A very pleasant, old-fashioned comedy of manners. A delightful group of players make the most of a screenplay that is filled to the brim with chucklesome dialogue. Director Edward H. Griffith has wisely chosen to play the whole thing straight without undue emphases or heavily weighted advance signals. You have to keep right on your toes to digest such gems as Loretta Young's casual remark that Tyrone's hat makes him look like "an eccentric pall-bearer" (and watch for the shop assistant's astute manipulation of the said hat under cover of the ensuing conversation). I loved Charles Winninger's flat aside on European nobility: "If they're charming, they're fake. If they're genuine, they're dumb!" (A dictum which he later expatiates at greater length: "He was the dumbest, stupidest dope I ever had the misfortune to shake hands with!")<br /><br />In a roll of velvet like this, much depends on the skills of director and cast. With Café Metropole they cut the cloth perfectly, abetted by stylish, class "A" production values including Lucien Andriot's fine camera-work, glossily attractive sets and a caressingly tuneful music score.