The great Ben Hecht ’s sentimental streak was as wide as his fabled cynical one, but far less convincing. Even so, this load of mush about a Plain-Jane gal who blooms during a whirlwind WWII NYC courtship is well-produced (Russell Metty lensed & Franz Waxman scored) and smarter than you expect these things to be. Though director Rudolph Mate, working @ Warners, doesn’t have the stylistic chops Douglas Sirk was brandishing over at Universal serving up similar fare. And if the big climactic miracle fails to produce the intended tearful epiphany, you certainly can’t blame Jane Wyman (in her final star lead) or Eileen Heckart in her debut year, they are extraordinary together. Don’t miss Fred Clark ’s sleazy pass at a grief-stricken Wyman. You’ll want to wash your hands after that one.
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