Preposterous, lots of fun, as insanely blossom’d as The Wedding March, with paradoxical combinations of concert hall pretense and common folk idealizing, Eddy’s obnoxious American character gets on the nerves, but he and MacDonald still make a marvellous pair, and their on stage reunion manages to be fairly musically thrilling, and full of yearning tensions to boot, I’m amazed that Barrymore actually kills his rival, and delighted at the nerve that, two years before Goldwyn, dares to reunite the lovers as happy ghosts, feminists will quite appropriately be interested in how a gal’s career ambitions lead so inevitably to sorrow and failure, as emphasized by the fairly silly framing device, of course it’s probably true too, but for men and women alike