Forget the 'stale sex comedy' label; there's nothing here that's in the least shocking any more. What remains is an enchanting Fifties farce of misunderstandings, as Patty O'Neill -- the girl with a talent for saying exactly what she means and precisely what she should not -- innocently turns the lives of Don Gresham and his upstairs neighbour upside down.
Maggie McNamara is all artless elfin charm as the worldly but naive Patty, and William Holden provides solid support as Don, the architect who makes a pass at a pretty stranger without realising quite what he's letting himself in for. But, frankly, it is David Niven who steals the show, with a performance of endearing shamelessness as David Slater plus an exquisite sense of comic timing. With his appearance on the scene, the film ceases to be a simple screwball romance and becomes extremely funny.
Ironically, it is Slater the middle-aged playboy who shows the most sensitivity to Patty's own desires and expectations -- where the younger man demonstrates first an exploitative and then a self-righteous streak -- and Niven, with his knack of debonair self-deprecation, fully lives up to the 'sweet' and 'adorable' tags which to Don's fury she so casually bestows upon him. And even when the tables are apparently turned, David Slater's reaction is a good deal more generous-spirited than that of his rival. An ageing opportunist and ineffective father makes for an improbable attractive character, but in his way Slater is more likable than either of the younger but equally self-centred protagonists.
This being a romantic comedy, there has to be a proposal of marriage; several, in fact. Other features of significance include also a baking-tray, a bath, an electric iron, a fire-escape, an Irish cop, a promotional spot for beer, and the inevitable state of blameless but multiply-misinterpreted undress -- all the ingredients for a classic farce, with the aid of a snappy script, and expressive reactions from all the principals. This film had me laughing out loud in front of the television (admittedly mostly at Niven's tongue-in-cheek contributions!) but it also has the vital touch of humanity lacked by too many entries in the screwball genre. Crucially, despite its subject-matter, it doesn't depend on the shock-value of 'naughty' words to get its laughs, and as a result has worn well. Attitudes to pre-marital relations may have changed, but crossed wires and ironic repartee are as entertaining as ever.
