It's an efficiently staged story of Spencer Tracy and his girl friend Irene Dunne in the US Air Force in World War II. They're deeply in love. When Tracy dies a heroic death, he's sent to the Command Post in heaven and given the assignment below of shepherding young pilot Van Johnson through his training and subsequent combat in New Guinea. Irene Dunne shows up and Johnson begins courting her, much to Tracy's disgust. He ultimately gives up the power he seems to have over her and she and Van Johnson are married.
The film is worth a couple of observations. One is that performers rarely get the credit they deserve for delivering the goods in comedies or, until recently, in Westerns -- with the exception of some silent comedians. Spencer Tracy's role here is mostly comic, yet it's one of his finest performances. Every line, even the corniest, seems to come directly from his character. He boasts, he sneers, he insults, he woos clumsily. He lifts the picture well above the ordinary. He gets extra credit for his skill because he doesn't LOOK at all interesting -- not handsome, not compellingly homely, just plain plain. And he doesn't have the extra juice that ethnicity or a regional dialect would give him. He looks and sounds like what he was, an ordinary guy from a small town in Wisconsin. Turning that ordinariness into a winning trait requires a certain mastery of one's art.
I'll mention just one scene. Watch him just after his death. The viewer sees a vast, empty space with a few clouds in the background. The floor is covered by a foot of ground fog. (Production design by Cedric Gibbons.) Still in uniform, Tracy appears, strolling casually but purposefully towards the camera, as if he had someplace to go. His hands are in his pockets and he's whistling a pop tune. Then he spots the figure of an old friend, Barry Nelson, in the distance, dashes over to him and gives him a big hug and handshake. Boy, is he happy to meet Nelson again! Tracy expansively begins to tell him of his latest exploit in the air and after a minute or so, pauses, gives a quick glance around, and then continues bragging as before. In the middle of a sentence, he stops, looks puzzled, and says, "Somethin's cockeyed here. I saw your plane go down in flames over Brest. How'd you get out?" "I didn't," replies Nelson. The scene is utterly stupid but Tracy and his gradually growing awareness of his surroundings makes it hilarious.
The second observation is that this was released in 1943, meaning it was probably written and shot in 1942. Well, this is a story about a loved one who was killed in the war, and how much we need to put our sorrow behind us and move on with our lives. And 1942 was a very bad year when it came to the good folks at home losing loved ones overseas, and the men and women overseas losing their best friends in combat. In a sense, this is a sort of documentary, a training film for civilians on how to handle the memory of people who were killed in action. Irene Dunne will never forget Tracy but, after a bit of rough handling by Tracy's friend, Ward Bond, she marries Johnson anyway. And if there are ghosts, they will understand and forgive us. They'd want us to get on with our lives.
The film is worth a couple of observations. One is that performers rarely get the credit they deserve for delivering the goods in comedies or, until recently, in Westerns -- with the exception of some silent comedians. Spencer Tracy's role here is mostly comic, yet it's one of his finest performances. Every line, even the corniest, seems to come directly from his character. He boasts, he sneers, he insults, he woos clumsily. He lifts the picture well above the ordinary. He gets extra credit for his skill because he doesn't LOOK at all interesting -- not handsome, not compellingly homely, just plain plain. And he doesn't have the extra juice that ethnicity or a regional dialect would give him. He looks and sounds like what he was, an ordinary guy from a small town in Wisconsin. Turning that ordinariness into a winning trait requires a certain mastery of one's art.
I'll mention just one scene. Watch him just after his death. The viewer sees a vast, empty space with a few clouds in the background. The floor is covered by a foot of ground fog. (Production design by Cedric Gibbons.) Still in uniform, Tracy appears, strolling casually but purposefully towards the camera, as if he had someplace to go. His hands are in his pockets and he's whistling a pop tune. Then he spots the figure of an old friend, Barry Nelson, in the distance, dashes over to him and gives him a big hug and handshake. Boy, is he happy to meet Nelson again! Tracy expansively begins to tell him of his latest exploit in the air and after a minute or so, pauses, gives a quick glance around, and then continues bragging as before. In the middle of a sentence, he stops, looks puzzled, and says, "Somethin's cockeyed here. I saw your plane go down in flames over Brest. How'd you get out?" "I didn't," replies Nelson. The scene is utterly stupid but Tracy and his gradually growing awareness of his surroundings makes it hilarious.
The second observation is that this was released in 1943, meaning it was probably written and shot in 1942. Well, this is a story about a loved one who was killed in the war, and how much we need to put our sorrow behind us and move on with our lives. And 1942 was a very bad year when it came to the good folks at home losing loved ones overseas, and the men and women overseas losing their best friends in combat. In a sense, this is a sort of documentary, a training film for civilians on how to handle the memory of people who were killed in action. Irene Dunne will never forget Tracy but, after a bit of rough handling by Tracy's friend, Ward Bond, she marries Johnson anyway. And if there are ghosts, they will understand and forgive us. They'd want us to get on with our lives.