How to Marry a Millionaire isn’t especially brilliantly scripted; funny one-liners are thin on the ground and the plot is totally transparent: three fashion models rent a posh flat as a “bear trap” a swish pad into which to lure millionaires – and no prizes for guessing the results.
The performances aren’t stunning either and as for technics like direction, photography, lighting, bla... well they’re all perfectly adequate, but nothing worth mentioning.
Having said all that though, the film is curiously enticing. The styling is fab (all that faded 50s technicolor and curly furniture) and the clothes are deliciously eccentric. Did our Moms really run around town in little pixie hats? (I boggle to think of mine in one.)
But of course it’s the stars that make the movie worth buying popcorn for; Marilyn Monroe, Betty Grable and Lauren Bacall (more or less playing themselves) glitter for all they’re worth and between them they know more than most about glitz.
Okay, so maybe these dames don’t act. Who cares? With charisma like this, whadaya want acting for, Buster? Listen, they walk, don’t they? They talk, they got legs and curves like modern women just ain’t got... oh Brother have they got curves...
And I particularly like Bacall’s throw away line about the “old guy” from “The African Queen”. Ah, sweet.
In fact, hang on a minute. I’m just off to play it again.
