It’s fairly obvious that the same plot mechanics and situations [from suggestions by Lowell Brentano and a treatment by Harlan Thompson] without Mae West wouldn’t be a motion picture at all. But that’s no criticism. It’s all West, plus a good directing job by Wesley Ruggles and first-rate studio production quality in all departments.
Laughs are all derived froom the West innuendos and the general good-natured bawdiness of the heroine, whose progress from a carnival mugg-taker to a deluxe millionaire-annexer is marked by a succession of gentlemen friends, mostly temporary and usually suckers.
When reaching affluence the carnival gal is serviced by four colored maids in an ultra- penthouse and garbed in the flashy manner of an Oriental potentate’s pampered pet.
Every now and again West bursts into a song, generally just a chorus or a strain. They’re of the Frankie and Johnny genre, but primarily she plays a lion tamer, not a songstress.