That Touch of Mink (1962)

That Touch of Mink is the kind of glossy, grown-up romantic comedy they simply don’t make anymore: bright as champagne, paced like a well-tuned farce, and powered by two stars who know exactly how to turn charm into comic electricity. Cary Grant glides through the film with that effortless sophistication, while Doris Day—funny, flustered, and wonderfully game—keeps the story grounded in real feelings even as it sparkles with misunderstandings, swanky getaways, and perfectly timed sight gags. Delbert Mann directs with brisk precision, letting the jokes land cleanly and the romance simmer without ever losing its playful snap. If you’re allergic to early-’60s gender politics or broad therapist-humor stereotypes, you may wince now and then—but if you want a witty, glittering date movie with classic Hollywood timing, this one is a delight.

That Touch of Mink is trying to be a glossy, grown-up rom-com about desire versus “doing things properly,” powered almost entirely by the star charm of Cary Grant and Doris Day. The problem is that the plot is basically a string of cute situations and misunderstandings that can feel thin, overly familiar, and a bit too pleased with itself, with direction that rarely adds bite or surprise. If you’re hoping for genuinely sharp comedy, emotional complexity, or anything that challenges the era’s gender politics, you may find it cutesy and threadbare beneath the sheen. But if you’re in the mood for old-Hollywood polish, light innuendo, and two pros coasting on charisma (plus a few standout comic beats from Gig Young), it can still be an easy, undemanding watch.