Ayn Rand is co-credited on the script for this film, which “introduces a new screen discovery”, Lizabeth Scott. She was a discovery of Hal Wallis’, for whom this was an early independent production at Paramount, but top billing goes to Robert Cummings. He’s relaxed, charming and professional as ever but he always seemed to lack that extra bit of gravitas to make him a really top star (he was always best in support of another star). That is something particularly noticeable here, because he doesn’t have a star to play against (Scott was too new and is miscast – see below). Having said that Cummings is good in the dramatic scenes – he has a great moment towards the end where he walks along a corridor on the way to the doctors to get what he is pretty sure will be bad news; he whistles, tries to hide his fear – it’s terrific.
He plays one of three air force buddies who go on a war bond promoting tour. Scott plays their guide, and there are too many jokes about people assuming she’s a man. Scott isn’t very good. She had a unique quality on scene and was particularly effective in film noir but her role might have been better played by someone with more warmth and humour. The latter bit isn’t Scott’s fault – the script isn’t very funny, even when it’s trying to be (eg a tiresome scene where everyone pretends to be English near a drunk) – was this the influence of Ayn Rand, a woman not known for her comedy? That’s not a mortal flaw because actually this is a tearjerker – half way though we find out Cummings has a fatal illness. So, like Love Story (the 1944 Gainsborough film that is) there’s lots of talk about living for tomorrow – but the film has one hand tied behind it’s back because the illness is alluded to and ignored more than confronted. And we miss out on a death scene. (It’s almost British in it’s reticent treatment of terminal illness. If you want more of a tearjerker I’d recommend another film about a sick soldier, The Hasty Heart.)
There’s lots of bromance between the three guys and love for the air force. In one scene they go visit a chapel with links to fliers (eg Amelia Earhart once visited). There’s a wall with signatures from famous fliers on wings, including Hap Arnold, Jimmy Doolittle… and Charles Kingsford-Smith. I wonder if this was a touch from Aussie-born director John Farrow (the mention of St Francis of Assissi, saint of birds, surely was). Farrow does a very good job, incidentally -it's all handled with warmth and conviction, the camaraderie of Cummings and his friends comes across strongly.
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