The wife of a stage producer in London hopes to fix up the American song-and-dance man starring in her husband's latest show with an acquaintance, an American girl who makes her living modeling fashions in society circles. Unfortunately, the couple has already met on their own, with the girl thinking the guy is actually the show producer married to her friend (the fact he's not wearing a wedding ring should have discouraged any misunderstandings!). Wafty Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers musical is eventually dragged back down to the earth by Dwight Taylor and Allan Scott's idiotic script, which is full of juvenile behavior. Astaire and Rogers don't just 'meet cute'--they meet ridiculously (he's tap-dancing like a madman in the hotel suite above hers and she complains). Audiences of 1935 probably didn't care how these two were going to get together--as long as they did so, and happily. Seen today, the central characters appear to have no motivation to end up in each other's arms: he plies her with flowers (after telling his friend he wants to remain "fancy free" in the love department) and she gives him the brush-off. Nothing that a little dancing couldn't cure! This glamorous twosome are as deliberately unreal as are the London and Venice settings, but we watch simply because the leads are Fred and Ginger. It's a fantasy for have-nots...ones who don't mind the dumbed-down plot. The musical moments do break up the monotony of the contrived scenario, yet fail to transcend the surrounding silliness. ** from ****