Even for the early 1940s, this movie is seriously, and ludicrously, sexist. The bride, who has a dim grasp on money, comes from a privileged family; if she were a man, she'd be considered a dashing playboy, but as a woman, she is shown as just silly and bubble-headed, But when she begins to understand that they are living beyond their means, she gets a job--over the husband's serious objections: he feels entitled to come home to a well-kept house (which appears to be a three-room cottage) and a hot meal on the table. The trite situations between do nothing to modify this attitude. When the young wife wants to cook dinner for their family, she--of course--muffs it, rinsing the vegetables with soap, serving a roast too tough to carve, and smoking up the house from a badly lit fireplace (why that last is her fault, I don't quite understand, but somehow it seems to be, as is the embarrassment of learning that her father has revoked her country-club privileges. Somehow the young husband is never at fault, he is a pompous jerk but seen as a noble and upright young man. Adequate acting aside,the movie is painful to watch.
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