A satirical movie made in 1943 that gently chides the sobriety of the social morés of a bygone era is pretty much destined to become completely dated by 2009. Though the concept of what is risqué has certainly changed and this story feels toothless by today's standards, it remains watchable because of its wonderfully witty dialogue and lovely performances. Don Ameche plays Henry Van Cleve, a well-to-do New Yorker who, though he marries the girl of his dreams, continues to dog around ceaselessly up to the point where he ends up explaining himself to some kind of maitre d' to the ante room of Hell. Ameche's playboy (whose minor sin is to love women too much) remains sympathetic - unlike many other characters who appear destined for a fiery afterlife.I find Lubitsch's witty comedies of manners to be well crafted but ultimately weightless - real human emotion is either sparse or lacking. As well, I instinctively chafe at a little cast of characters for whom work is optional and money is no object. The beautifully composed colour (simply stunning Technicolor) is just another demonstration of its artificiality. I find I often walk away from these confections feeling amazed at the craftsmanship, yet underfed.
An unfortunate old biddy meets her end.
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