Here’s Cary Grant in yet another screwball comedy that’s reminiscent of “Brining Up, Baby.” Once again, the tale is occurring on the cusp of a wedding, though Rosalind Russell is the bride-to-be. She’s on the verge of departing on her honeymoon when she’s roped into an execution/jailbreak story by her old editor and flame, (Grant). Grant stirs the embers of her newshound ways and ropes her back into his life under the guise that he needs her to assist him with the scoop of the century.
The series of shenanigans that are tied together loosely with a plot are entertaining enough, though they start to feel flat about halfway in. I feel as if at one stage, the writer thought, “Damn it, this story’s getting too absurd for its own good” and so he roped back in some of the more rational characters to tone down the antics, leaving the film feeling a little uneven at points. However, Cary Grant still delivers his trademark, befuddled charm like only Hugh Grant desperately wishes he could.
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