dir. Wesley Ruggles
writ. Mae West (story, screenplay & dialogue), Lowell Brentano (suggestions)
feat. Mae West, Cary Grant, Gregory Ratoff, Edward Arnold, Ralf Harolde
Mae West's character, Tira, may try to live by the motto, "take all you can get and give as little as possible," but thankfully West leans in the opposite direction, giving until the viewer risks bursting. I'll admit to never having had the pleasure before seeing this film, and my introduction to West leaves me feeling a little seedy. She is an otherworldly creature, unsettling more than seductive from this side of the screen, while overpowering any man who comes her way up there. She purrs her through one snide crack after another, a social creeper more than climber, never missing a beat or an opportunity, revelling in every minute. And she takes the ride in comfort, playing her body and voice like one synchronized instrument, occasionally dipping or drifting, a reminder that she's ever so alive and in control.
And while Cary Grant may seem a ridiculous match for West, and she's been manipulative and money-grubbing all the way, one can't help but feel happy for her eventual discovery of true love, her despicable charm earning her that much.
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