This is one of a spate of movies about returning veterans made during the war or post-war years. They include, most notably, "The Best Years of Our Lives," as well as "The Men" and, to a lesser extent, "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo" and "Pride of the Marines." This one, like "Pride of the Marines," deals with men who have been blinded in the war. "Pride of the Marines" is the better film because its narrative structure gives us a clear idea of the life and the woman that Al Schmidt left behind in Philadelphia. It also includes twenty minutes of the most harrowing combat scenes I've ever seen in the movies, and done on the Warner's lot.
This one isn't badly done. The medical judgment on Arthur Kennedy's blindness leaves no room for miraculous recovery, and the mechanics of learning to get about without being sighted are interestingly described. The movie has an engaging and relevant sub-story. In the Army hospital, Kennedy's best friend, James Woods, is also blind, and it isn't until later in their bond that Kennedy discovers that he's an African-American, just after Kennedy uses the N word. It's a painful moment. And it's better than it might have been because Kennedy doesn't drop to his knees at once and beg forgiveness. Instead, he sulks because, "He should have let me know what he was at the beginning." Later, as Kennedy's character evolves, he's irritated by his mother's complaining about what the war did to "our Nigras." Kennedy snaps, "I know what it did to one of them." Again, the exchange isn't handled with emphasis but with some thought. No zooming close up of Kennedy's face as he says the line. It's just another piece in the conversation but it tells us a great deal about Kennedy and the changes he's undergoing.
Although Kennedy is no Marlon Brando, he's pretty good in the role of the wounded veteran. Never a bravura performer, he was an exceptionally versatile supporting player -- ranging from man of principle to treacherous Western villain. Nobody ever WHINED so convincingly as Arthur Kennedy. The rest of the cast is convincing enough, and Will Geer as Kennedy's father stands out.
The direction is by Mark Robson, who did the subtle and ambiguous "The Seventh Victim" for Val Lewton at RKO, after which his work tended towards the routine. His direction here can be described as functional. He gets the story told without bringing much to the party. Example: There's a scene in which Kennedy is welcomed back to his home town in Florida by neighbors who are happy to see him back but unprepared to deal with a blind man. Their excess of sympathy becomes clumsy and abrasive. But Robson keeps the camera more or less in the same obvious place; the scene itself is flatly lighted with a high key light; and the sense of stasis leaps out at the viewer despite the drama being played out on the screen.
This one isn't badly done. The medical judgment on Arthur Kennedy's blindness leaves no room for miraculous recovery, and the mechanics of learning to get about without being sighted are interestingly described. The movie has an engaging and relevant sub-story. In the Army hospital, Kennedy's best friend, James Woods, is also blind, and it isn't until later in their bond that Kennedy discovers that he's an African-American, just after Kennedy uses the N word. It's a painful moment. And it's better than it might have been because Kennedy doesn't drop to his knees at once and beg forgiveness. Instead, he sulks because, "He should have let me know what he was at the beginning." Later, as Kennedy's character evolves, he's irritated by his mother's complaining about what the war did to "our Nigras." Kennedy snaps, "I know what it did to one of them." Again, the exchange isn't handled with emphasis but with some thought. No zooming close up of Kennedy's face as he says the line. It's just another piece in the conversation but it tells us a great deal about Kennedy and the changes he's undergoing.
Although Kennedy is no Marlon Brando, he's pretty good in the role of the wounded veteran. Never a bravura performer, he was an exceptionally versatile supporting player -- ranging from man of principle to treacherous Western villain. Nobody ever WHINED so convincingly as Arthur Kennedy. The rest of the cast is convincing enough, and Will Geer as Kennedy's father stands out.
The direction is by Mark Robson, who did the subtle and ambiguous "The Seventh Victim" for Val Lewton at RKO, after which his work tended towards the routine. His direction here can be described as functional. He gets the story told without bringing much to the party. Example: There's a scene in which Kennedy is welcomed back to his home town in Florida by neighbors who are happy to see him back but unprepared to deal with a blind man. Their excess of sympathy becomes clumsy and abrasive. But Robson keeps the camera more or less in the same obvious place; the scene itself is flatly lighted with a high key light; and the sense of stasis leaps out at the viewer despite the drama being played out on the screen.