A blonde Dana Wynter (chilly & charmless, like a proto-‘Tippi’ Hedren) plays a German WWII survivor who finds a post-war friend in Mel Ferrer’s U.S. Army Major, once a POW escapee she reluctantly helped. Between these two meetings, she’s done what was necessary to get by: consorting with Theodore Bikel’s Russian occupying officer (much vodka tossed in potted plant); signing up for a brothel run by old friends (all unawares); working a dunk-tank at a naughty nightspot (she said she could swim); discovering her pre-war fiancé, now a one-armed shell of a man, no longer wants her (only the valuable ring he gave her). No wonder she’s such a drag. But as the plot requires everyone to take an immediate shine, the hangdog personalty, justified or not, keeps stopping things cold. With flat staging from Henry Koster (a charming director of light vehicles in the ‘30s, turned inert CinemaScope non-interventionist); Leo Tover’s equally flat lensing (studio mock-up Berlin for post–war devastation/backscreen projection for Rhine river sightseeing); and no chemistry between dour Wynter & gaunt Ferrer; the film would be a dead loss if not for Dolores Michaels as Dana’s soused & sassy piano playing pal. (Note the paperback cover which promises more than just a missing umlaut.)
ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: James Edwards gets showcase treatment as a sympathetic black US Military officer who twice crosses paths with Wynter. A nice touch for the time, but unlikely since the army only began full integration in ‘48 while events here presumably occur in 1946 or ‘47.
WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: To see Wynter in better form, try two years before with INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS/’56 or two years after in SINK THE BISMARCK/’60. (She’s a brunette in both.)
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