too, there is room for some slumming, which, I imagine, is what Larry Shue's The Foreigner means to provide. After seeing this farce by the actor-playwright, I suspect that he is quite capable of writing intelligent trash for well-bred pigs to wallow in, as the play does, at times, rise to this level. Mostly, however; it is content to be unintelligent trash.

The Foreigner brings an unlikely pair of Englishmen—"Froggy" LeSueur, a boisterous corporal and demolition expert...