William Powell and Myrna Loy, though not together in this film for very long (as the film focuses largely on Ziegfeld's varied acquaintance), still manage to exude their typical chemistry. I have never seen those two in any films that didn't just make me want to hug them both. Powell alone has some panache, and a great deal of pleasant sarcasm, and Myrna Loy has enough humor to remind me happily of Ginger Rogers (one of the funniest ladies I've ever seen), but together, they make magic. I guess some screen personalities just happen that way. Until Loy makes her appearance in Ziegfeld , I actually had some trouble sympathizing with the character, and the lavish stage scenes, though they made me gasp and wonder even now, actually seemed to drag on quite a bit. I fast-forwarded them once I got the drift. I think the camera might have moved too little, and my postmodern brain can't handle a shot longer than seven seconds unless Fred Astaire is in it. I don't want to ...