Watching Willi Forst's wonderful screwball comedy - released at the time of the Berlin Olympics in 1936 - it's almost possible to imagine a 1930s Germany in which Nazism never happened. This is an elegant, fast-paced film drawing on some of the classiest comedy talent Germany had to offer at the time, and self-consciously modern, with its cocktails, ocean liners, racing car drivers and drop-dead art deco interiors. Anton Walbrook is suitably Errol Flynn-like as the handsome lady killer Phillip, while Heinz Ruehmann is for once overshadowed by his co-stars. It's the women who steal the show here, including the excellent Renate Mueller, who also starred in Viktor, Viktoria and habitually played modern, emancipated types. But the film belongs even more to Hilde Hildebrandt as the vampish Aimee, who better than anyone else in this ensemble piece knows how to camp it up to the max when necessary. The only mystery is why this film didn't come to the attention of Hollywood - and why Willi Forst's evident talent wasn't promptly snapped up by the US.
