as man criticizes woman's mercenery snobbery, the case of "how to marry a millionaire" might be dismissed as irrelevantly worthless. just as monroe quibs at "gentlemen prefer to blondies", woman liking rich man is as fair as man evaluate woman by appearance, and it probably makes the most sense. and this husband-tracking theme is utterly reserved for female audience but somehow some contrary sarcasm mingled with human warmth has been injected in it that evolves it into a classy social satire sweetened with a comic flair.
misogynists might bombard feminie vanity for luxury but they definitely have no clue that females are sharp in the tongue but gentle in the heart, and ironically none of these three females end up with rich men as they assume in the first place, especially bacall's character who nullifies her potential marriage to the rich debonair elderman played by william powell who manifests great gentile demeanor to breeze a woman's heart with proper respects. the conclusive point in this comedy shall be human affection surpasses materialistic ambition, despite whatever they may say or claim, their hearts are bigger than their purses but they ain't aware of it.
the cutest joke in this flick would be monroe's near-sightedness, particularly when she mistakes a blind eyepatch as a beaten bruise. monroe has the residual childlike innocence ironically contrasted with her million-watt sensual outlook. the gowns and constumes in this flick are well-designed by travilla. notably the red paillette dinner gown monroe wears in front of the four-folded mirror has become a fashion milestone.
the end credict has a witty cynical touch: as three women faint while bacall's seemingly prole lad flings 1000 cash just for several pairs of hamburgers, then the men rise and toast "gentlemen, to our wives!"