Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day is a delightfully warm-hearted film with a wit as sharp as its tongue. The characters have whimsical charm, but lack a writing that stinks of self-indulgence. The film smothered me with affection so greatly that I felt the urge to hug someone.
Amy Adams is the real deal. Here she channels the exuberance and charm of a young Katherine Hepburn. She plays Delysia, a socialite in late 1930s London with a talent for charming the wealthy men around her. She has not one wealthy boyfriend, but an entire slew of them. With screwball timing, she juggles different boyfriends in and out of her penthouse, trying to stop one from encountering the other. Delysia enlists the help of Miss Pettigrew (Frances McDormand), a woman in poverty who mistakenly takes the job of “social secretary” somewhat by accident. Without much understanding of the moral void that exists in this social world, Miss Pettigrew relies on acting and improvisation to keep her job, or else be thrown back out into poverty.
Director Bharat Nalluri begins the movie with the pacing of a 1930s screwball comedy, but deepens the film into something even juicier. Neither Delysia nor Miss Pettigrew are exactly who they say they are. Delysia seems to be a charming airhead, but surprises us by removing her façade and demonstrating her quick wit. In order to survive in the social climate, she has to make fast decisions, just as Pettigrew must do the same. Underneath these lavish costumes and stylish fashions are the socialite survivors of the fittest.
There is an audience for this kind of movie. It is described as a fairy tale for grown-ups, and that’s just about a perfect description. The film plays like a comedy that Cary Grant would have made, but with a few more nude shots. Thus the reason for its PG-13 rating. The film’s magic and charm is reminiscent of that in Adam’s previous film, Enchanted. Adams is quickly becoming one of the best actresses of our time, and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day is yet another example of her stellar acting.
