Mr. First Lady

Kisses for My President. Don't like Goldwater? Don't like Johnson either? Cheer up, says this sappy little election-year comedy. Having the wrong man for President isn't half as bad as having the wrong man for First Lady.

Seems that Fred MacMurray is married to Polly Bergen, who becomes the first woman President of the United States. That makes Fred, in effect, mistress of the White House. While his wife runs the country, Fred runs the home. He plans the meals, looks after the children, goes shopping with visiting VIPs, sends the missus off to work with a kiss, and in the evening asks her how things went at the office. "Pretty well," she replies with a sigh. "But I'm dead tired. Mind if I go straight to sleep?"

Poor old Fred. As a husband he minds, but as a citizen he is too patriotic to protest. He tries to take refuge in reading, but finds himself eagerly perusing The Making of the President. He pursues a practical solution (Arlene Dahl) to his problem but finds that a man with two women is a man with two bosses. In the end, he takes a stand against petticoat government, reasserts himself as the master of the White House and makes the President pregnant. Unable to carry a child and the burdens of office, she resigns.

But don't worry, girls. No man who makes movies in a matriarchy would dare to suggest that the war between men and women could possibly conclude with a masculine victory. In the last frame of the last reel, Fred is subtly reminded of what every woman knows: the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.