The dreaded International Production. They always feel like limbs of different creatures sewn on a lumpen trunk.
Speaking of limbs: It’s rare the credits are unintentionally amusing, but that’s the case here. Presenting Harry Arme, McGuffin-adjustor.
You suspect it’s a French movie retrofitted for the Yank market when the first four minutes consist of a narrator with no dialogue, followed by stock footage of the Normandy invasion. Then Glenn Ford, perhaps inserted into a preexisting movie? Well, he encounters an evil German who’s stolen the Green Glove. It’s a medieval relic item with many jewels; like 87% of all rare art objects used in post-war films, it disappeared during ze war.
Flash forward: Ford has returned to France after the war to find it. He gets mixed up with a dame:
Geraldine Brooks; we'll get back to her a second. There's a preening French detective, known perhaps as Jacques Palance:
I’m not saying it doesn’t have action. Brother, does it ever! This makes me laugh every time I see it:
You can watch that over and over, can’t you?
It ends in a test of wills between Ford and George MacCready, an actor with whom he’d starred in the twisted noir “Gilda” six years before. Think “The 39 Steps” crossed with “The Maltese Falcon,” then think “Maybe I should watch either of those instead of this one.” Like “39,” it has a man on the lam with a woman he just met; like “39” they have to put up for the night in a small-town hotel, pretending to be newlyweds. It’s well-paced, but you could say that about a man who decided to walk backwards across North Dakota. Doesn’t mean anything interesting happens.
Glenn Ford, as ever, reminds me of my father. Geraldine Brooks is cute - which leads me to this clip. I zoomed in on her face, because this is the sort of stuff I don’t think you can teach an actress. She either has it, or she doesn’t.