Day's Hard Night

Do Not Disturb. Doris Day approaches her career as Hollywood's No. 1 lady moneymaker with a fit sense of responsibility toward what amounts to a public trust. When people go to a Doris Day movie, they apparently want to see an ordinary, aw-shucksy sort of a girl with a sunny disposition and a $100,000 wardrobe, who sooner or later wakes up somewhere and mutters something like: "Paul, what happened last night?" Doris never disappoints.

This time she is married to Rod Taylor, who gamely shoulders the burden of manning a myth. The two have moved to England for business reasons, and Doris quickly establishes herself as an adorable young matron who is crazy about Rod, small animals and bird watchers, but detests those horrid men who hunt foxes. She also drives on the wrong side of the road. She just doesn't seem cut out for England.

Following a misunderstanding about the hours Rod spends with his secretary, Doris flies off to Paris with an antique dealer (Sergio Fantoni). It is only a shopping junket, but Doris gets drunk, gets reckless, finally gets trapped for the night in a tiny shop where the dealer tries to arouse her interest in a highly compromising old bed. Eventually, she recaptures wedded bliss, but not until she lands by mistake in another wrong bed. In fact, she is the incarnation of a loud, bumptious, overdressed lady tourist on the town. Which raises another question: If Doris Day becomes America's bad-will ambassador abroad, what hope can there be for the plain folks back home?

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