My problem with this film is that it tries to do too much, and doesn't have the time to adequately develop any of its themes to a satisfying conclusion. Romantic comedy, screwball comedy, political intrigue, comedy of mannersit has so many angles that it leaves one rather unsatisfied. Monroe, even with her sometimes doe-eyed stupor, is still captivating---I am a fan, and part of her appeal to me is her sometimes obvious lack of polished acting tricks. She sometimes walks a tightrope in her performance, just on the edge of tumbling into abject amateurism, and that tension is definitely part of her appeal. You can't take her eyes off of hera bit like watching the Indy 500 and secretly dreading yet anticipating a fatal crash, all the while captivated by the sheer beauty of the event. Laurence Olivier, on the other hand, is imminently forgettable in thischoosing to play the character as a stereotype. We learn so little about what makes him tick, other than the obvious fact that he keeps his emotions bottled-up. And there is something reptilian about his eyes which keep me from ever regarding him as someone's romantic interest. They always looked narrow and conniving, and it just got worse with age. Yes, there seemed little chemistry between them, and in spite of what I just said about his eyes, there just wasn't any time devoted to letting that chemistry develop. Did I miss something, or did Marilyn announce her love for him in the midst of his predictable, bumbling attempts to be seductive? If so, I must assume she was just overwhelmed by his looks, and I find this incomprehensible. Overall, this remains a weak entry in Marilyn's oeuvre. It was visually delightful, with a sort of premeditated artifice which lent it a storybook charm. If only the writing could have accomplished the same.