Tyrone Power is completely deprived of all his Hollywood attributes here, he is shabby and unshaved like a bum, his good looks are purposely disposed of and as much altered as possible to the contrary, his character is doubtful, while Joan Fontaine outshines him all the way and constantly more and more, which makes it impossible not to burst out into tears when she does.
It's a chapter out of the most critical point of the war after Dunkirk at the beginning of the long nightmare blitz of London, and all the bombing scenes couldn't have been made more real and convincing. Tyrone is a veteran from Dunkirk, almost decorated, bitterly disillusioned about the war and its glory and finds no meaning in any aspect of the struggle, while Joan in bursts of impressing honesty gives him second thoughts. But there is much more to it than their epitomized romance.
Perhaps the most important ingredient is the other characters. Thomas Mitchell actually saves the show, Alexander Knox is the only one who immediately and thoroughly understands Tyrone's predicament of conscience, Gladys Cooper is gloriously superior as always, Nigel Bruce adds some vital Dickensian comedy, Philip Merivale as the doctor is another vital contribution, and there are others, some not even mentioned. On the whole, it's a perfect masterpiece of film pinpointing the very eye of the storm of the second world war.
