Molta brigata vita beata

The first half-hour is a triumph of comedic architecture. The screen fairly crackles with madcap antics as Jean Arthur tries to keep an over-crowded national capital from crowding into her bedroom. Coburn may look unthreatening but he's expert at maneuvering. Just listen to him fast-talk his way into her kitchen, her bathroom, and "full speed ahead", where will it stop. Then there's McCrea—an eligible man in a city full of lonely women. He's a definite threat, and if things weren't crowded enough, Coburn has shoe-horned him into what's left. What's a girl to do, living with two men, and engaged to a third. Oh well, it is Washington DC and it is wartime, so stick to the house schedule, and things will work out. Maybe.

Of course, they do, but not the way Arthur thinks. No wonder an unheralded 66-year old actor gets an Oscar for his performance. Coburn steals the show with his amusing and crafty Benjamin Dingle. It seems he's always one step ahead of everyone else, whether arranging housing plans or tearing down romantic walls. It's also an Arthur showcase, proving again what an expert comedic actress she was, while McCrea blends in nicely as the handsome straight man. However, once the romantic phase takes over and Coburn fades, the crackle stretches out into the merely cute.

Sure, some of the material has lost some of the edge to changing mores. Do single, working women still worry about reputation. For that matter, do men. Nonetheless, that first half-hour remains a gem of timing, scripting and staging, unaffected by passing years. If there was a brighter comedic exercise during those terrible war years, I haven't seen it.