Combine Clara Bow, a sour moral, and "it" and you can only trust to luck Frank Strayer trusted--so this week finds "Rough House Rosie" sending thrills into the cerebral mud of local fandom at the Metropolitan.

From the point of view of the historian the picture has interest. More old gags stroll into this picture than enter the Repertory in three years. Nunally Johnson's satiric and interesting book has died in the moist hands of Hollywood tradition.

From the point of view of the college undergraduate who leaves Cambridge for comic relief, the latest effort of sex filled Clara is blotto. The only relief is in seeing the bell hop-ushers dash fragrant gummers into their idea of ducal grandeur.

One could present in a few words the whole story. But why be obvious? She gets her man. And she proves that chasing debutantes may be good sport, but the street huskie is the girl what rings true--if she rings at all. W. C. Fields is playing at the Metropolitan next week.