Just as in the spring a housewife's thoughts turn to mothballs, so an old soldier's, with the start of each new war, turn to sentimental memories of his earlier soldiering days. Robert E. Sherwood's Waterloo Bridge brings back to mind those romantic war pictures of the late twenties, employing the same old tricks--the chance meeting in the air raid shelter, the sudden recall to the front, and the false report of the hero's death.
In spite of such a script and a Robert Taylor who strides woodenly about the screen with an officer's hat and a swagger stick, Miss Vivien Leigh almost succeeds in making the story a credible one. As the ill-fated little ballet dancer who could do entrechat six (Nijinski could do ten), she dominates each scene with an almost flawless performance. Every half smile, every sidelong glance, every toss of her head, every movement of her hands makes the supporting cast sink further and further into a vague, formless background. But as for you, Mr. Goldwyn, by decking out Bob T. in that new trick mustache, you've shattered one of our fondest illusions.
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DOWN MEXICO WAY
