At present we shall take up only the dramatic climaces of the work.

We don't need people with ambiguous agendas telling us how to deal with problematic owners/advocates of either the mucho dumbbutt or Pollyannaish variety.

But finally to return to literary conventions, it is plot, more than anything else, that came to seem antireal.

It's contrived and flatfooted, and neither Loy nor Powell enjoyed making it, despite its bang-up finale: a free-for-all wedding featuring two brides (Margit and Irene), two grooms, a confused preacher, quite a few drunks from the bar next door, and a maximum of conmmotion -- all crammed into Charlie's tiny trailer in a Capra-esque crowd scene.