Millionaire loner Edward (Richard Gere) hires charismatic sex worker Vivian (Julia Roberts) in this 1990 rom-com they should have called My Fare Lady.

Pretty Woman is a lot more charming than a movie about a man paying to keep a woman in a hotel room sounds like it would be, thanks to well-drawn characters, classy production and a script as sharp as an Italian suit. These old-school qualities make the film more classic screwball comedy than male rescue fantasy, where the relationship tension only works because the characters are on an equal footing dramatically, if not economically. Where 50 Shades of Grey tries to make a power imbalance sexy, here it is the erosion of that dynamic that makes the film romantic.

The film never passes judgement on Vivian’s profession (and the characters that do are villains), while making it clear that Edward’s more respectable career as a corporate raider is actually worthy of disdain. And though he tellingly spends much of the movie treating Vivian like some sort of rich guy accessory, his kindness is never really in doubt, so you understand her non-financial attraction. Roberts is sensational in the role, again bringing the energy of a classic Hollywood leading lady, her glowing personality never overshadowed by her impressive outfits.

It is largely a love letter to capitalism, romanticising the materialistic ’80s lifestyle promised to those prepared to get off the streets and take it. It’s also not particularly comedic, and takes a nasty tonal lurch when George from Seinfeld assaults Vivian, just so Edward can save her in retro fashion. And while always easy on the eye (one scene invokes Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks), the story drags over two hours, not least because you know exactly where it is going. But it is the chemistry between the couple that ensures you buy what Pretty Woman is selling.