Critics reviews

A comedy of errors, sure, but being Pre-Code, there's no shortage of saucy—even ribald—innuendo wading through Kay Johnson's perusal of hubby Reginald Denny's ill mores. Mix-ups abound, but they're tame compared to Madam Satan‘s hard left turn into a Busby Berkeley-esque Ambien dream: an orgiastic masquerade ball aboard a zeppelin, headed by dancing gears, works, and sparks... Truly one of the weirdest romps of any era.

It's a ravishing bunch of sets, like the unholy mating of Metropolis and The Hollywood Revue of 1929 — big ramps and shiny Bakelite staircases angling up and down. The guests mill about in costumes as unapologetically tasteless as anything MGM ever did. Worth waiting for: the woman whose symbolic "fish" costume has her attached to a toy fisherman, and another dressed as "the call of the wild," complete with a stuffed elephant and leopard and a yard-wide white-wool wig.