The screenplay by Jay Cocks is based on the life and career of Cole Porter, from his first meeting with his wife, Linda Lee Thomas, until his death.

He recalls the night he met his wife, Linda Lee Thomas, a recent divorcee and stunning beauty.

Linda begins the tradition of presenting Cole with a custom designed and engraved Cartier cigarette case at the opening of each new show.

It is not until Cole is seriously injured in a horse riding accident that Linda returns to his side, willing to forgive, but still finding difficulty in coping with his extramarital affairs.

According to Winkler's commentary on the DVD release of the film, he had considered numerous actresses for the role of Linda when Ashley Judd's agent advised him she was interested in the part.

Winkler was certain her salary demand would exceed that allowed by the budget, but the actress was so anxious to portray Linda she was willing to lower her usual asking price.

"[9] In his review in The New York Times, Stephen Holden called the film "lethally inert" and "lifeless and drained of genuine joie de vivre" and added, "It didn't have to be like this.

In their highly stylized ways, All That Jazz (Bob Fosse's morbidly manic screen autobiography), Ken Russell's surreal portraits of composers or any of Federico Fellini's libidinous self-explorations have delved deeply into the muck of artistic creativity.

"[10] Ruthe Stein of the San Francisco Chronicle said, "The movie never gels – despite Kline's nuanced performance, the stars' exquisite period clothes designed by Armani, and, of course, Porter's great songs.

"[11] In Rolling Stone, Peter Travers rated the film three out of a possible four stars and commented, "In voice, manner, patrician charm and private torment, Kevin Kline is perfection as legendary composer Cole Porter .

"[12] Steve Persall of the St. Petersburg Times graded the film C− and observed, "The movie is actually an ugly compilation of clashing cinematic styles occasionally salvaged by musical numbers that essentially are part of the problem.

You can't make a good movie about a 1930s composer using a 1970s film conceit while hiring 21st century recording artists to perform Porter's classic songs.

[it] plays like a cabaret review rather than a motion picture, a sublime collection of songs linked by scripted banter barely scratching the surface of its subject.