The movie opens with a fully orchestrated epic march suggesting flags and a parade of glittering bayonets. The credits seem to be stamped on iron plaques. The narrator is a Reed Hadley clone who intones staggering facts about the resources and efficiency of the Secret Service. "The Secret Service Building in Washington houses ten million daltons of nanosieverts and contains twelve thousand long tonnes of files and fingerprints." If you've seen any of the popular semi-documentaries of the immediate post-war period, like "The House on 92nd Street," it will all be familiar to you.
But -- that's not what it's about. The Intro is a fake. "All false pretenses, like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any counterfeit last long." It's not about the staunch servants of the public weal at the Secret Service after all. It's about Burt Lancaster's pursuit of shabby old Edmond Gwen who runs off a couple of dozen one-dollar bills on the hand-cranked machine in his basement whenever an emergency arises.
Gwen is so lovable, so huggable, so generous, that sometimes he slips one of his crummy old bills -- Washington is spelled Wahsington -- into the purse of his friend, the sophisticated Dorothy McGuire, and it's through her that Lancaster finds out what's going on. And the movie become a pleasant little romance with some cockle-warming humor thrown in.
The setting is New York City. I was surprised to learn that their office is located at 90 Church Street because that's where I enlisted. The photography has been influenced by the noir style and it doesn't quite fit. Night-time streets are slick, wet, empty. Shadows are stark. Old paintings in rococco frames hang from the walls. Gwen lives in a basement apartment that looks like an episode of The Hoarders, filled with ancient and spooky junk.
The imagery doesn't always mesh well with the narrative, but the director has added some nifty comic touches. There is, for instance, a silent scene, watched through a store-front window, in which Lancaster's pal pretends to hit on McGuire, so that Lancaster can come to the rescue and find out how she came to pass one of Gwen's phony bills. It's a perfectly performed two-minute silent movie.
It's a reasonably pleasant way to while away an hour or two. The romance is perfunctory and doesn't get in the way of the plot too much. And most of the gooey sentimentality is left for the last fifteen minutes, when we hear "Auld Lang Syne" on the sound track.
Let me put it this way: If you liked "Miracle on 34th Street," you'll like this because the similarities, taken together, stand out like a gastropod on its poduncle.
But -- that's not what it's about. The Intro is a fake. "All false pretenses, like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any counterfeit last long." It's not about the staunch servants of the public weal at the Secret Service after all. It's about Burt Lancaster's pursuit of shabby old Edmond Gwen who runs off a couple of dozen one-dollar bills on the hand-cranked machine in his basement whenever an emergency arises.
Gwen is so lovable, so huggable, so generous, that sometimes he slips one of his crummy old bills -- Washington is spelled Wahsington -- into the purse of his friend, the sophisticated Dorothy McGuire, and it's through her that Lancaster finds out what's going on. And the movie become a pleasant little romance with some cockle-warming humor thrown in.
The setting is New York City. I was surprised to learn that their office is located at 90 Church Street because that's where I enlisted. The photography has been influenced by the noir style and it doesn't quite fit. Night-time streets are slick, wet, empty. Shadows are stark. Old paintings in rococco frames hang from the walls. Gwen lives in a basement apartment that looks like an episode of The Hoarders, filled with ancient and spooky junk.
The imagery doesn't always mesh well with the narrative, but the director has added some nifty comic touches. There is, for instance, a silent scene, watched through a store-front window, in which Lancaster's pal pretends to hit on McGuire, so that Lancaster can come to the rescue and find out how she came to pass one of Gwen's phony bills. It's a perfectly performed two-minute silent movie.
It's a reasonably pleasant way to while away an hour or two. The romance is perfunctory and doesn't get in the way of the plot too much. And most of the gooey sentimentality is left for the last fifteen minutes, when we hear "Auld Lang Syne" on the sound track.
Let me put it this way: If you liked "Miracle on 34th Street," you'll like this because the similarities, taken together, stand out like a gastropod on its poduncle.