The film is something of an audible novel. Beaucoup dialog and much palaver, with a minimum of action. It’s a talky, slow exposition for the first three reels or so, all tending to indicate what a rat Anthony Mallare (Noel Coward), publisher, is.
When Julie Haydon becomes the latest romantic vis-a-vis, the motivation illustrates the same shabby technique which sends a real romance into the gutter. Coward meets destruction when an equally self-centred, cynical individual (Hope Williams) treats him in kind, and he thus becomes the victim of a NY-Bermuda plane wreck.
Histrionically Coward has his moments, but there are others when most film fans may find it a bit difficult to remain content with just an English accent and a Continental flair of character. The illusion isn’t always wholly there.
1935: Nomination: Best Original Story