There is so much to like and admire in Edwards' intricate comedy about sexual identity which is neither vulgar nor preachy, combining a Clouseau-esque bedroom farce - and the prospect of characters coming out of the closet in all possible ways - with a convincing love story and just enough show-stopping musical numbers. It gives Andrews her best role ever as the beanpole English soprano peddling 'Cherry Ripe' to unimpressed cabaret managers in a wonderfully fake 'Paris 1934'. Befriended by Toddy (Preston), a very together 'gay' (much of the excellent dialogue's zip comes from the conscious use of anachronisms), Victoria is easily persuaded to pass herself off as a Bowie-elegant young man, and develops a scintillating drag act which delights Paris, confuses devout hetero King Marchan (Garner), and broadens the implications of the film, forcing the audience to ponder its own response to our sweet, safe and usually unsexy Julie suddenly coming on so attractive as a fella in a dress. Well, as the song says, climb every mountain. Don't miss this one. It sends sparks.