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One of the worst bombs of the 1970s, this foolish attempt at re-creating the lush musicals of the 1930s offers fabulous art deco sets, memorable Cole Porter songs, and slick production values, yet it goes down like a stricken elephant. The inconsequential plot follows the champagne-swilling exploits of four wealthy gadabouts (Reynolds, Shepherd, Kahn, and Del Prete) who burst into song or get happy feet on the slightest pretext. Shepherd, who was romantically involved with critic-turned-director Bogdanovich at the time, has a bitchy comedy line but her singing, while not inept, isn't magnetic, either. Reynolds's casting seems a total mystery, unless it was for box-office; his two left feet and thin, strained voice offer not a clue. Porter's songs are here recorded "live" on film (rather than lip-synched), a mistake of overwhelming porportions, considering the leads, and while you're dreading the next song, the witless script, like Old Man River, just keeps rollin' along.