Thesis statement: there is no escaping the entropy of sex. WET WOMAN IN THE WIND is cute, funny, and smart. Sexy, sure. It gleefully degenerates in the best way possible. Our hero has isolated himself to fend against the onslaught of womankind and his own glands. Nothing doing. From a wonderful opening the film develops leisurely, though in antic screwball mode, only to very suddenly go judiciously bananas. Yay!