Let's Live Tonight: A Yacht, A Heartbreak, And Very Little Substance

Is it worth your time?

If you find yourself craving a movie where everyone is perpetually wearing a tuxedo or an evening gown, you might get a kick out of Let's Live Tonight. It’s light, it’s airy, and it’s about as substantial as a puff of cigarette smoke in a grand ballroom.

If you prefer your movies to have actual stakes, or characters that aren't just wealthy people whining about their own yachts, you should probably stay far away. It’s a movie that barely exists once the credits roll.

Tullio Carminati plays Nick, the kind of guy who probably thinks a crisis is running out of champagne on a Tuesday. He spends the first half of the film sailing around, looking bored and handsome, which seems to be the only qualification for being a leading man in this specific era of cinema.

Lilian Harvey plays the poor, gullible Kay. She really tries to make the heartbreak feel real, but the script is so busy being charming that it forgets to be human. Every time she looks sad, the camera lingers just a second too long, as if it’s waiting for the audience to start weeping right along with her.

The Monte Carlo Problem

The whole film is set against this backdrop of Monte Carlo that feels incredibly painted and fake. It has that stagey quality that makes you miss the grittiness of something like Our Hospitality, which at least had a sense of place.

There is this one scene where they are all standing around on a deck, and the lighting is so bright it looks like they are being interrogated by the sun. I couldn't stop looking at a background extra who clearly had nothing to do but pretend to pour a drink for three minutes straight. He looked more bored than I felt.

The plot twist—if you can even call it that—is that Nick returns from India and finds out Kay is engaged to his buddy. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but they play it so straight it becomes almost funny. There is no real tension, just a lot of stiff upper lips and people staring longingly at boats.

Honestly, the best part of the movie is Arthur Treacher, who pops up and adds a little bit of vinegar to an otherwise overly sweet dish. He’s the only one who seems to know that he’s in a movie, rather than a glorified perfume commercial.

• The yacht scenes are suspiciously calm, like they’re sitting in a bathtub.
• Nobody ever seems to work, which I guess is the point.
• The dialogue is so clipped and fast that I missed three lines just because I sneezed.
• There is a distinct lack of actual consequences for anyone involved.

I wouldn't say this is a disaster, but it’s certainly not a classic. It’s just... there. It’s a movie that plays in the background of your life while you fold laundry or stare at your phone. If you want to see how people in the 30s thought rich people lived, watch it. Otherwise, there are plenty of better ways to kill an hour. Maybe rewatch Madame Du Barry if you want something with actual bite.