Vuelve amor mío

In New York's Fifth Avenue 'hive' of advertising agencies, the executives are either 'workers' or 'drones'. The former are industrious and diligent (and female), and the latter (the men) get by on wining and dining their clients. Carol Templeton is very much a worker, and she resents losing an account to Jerry Webster, the drone of all drones. One of Jerry's schemes (should that be 'scams'?) is the invention of "Vip", a non-existent commodity. He markets the new product so successfully that Vip becomes an overnight sensation. Throw in a severe case of mistaken identity, a nutty professor and a bungled seduction, and you have all the ingredients for a pleasant and well-constructed romantic comedy.

This was the second of the three Day-Hudson movies, and probably the best. Tony Randall is consistently funny as Peter Ramsey, the ineffectual company boss. Day does the humour very well, even if the main part of her duties is to pull a series of exasperated faces. There's a good split-screen graphic and a funny moose joke. Rock's woollen suit is amusing, and I liked the witty conclusion to the aquarium scene. Just one thought - why is Doris's hair so resiliently bouffant immediately after she steps out of the sea?

Everybody knows now that Rock Hudson was gay, but it goes without saying that this was far from universally acknowledged back in 1961. Is it my imagination, or does the film contain a vein of subtle "Rock-is-one-of-those" drollery? He makes a tongue in cheek speech to Doris, telling her that he can never be a real man to her. When the effeminate co-worker informs Doris that he has a lilac carpet in his apartment, she does a highly significant double-take. Rock keeps saying things like "I am not undersexed!" He tells Doris that he's taking her in - is he doing the same to the movie audience?

Finally, given that no lovers part, and indeed there ARE no lovers in the entire film, one wonders about the choice of title ...