"Gilda, are you decent?" "Me?" Rita Hayworth injects humor and ferocious humanity into a vision of corruption and cynicism among expatriates in Argentina at the end of the war. All the strapless gowns, bare-midriff ensembles, and glow-in-the-dark jackets-designed by Jean Louis, Paris-born couturier who was Columbia's head designer-mean about as much to Gilda as do the men they attract. You feel she would just as soon take it all off, and that in the end is what she does in The Dress, a tight black satin number slit up to the thigh. Her sultry, punishing, striptease rendition of "Put the Blame on Mame" says it all for the world of fashion and film noir, where no one gets anything-even love-for nothing. If anyone got something from Gilda it was America's glovemakers, this accessory now being the epitome of provocative sensuality. (JB)