From Hollywood's multitudinous attempts at originality, "Here Comes Mr. Jordan" stands out as one of the few pictures that actually is more than a stodgy re-hash of the staple boy-meets-girl situation. Fairly reeking with novelty, "H.C.M.J." whistles along with never a dull moment.

The story is about a prize fighter who has to finish out his three score and ten in sundry other men's bodies after being prematurely brought to Heaven by somewhat befuddled Messenger 7013. Robert Montgomery, playing the dispossessed soul in the market for a body he can call his own, once more displays amazing versatility. Uproariously funny scenes are provided by the minor characters, especially blundering, vulture-visaged Edward Everett' Horton and James Gleason, who does one of the funniest pantomime jobs since Charlie Chaplin hung up the baggy pants and Hitler mustache. Claude Rains, as Mr. Jordan (the Angel Gabriel in a streamline edition) gives one of the subtlest characterizations of recent screen history.

There is, of course, a moral to the tale--the old adage that love is more than skin deep and that a few dermal alterations won't make the course of true affection change. You may have dropped this notion the same year you recognized poppa's schnozzle above Santa's whiskers, but "Here Comes Mr. Jordan" will make even the most case-hardened cynic wish he believed it true.

"Blondie in Society" is just one more in the series, tolerable enough for those gentlemen who prefer Blondie. The main feature, though, even if you finesse Blondie, gives you your money's worth of mirth.