There seems to be little consensus on this movie; most people love it or hate it. I can see why. The movie has its golden gleaming moments, and then it has its moments that fall flat with a hollow thud. Unfortunately, the ending of the movie is the hollowest thud of all, and smacks almost of soap opera.
Also, Lombard hardly seems herself in this movie; she plays the foil to Montgomery's gleefully devilish protagonist, and only occasionally does she steal a scene. Hitchcock (or perhaps the screenplay) seems almost determined to keep her locked down. A pity.
Still, Montgomery's leering eyes and wicked yet boyish half-smile are by themselves reason enough to watch this movie. The whole issue of forbidden, illicit sex is handled beautifully, because, after all, the two are man and wife in everything but legal technicality. It seems odd that Lombard's character reacts with such savage anger about the whole thing. Considering the way she plays fast and loose with the affections of her husband's partner, even though she can't deny that she has been a common law wife of three years standing, one wouldn't expect such a prudish attitude from her. More likely, she would have joined her erstwhile husband in enjoying the hint of illicit passion. But it's best, in movies like this, not to examine the logic behind the story too closely.
Although Montgomery is the heart of the movie, nevertheless, perhaps the best scene in the movie is when the strait-laced genteel Gene Raymond proceeds from tipsy directly to dead-drunk and delivers possibly the funniest (because the most realistic) rendering of inebriation ever filmed. There's a point where he plants a foot on a step in front of him, a very low step, and one would think that in so doing he had just climbed Mount Everest. Priceless.
Others have noted, and I agree, that outside of Lombard, Montgomery and Raymond, the other characters are mere cardboard props and simply not funny. One can see that Hitchcock himself recognized this. When Raymond is closeted with his concerned parents in the bathroom at his office, the director is reduced to using gurgling plumbing sounds to punctuate the dialog--and for no apparent reason other than for some kind of comedic effect, because the dialog so clearly lacks any. When plumbing steals the show, you know you're in trouble.
One might see, in the trip to the rustic resort, an echo of Shakespeare's comedies, in which the scene always changed from the banal to the fantastical to underscore or even effect the transformation of the characters. But that doesn't happen here. Everyone continues to act the way they did before. That's not surprising, for in Shakespeare, the change in scene always happened at the beginning, not the end. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, and the personalities of the characters are engraved in marble by this point.
These scenes mark the final transition of a movie that was already verging on stage-bound into more or less just another play on celluloid. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it does little to revive the movie's already fainting comedic momentum. It attempts the usual farce, door-slamming, rushing to-and-fro, characters affecting dramatic poses, but it doesn't really work, and that devilish grin of Montgomery's seems long, long in the past. He becomes a cipher for the last part of the movie, Raymond's character was a cipher to begin with, and that leaves only Lombard, whose character was hemmed into a cage of shrewishness by the script (or the director) from the very beginning. The ending, therefore, is arbitrary and unsatisfying, and worst of all, not the least bit funny. The movie turns too late to pratfall comedy, and the image of Lombard tangled in skis simply doesn't work. She's been far too efficient and capable until now to be believable as the hapless, helpless, love-lorn buffoon.
Nevertheless, the movie was well worth watching. I'll never forget those gleaming eyes and that almost forward-leaning stride of Montgomery, as if he just couldn't wait to barrel into the next scene. One is almost tempted to forgive him his chumminess with the House Un-American Activities Committee.
Almost.
Also, Lombard hardly seems herself in this movie; she plays the foil to Montgomery's gleefully devilish protagonist, and only occasionally does she steal a scene. Hitchcock (or perhaps the screenplay) seems almost determined to keep her locked down. A pity.
Still, Montgomery's leering eyes and wicked yet boyish half-smile are by themselves reason enough to watch this movie. The whole issue of forbidden, illicit sex is handled beautifully, because, after all, the two are man and wife in everything but legal technicality. It seems odd that Lombard's character reacts with such savage anger about the whole thing. Considering the way she plays fast and loose with the affections of her husband's partner, even though she can't deny that she has been a common law wife of three years standing, one wouldn't expect such a prudish attitude from her. More likely, she would have joined her erstwhile husband in enjoying the hint of illicit passion. But it's best, in movies like this, not to examine the logic behind the story too closely.
Although Montgomery is the heart of the movie, nevertheless, perhaps the best scene in the movie is when the strait-laced genteel Gene Raymond proceeds from tipsy directly to dead-drunk and delivers possibly the funniest (because the most realistic) rendering of inebriation ever filmed. There's a point where he plants a foot on a step in front of him, a very low step, and one would think that in so doing he had just climbed Mount Everest. Priceless.
Others have noted, and I agree, that outside of Lombard, Montgomery and Raymond, the other characters are mere cardboard props and simply not funny. One can see that Hitchcock himself recognized this. When Raymond is closeted with his concerned parents in the bathroom at his office, the director is reduced to using gurgling plumbing sounds to punctuate the dialog--and for no apparent reason other than for some kind of comedic effect, because the dialog so clearly lacks any. When plumbing steals the show, you know you're in trouble.
One might see, in the trip to the rustic resort, an echo of Shakespeare's comedies, in which the scene always changed from the banal to the fantastical to underscore or even effect the transformation of the characters. But that doesn't happen here. Everyone continues to act the way they did before. That's not surprising, for in Shakespeare, the change in scene always happened at the beginning, not the end. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, and the personalities of the characters are engraved in marble by this point.
These scenes mark the final transition of a movie that was already verging on stage-bound into more or less just another play on celluloid. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it does little to revive the movie's already fainting comedic momentum. It attempts the usual farce, door-slamming, rushing to-and-fro, characters affecting dramatic poses, but it doesn't really work, and that devilish grin of Montgomery's seems long, long in the past. He becomes a cipher for the last part of the movie, Raymond's character was a cipher to begin with, and that leaves only Lombard, whose character was hemmed into a cage of shrewishness by the script (or the director) from the very beginning. The ending, therefore, is arbitrary and unsatisfying, and worst of all, not the least bit funny. The movie turns too late to pratfall comedy, and the image of Lombard tangled in skis simply doesn't work. She's been far too efficient and capable until now to be believable as the hapless, helpless, love-lorn buffoon.
Nevertheless, the movie was well worth watching. I'll never forget those gleaming eyes and that almost forward-leaning stride of Montgomery, as if he just couldn't wait to barrel into the next scene. One is almost tempted to forgive him his chumminess with the House Un-American Activities Committee.
Almost.