Tell the truth: How long has it been since you’ve thought about Bob Hope? To the extent that anyone has a historical memory as we careen through the 21st century, thoughts of the ski-nosed comedian will likely have been few and far between. 

Hope’s reputation still carried some resonance at the time of his death at age 100 in 2003. Upon the 2016 publication of Richard Zoglin’s magisterial biography “Hope,” his long-standing fame was dimly registered by the general public. In 2024, his influence on culture is negligible. Celebrity: It’s everything until it’s not.

Long before reformed shock jock Howard Stern dubbed himself the King of All Media, the title belonged to Hope. The British-born Lesley Townes Hope sang, danced, and cracked wise in vaudeville, Broadway, radio, film, television, and, through the auspices of the United Services Organizations, military locations throughout the world. 

Mr. Zoglin’s book uncovers a man who was, as the kids say nowadays, problematic. Still, Hope placed his renown in the service of causes that courted controversy: the saving of European Jewry during World War II being one; AIDS research in the 1980s, another.

Most readers likely remember Hope during the last decades of his life, when he had atrophied into an elder statesman increasingly at sea in a rapidly kaleidoscoping world. He was booed off the stage in Vietnam — a rattling experience for the patriotic Hope, from all reports — and his topical brand of comedy became increasingly vapid. 

The redoubtable Christopher Hitchens, writing in the wake of Hope’s passing, dismissed him as “paralyzingly, painfully, hopelessly unfunny.” Hitchens’s acidic encomium wasn’t altogether off-base, particularly when considering Hope’s television work, but it is not the whole of the entertainer.

Kino Lorber will be releasing a Blu-ray edition of Norman Z. McLeod’s “My Favorite Spy” (1951), a follow-up to two previous Hope vehicles, “My Favorite Blonde” (1942) and “My Favorite Brunette” (1947). Comedy was McLeod’s specialty, and he is likely best remembered for helming signature comedies featuring W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers, as well as “Topper” (1937), a film that did much to boost Cary Grant’s marquee credibility. 

McLeod had worked with Hope previously on “The Paleface” (1948) and “Road to Rio” (1947). Given the assurance with which Hope animates the screen in “My Favorite Spy,” it doesn’t seem a stretch to assume that the erstwhile comic found a simpatico collaborator in McLeod. Notwithstanding a pro forma ending chase, the picture is nimble in its pacing, loose-limbed, and generous in spirit. It’s a likable second-tier comedy.

The story is a variation on mistaken identity, in which our protagonist, burlesque comedian “Peanuts” White (Hope), bears an uncanny resemblance to international spy and ladies’ man Eric Augustine. Among the ladies Augustine has encountered in his adventures is the wily Lily Dalbray (Hedy Lamarr sporting an elusive foreign cadence). U.S. intelligence enlists Peanuts to go undercover as Augustine and travel to Tangiers. His mission? To retrieve spools of microfiche containing top-secret information of one sort or another.

One set piece leads to another and Hope proves his mettle by reeling off one-liners, cowering and bumbling, ogling Lamarr, assuming airs, and otherwise mugging to engaging effect. He’s a well-oiled cog adding spritz and speed to a sturdy Hollywood contrivance. Lamarr seems out of her element, but the supporting cast is a picturesque run of roughnecks, goons, and criminal masterminds. 

There are better films from which to gain appreciation for Hope’s sleekly tuned gift, but “My Favorite Spy” is fun all the same.