Meu Filho Não Se Vende

Cecil Kellaway is driving Martha O'Driscoll to the hospital to have her baby. The taxi gets caught in a snowdrift and they take shelter in the home of widowed Nobel Prize laureate (Physics) Richard Carlson. The physician says she can't be moved, so there she rests, much to the anger of two sets of in-laws: her snobby in-laws who want the baby taken from his ex-bubble-dancer mother; and his in-laws, Florence and her daughter, Frances Gifford, whom they have been scheming since the funeral to marry Carlson.

It's a slight comedy, nothing compared to stronger works like BALL OF FIRE, but then, it's all B talent in front of and behind the camera, except for two. As it chugs its way soddenly through its rote plot, Kellaway, who seems to have been every man in his time, is the single shining bright spot -- although if you wanted a malicious harpy for a comedy, you couldn't do much better than Florence Bates. Despite their efforts, it's a programmer, and the couple at the core are two busy reciting their lines in character to be of much more interest than the realization that they're what this movie is supposed to be concerned with.

It's all about the spelling! "Prof. Inglethorpe" (Richard Carlson) is a renowned educator whose life is turned upside down when a pregnant woman comes to say with them. She - "Joyce" (Martha O'Dricoll) is a showgirl who is probably going to put her child up for adoption as she cannot afford to bring it up properly. Romance takes an hand though, of course, but this is where it gets a little interesting. He likes her and she likes him, but "Mrs. Saunders" (Florence Bates) has designs on the man for her daughter "Grace" (Frances Gifford) and so starts to make waves. Some of these waves prove big enough to drive the new mother from their home and him on a track for the wrong nuptials. Fortunately, he has a sort of fairy godfather figure in his life. The scene stealing Cecil Kellaway ("Alfred") is on hand to prod him in the right direction and try to pluck triumph from disaster. There's nothing really very original here, but that wouldn't have mattered so much had there been some chemistry on screen. There isn't. Though O'Driscoll has a little more scope with her character, the Gifford/Bates double act - augmented (?) by the younger "Babs" (Velma Berg) - is just over-played, and Carlson is nowhere near his best with this rather shallow role. It's watchable enough, but I doubt I will ever remember it.