An early and not very effective entry in that 1930's movie specialty-- the screwball comedy. Some necessary elements are present— ritzy wardrobes, sophisticated dialog, colorful characters. Then too, the plot's appropriate-- a farcical marriage-go-round where no one much cares who's married to whom.
At the same time, catch the sexy Vicky (Blondell) as she endlessly rolls and unrolls her hosiery, that is, when not fitting into backless evening wear or craving a little rough man-handling. In short, it's the kind of provocative material that soon brought down the heavy hand of Hollywood censorship. (Scope out the very last scene that I expect challenged even the loose conventions of the time.)
The women are well cast, including the eye-rolling Blondell, a dryly sensible Claire Dodd, and a sweetly seductive Joan Wheeler. The problem is with the two male leads. Now, I'm a big fan of Warren William who's unequalled in ruthless, authoritative parts, e.g. Employee's Entrance (1933), Skyscraper Souls (1932), which remain true period classics. The trouble is that the role here of the discombobulated husband Tony calls for the light comedy skills of a William Powell, for example; the aristocratic William does try hard, but lacks that particular flair. Also, the naturally comedic Horton is memorable in eccentric parts, but is unfortunately miscast here as a strait-laced, jealous husband.
At the same time, director Florey doesn't manage the kind of zany pacing that could have smoothed over some of the questionable parts. Too much of his deliberate tempo comes across like the stage play the material is adapted from. As a result, the movie has its moments—mainly the super coy Blondell and a provocative parade of 30's fashions—but is otherwise a titillating disappointment.
At the same time, catch the sexy Vicky (Blondell) as she endlessly rolls and unrolls her hosiery, that is, when not fitting into backless evening wear or craving a little rough man-handling. In short, it's the kind of provocative material that soon brought down the heavy hand of Hollywood censorship. (Scope out the very last scene that I expect challenged even the loose conventions of the time.)
The women are well cast, including the eye-rolling Blondell, a dryly sensible Claire Dodd, and a sweetly seductive Joan Wheeler. The problem is with the two male leads. Now, I'm a big fan of Warren William who's unequalled in ruthless, authoritative parts, e.g. Employee's Entrance (1933), Skyscraper Souls (1932), which remain true period classics. The trouble is that the role here of the discombobulated husband Tony calls for the light comedy skills of a William Powell, for example; the aristocratic William does try hard, but lacks that particular flair. Also, the naturally comedic Horton is memorable in eccentric parts, but is unfortunately miscast here as a strait-laced, jealous husband.
At the same time, director Florey doesn't manage the kind of zany pacing that could have smoothed over some of the questionable parts. Too much of his deliberate tempo comes across like the stage play the material is adapted from. As a result, the movie has its moments—mainly the super coy Blondell and a provocative parade of 30's fashions—but is otherwise a titillating disappointment.