Whilst on assignment in a very 1950s-looking WW2 London, a plastic-haired US ace-journo' (Turner) and an impossibly baby-faced Cornish ace-journo' (Connery) are lost in the throws of a torrid affair, despite the disapproval of colleagues (stiff-upper-lip Longdon, laconic James). However, even as declarations of undying love are uttered, dark clouds loom in the form of Turner's newspaper boss and erstwhile lover Sullivan, and Connery's shock disclosure that he has a wife and child tucked away in his native Cornish village. When Connery is killed in a plane crash, a devastated Turner makes a pilgrimage to his native Cornwall where her path crosses that of his wife and child...
Risible weepy, serving as a star vehicle for Lana and an early showcase for the handsome young Connery, both of whom fail miserably to convince. Turner seems to possess only three facial expressions, even when trying to stay upright in her stilettos as she totters round 'St. Giles' (actually Polperro) - witness her horribly 2-D efforts to comfort Martin Stephens after his nightmare. Meanwhile Connery's description of his Cornish fishing village birthplace is delivered in such a rich Edinburgh brogue as to be quite giggle-some.
So often the case with British cinema of the 40s and 50s, it's the support players who steal the show - Glynis Johns' is a beautifully judged and modulated depiction of a woman recovering from grief. Her resolute kindness, generosity and warmth make her reaction to the final reel revelations all the more believable. Sid James shines as a world-weary American journalist trying to juggle loyalties, and Stephens' post-nightmare scene is desperately convincing.
Sadly however, excellent support playing, and beautiful location shooting are just not enough to save this overwrought turkey.
