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From the moment its snappy credits bounce across the screen, "Down With Love" announces itself as a merry parody-pastiche of all those late '50s/early '60s sex comedies whose sex-and-the-single-girl plots usually involved smoothie Rock Hudson trying to get chaste "career girl" Doris Day into bed while Tony Randall looked on as Hudson's befuddled fussbudget second banana.

It was a time of Camelot and martinis, when 007 was in full schwing and audiences cheered the deride-and-conquer tactics of our man Rock (who, we learned much later, would've been happier chasing Tony). But as we were reminded by last fall's "Far From Heaven," topics like homosexuality or feminism were too serious (taboo?) to be part of the picture.

Feather-light and frothy, "Down With Love" isn't interested in being serious, either, even if that subtext does bubble to the surface (the operative word being "bubble"). It's 1962 and Barbara Novak (Renée Zellweger) arrives in New York City with a head full of "If I can make it here" dreams. She's just written a pre-feminism book that counsels women to stop connecting sex with love if they want to get ahead in the business world. In other words, be like men in the bedroom so they can be better than men in the boardroom.

Bounder-about-town Catcher Block (Ewan McGregor), a writer for the men's magazine Know, rightly sees her book as the writing on the wall for the roué way of life. He's determined to bring Barbara to her knees -- any way he can. To that end, he masquerades as a shy astronaut whose "shucks-ma'am" routine would placate the Singing Nun (one of a number of pop culture references the movie romps through).

After a slightly flat middle, the movie shifts into high gear and introduces complications. Not '60s-satire complications, but the real thing. "Down With Love" could have coasted along on its savvy sendups of pillbox hats and sleek bachelor pads and its knowing jabs at gender conventions that have gone the way of iron-maiden girdles. Instead, the movie goes beyond pure parody to a more convoluted level whose deceptions evoke a Restoration comedy.

Director Peyton Reed and his peerless production team have created a retro-delight -- the bright colors, the satisfyingly fake "sophisticated Manhattan" backdrops, the glamorous costumes, the spunky heroine, the nudging double-entendres. Speaking of which, there's a smutty and amusing double-entendre split-screen visual that replicates all those split-screen pillow talks Rock and Doris shared.

The cast is pitch-perfect, too. From the stars' sidekicks (arch Sarah Paulson for her, effete David Hyde Pierce for him) to a you-have-my-blessings cameo by Randall, the movie exudes goodwill and good work. Zellweger starts out a little too cartoonish -- even Doris never minced like that -- but she soon settles down, giving Barbara a girly perkiness that's too irresistible to be cloying. McGregor is hilarious from the moment he swaggers onscreen, capturing that caddish aura so many early-'60s swingers assumed in their effort to emulate Rat Pack cool.

"Down With Love" works wonderfully well as a re-creation of a more innocent time for which the seismic shifts of Woodstock and Watergate were far, far away. But it's also a delightful romantic comedy on its own terms. These folks clearly had a lot of fun making this movie. Almost as much fun as you'll have watching it.