One of those bubbly late-'50s romantic comedies that thinks it's cleverer than it is and seems terribly pleased with itself. The actors grit their teeth and play the familiar froth as if it were Moliere, and you admire them for trying. Gable is Gable, unforced and likeable but not a natural comedian, and Palmer gives her bitchy character a warmth not found in the dialogue. The movie's main asset is the handsome black-and-white photography of midtown Manhattan (I'd like to have seen more marquees), and the nostalgic ambience of that long-ago era when theater was actually a topic of discourse among the general population.
Review of But Not for Me
