Ernst Lubitsch, who produced as well as directed this sharply erotic comedy, seems to have saved up some of his best gags for a candid tale of unfulfilled desire, psychoanalysis, modern art, brazen infidelity and antiquated divorce laws.

Does not quite come off but contains some clever photography and begins amusingly.

More silly than amusing.

Merle Oberon is on quite good form here as the married "Jill" who has trouble with her hiccoughs. It is suggested that she goes to see a psychoanalyst to try and cure this rather embarrassing problem. Before she knows it, she is becoming disillusioned with her husband "Larry" (Melvyn Douglas) and after a chance meeting with equally flaky pianist "Alexander" (Burgess Meredith) nobody quite knows which way is up. I have to say that "Jill" rather wound me up, she's frankly a bit of a pain in the neck who is spoiled and short sighted. Meredith is almost as unlikeable - indeed they probably deserve each other - and I wondered if poor old "Larry" might just be better off out of it. The story flows quite well, though, and there is some humour to be had as their behaviour gradually descends in something farcical. It's an hard film to like, the characters are all pretty odious and self-serving, but the production and the dialogue contribute well to a film where the acting is actually pretty effective.