Cary Grant plays the just-so-you-know-I'm-married cad (let's say a 1958 George Clooney) to Ingrid Bergman's there-are-no-good-ones-left-I've-exhaustively-checked London stage actress. She has a lot of fun rolling her eyes and generally hamming it up to the camera, sporting something like her natural accent. In three sessions due to a lack of grip, and some hope that Bergman would get a lot bitchier towards the end, which was not to be. Grant does OK in the serious parts early on but lets it all go in the last half where he phones in one of his earlier performances. (He delivers his lines in that final scene like offcuts from His Girl Friday.) The material is weak (this is no Notorious) but the leads inject sufficient fun that I'll take what I can get.
A. H. Weiler at the time. He's right, Bergman should've made more comedies.