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In New York, the interior decorator Jan Morrow and the wolf composer Brad Allen share a party line, but Brad keeps it busy most of the time flirting with his girlfriends. They do not know each other but Jan hates Brads since she needs the telephone for her business and can not use it. Coincidently Jan's wealthy client Jonathan Forbes that woos her is the best friend of Brad and he comments with him that he feels an unrequited love for Jan, who is a gorgeous woman. When Brad meets Jan by chance in a restaurant, he poses as a naive tourist from Texas named Rex Stetson and seduces her. But Jonathan hires a private eye to find who Rex Stetson is. Written by
Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Marilyn Monroe wanted to play Jan Morrow. See more »
Jan Morrow is about to make a complaint to the phone company, that she can never get a call through, because it is always occupied by the other half of her party line, Mr Brad Allen.
But when she goes to the elevator in her apartment block, (after an altercation with Mr Allen about this very matter) and meets drunk Alma coming out of it, one of her instructions to her maid is to call the office, and tell them she will be a little bit late. See more »
If you'll excuse me, I better go to the powder moon. I mean room. Fix my lipstick.
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A party-line turns an interior decorator and a songwriting ladies' man into enemies--that is, until he gets a look at her. When Doris Day is forced into a nightclub by a junior-suitor, she makes the best of it and does a shimmy on the dance-floor in a tight white dress--you can't blame Rock Hudson (at a nearby table) nor the cameraman for zooming in on her derrière, which wiggles seductively and comically. This businesswoman is really a closeted gal-about-town, and Day gives one of her freshest, funniest performances here. I also liked the tinkly background score and the handful of songs (the title cut, "Roly Poly" and "Possess Me"), but apparently Doris didn't. In her autobiography, she scathingly dismisses all the music from her '60s bedroom comedies as "mediocre", blaming her skinflint husband for bypassing top-rank composers like Henry Mancini for "a bunch of no-names". Why Doris!!
***1/2 from ****
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