The book “Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day” waited 60 years to turn into a movie. It benefited for the tension of getting to throw in an air-raid, references to blackouts and a slew of bombers, to cement the time and place as immediately pre-war London. But it suffers far more for modern prejudices, struggling to be dumber than it is.

Classic mid-century romances like “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” “All About Eve” and “Some Like It Hot,” still easily shock, amaze and drop jaws. “Pettigrew” did nothing for my jaw, though it was still an enjoyable watch.

The dialog snapped and revived the era effortlessly. The production values are sublime. The costumes were Vogue-glossy. Frances McDormand, down-on-her-luck servant Miss Pettigrew, could play the black smoke on “Lost” and make it watchable. Amy Adams, as the lusted-after ingenue, is as thoroughly and surprisingly multi-talented as Marilyn (albeit without the intrigue of being a Britney). It’s worth watching the movie just to see McDormand’s work smoking a cigar and Adams total distraction over her sable coat. And I could watch Shirley Henderson (who plays the evil foil, Edythe) read Good Housekeeping’s 2003 interview with Laura Bush out loud and get a kick out of it.

It’s not that Adams gets thrown around a bit by her lovers. A good slap can be character development (“Gone With the Wind”) or humor (“Clue”), and if you don’t think so, we might as well get rid of brilliant movies where people inflict pain with fists (“Fight Club”), lead pipe (“Clue” again) and the sensibilities of George Lucas. Because showing a woman getting a little shake no more encourages people to stuff their business partners in wood chippers and to claim otherwise is hysterical, and you know what’s good for that…

It’s not even the theme that the only way to breathe in a man’s world is by winning the love of one of them, as a sort of immunity. And that sounds awful, but if two people connect, understand, love and trust each other completely, it is shield, umbrella, safety net and trenchcoat over the mud puddle. That’s not a gender thing.

It’s that this movie could have been better a half century ago. All the vintage lenses, Victorian iceboxes, cage elevators and dead stock steel corsets can’t make “Pettigrew” into a classic film about pre-war London. I can’t imagine the challenge of leading a full film team across that chronological and cultural gap. Those in charge of this production made a happy ending movie with a good message about love.

Maybe that’s sneer-worthy. Maybe not. The movie’s about picking your priorities - I’ll take another second viewing of “Some Like It Hot” next time.