Elizabeth Janeway's novel becomes depressive soap in the usually-capable hands of director Otto Preminger. Had Preminger not also served as the film's producer, I might think this melodrama may have been foisted upon him as an obligation (it certainly doesn't seem like material he'd be attracted to). New York artist Joan Crawford, living in a rather elaborate 'hovel', marries ex-soldier and widower Henry Fonda as a response to lover Dana Andrews constantly putting his wife, children, and business before her. It is apparent that Andrews and Crawford are having a sexual relationship, yet Joan doesn't act like a fallen woman; she strides about during an argument, cleaning up her apartment defensively until Dana takes her in his arms (where she melts, like a pushover). Fonda and Crawford do seem like the better match (he calls her "Deezy" and she calls him "Peetah"), but the circles these stuck-in-a-rut characters go around in quickly become tiresome. Preminger doesn't have many surprises in store for us (except Andrews' scorned wife, who takes her frustrations out on her youngest daughter), although Andrews' penchant for using terms of endearment towards both women and men is amusing and the design here is tidy and attractive. ** from ****