It is the middle of World War II and American towns are gripped by patriotic fervor. In Preston Sturgis's "The Miracle of Morgan's Creek," which appeared the same year as this, Betty Hutton was what was called "a Victory girl" who gave a departing serviceman a good-bye present that left unanticipated consequences. In Sturgis's "Hail the Conquering Hero," small-town nobody Eddie Bracken is quickly discharged from the U. S. Marine Corps because he has hay fever. Ashamed to go home, he gets a job in the city and writes letter to his Mom bragging about the battles he's been in. After all, Mom has already lost family members in combat and doesn't need a disappointment.
Finally he decides to visit home. He buys a uniform and campaign ribbons to make his epistolary lies more believable. But on the train he runs into half a dozen tough Marines who have been on Guadalcanal. They're led by William Demarest. Taking pity of Bracken's mother, they get him in shape and escort him to his house.
He's unexpectedly welcomed as a brave warrior. Bands play, crowds cheer, his beautiful girl friend (Ella Raines) begins to glow with a renewed admiration. His mother sobs with relief and pride. The townsmen plan to put up a statue. A parade marches down the street.
Bracken is overwhelmed, having thought he'd slip in and out, but his Marine buddies prop him up and tell Homeric tales of his bravery. The town pays off his mother's mortgage and supports him for Mayor against a hilarious and corrupt blow hard. Some of the funniest moments involve Al Bridge trying to make a public statement or dictate a letter and being constantly interrupted.
Frank Capra made a number of movies in a similar vein -- the gullibility of the public when faced with a phony or with big-time crookedness -- but there was always a sentimental climax in which honesty was finally rewarded. Honesty is rewarded here, too, but in a rough-house, grab-ass, ironic way. Nobody will weep when Woodrow Lafayette Pershing Truesmith makes his confession.
Eddie Bracken is good at this sort of thing -- stuttering, shaking with fear, being shoved around by a horde of admirers, tearing his hair out with shame. Ella Raines is so conventionally beautiful that she's reason enough to stay home. The Marines are up to snuff. In fact, one of the more moving moments is when Bracken has developed a scheme to wiggle out of town and desert his adoring mother. One of the men loses his temper, Bracken hysterically socks him, and the Marine wipes his mouth and says contemptuously, "Go hurt a girl. That's all you're good for." The fact that the Marine can't act makes the scene more touching.
The director came and went through Hollywood like a rocket. His career last for some years but he never equaled his output over a brief period in the early forties. Too bad. This is pretty good.
Finally he decides to visit home. He buys a uniform and campaign ribbons to make his epistolary lies more believable. But on the train he runs into half a dozen tough Marines who have been on Guadalcanal. They're led by William Demarest. Taking pity of Bracken's mother, they get him in shape and escort him to his house.
He's unexpectedly welcomed as a brave warrior. Bands play, crowds cheer, his beautiful girl friend (Ella Raines) begins to glow with a renewed admiration. His mother sobs with relief and pride. The townsmen plan to put up a statue. A parade marches down the street.
Bracken is overwhelmed, having thought he'd slip in and out, but his Marine buddies prop him up and tell Homeric tales of his bravery. The town pays off his mother's mortgage and supports him for Mayor against a hilarious and corrupt blow hard. Some of the funniest moments involve Al Bridge trying to make a public statement or dictate a letter and being constantly interrupted.
Frank Capra made a number of movies in a similar vein -- the gullibility of the public when faced with a phony or with big-time crookedness -- but there was always a sentimental climax in which honesty was finally rewarded. Honesty is rewarded here, too, but in a rough-house, grab-ass, ironic way. Nobody will weep when Woodrow Lafayette Pershing Truesmith makes his confession.
Eddie Bracken is good at this sort of thing -- stuttering, shaking with fear, being shoved around by a horde of admirers, tearing his hair out with shame. Ella Raines is so conventionally beautiful that she's reason enough to stay home. The Marines are up to snuff. In fact, one of the more moving moments is when Bracken has developed a scheme to wiggle out of town and desert his adoring mother. One of the men loses his temper, Bracken hysterically socks him, and the Marine wipes his mouth and says contemptuously, "Go hurt a girl. That's all you're good for." The fact that the Marine can't act makes the scene more touching.
The director came and went through Hollywood like a rocket. His career last for some years but he never equaled his output over a brief period in the early forties. Too bad. This is pretty good.