In this movie based on a play by Roger MacDougall, John Gregson is the ex-husband of Shelley Winters. He's remarried to Peggy Cummins, who has been about to give birth for a couple of weeks, and they're stony. For purposes of the plot, Miss Winters' rich uncle has died and left her two million dollars, unless Gregson has a son by, oh, ten minutes before the end of the show, in which case the money goes to him. Don't worry about the logic; since you couldn't have a problem without it, in which case there's no movie, and then no one gets paid in front of or behind the camera. And that would be a bad thing.
So, once you've accepted that premise, how is it? It's a well-acted bit of legalistic nonsense as midwife Mona Washburne, taxi drivers, and lawyer Alfred Hyde-White troop on and off the screen, and much is made of time zones, the International Date Line, and details of marriage and divorce laws in Tonga and Bolivia, which be true for all I know. The audience is expected to accept these things as a matter of fact, just like the characters. It's certainly decently acted, and there are good comics lurking in small roles, like Aurey Mathers, Joan Sims, Charles Hawtrey, and Alfie Bass.
Having recently finished a couple of continental comedies from before the War, I find it suffers from a feeling of brittleness that seems to infect midde-brow British comedies in the decade. People start out looking like human beings, and then a situation comes up, and suddenly they're being pushed around by the the plot, if you catch my drift. They seem quite content to have the situation run over them without much in the way of fighting. I find that a bit inhuman. As a result, I find this movie intermittently amusing, rather than actually funny, no matter the issues of Daylight Savings Time looking over the entire operation.
