It starts out as a bubbly comedy and quickly sinks into "women's picture" banality, with Loy inexplicably pining over stolid Walter P., who is marrying Rosalind Russell (her la-di-dah accent is intolerable), while Franchot Tone is making drunken quips on the sidelines. The tone is all over the place, now breezy, now soap-opera, and poor Myrna Loy looks miserable throughout -- she must have known how negligible this script is. The characters' alliances shift scene by scene, without explanation, and the happy-ending fadeout wouldn't convince a five-year-old. The four leads are pros and almost always interesting to watch, but this one is so MGM-fake and dramatically underpowered that it plays like a prehistoric episode of "One Life to Live."
