The essence of film fare is obviously to entertain. This one doesn't. It can't, when the fundamentals are as meretricious as unwind in these hokey 96 minutes.
The essence of film fare is obviously to entertain. This one doesn’t. It can’t, when the fundamentals are as meretricious as unwind in these hokey 96 minutes.
Fundamentally the story is a topical misfit. It opens with ultra-modern young Abie Levy meeting USO-Camp Shows entertainer Rosemary Murphy in a V-E Day London mixup, resulting in their marriage by an army chaplain (incidentally Protestant, so as to get in all the three faiths, which didn’t exist in the original play by Anne Nichols).
Papa Levy is patently a prosperous Bronx department store owner; his place of business, his household and his friends bespeak prosperity. But thereafter this premise falls apart for he has the prejudices of a pushcart peddler, and barrister Isaac Cohen (George E. Stone) and Mrs Levy (Vera Gordon who, somehow, manages a slightly more restrained characterization) are depicted as narrowminded nitwits.