And as such International House has been construed as really nothing more than a comedic variety show. There’s no real plot to the film other than a location, the central McGuffin of the invention and a lot of comedic interludes set around the hotel. The film certainly wheels out an amazing cast, many of whom were clearly stars in their day but whose names have faded to forgettability today. One of the great delights of the show is George Burns and his wife/performing partner of 42 years, Gracie Allen. Both are polished and at the height of their act, spinning out a dizzying barrage of non-stop puns. The other joy of the film is W.C. Fields who, even though not top-billed, completely dominates the film from the point he enters about a third of the way through, whereupon he spends the rest of the time wandering through like a drunken force of chaos, upsetting everybody’s sensibilities to quite hilarious effect.

Director Edward Sutherland has a quite appealingly light touch to the comedy – there are times the film is quite nutty, most notably a totally gonzo climax with Fields in a car with a hood too small for his head so that he has to poke it through the canopy and then place his hat on on top, driving through the hotel halls and lobby pursued by a gaggle of bystanders. The film’s most surreal moment is a dance number with chorus girls wearing giant cups and transparent saucers as dresses.