Last night, after much ado in the Boston papers, "Lassie Come Home" arrived at the Loew's State and Orpheum theatres. Surprising as it may seem after reading the rather insipid advertisements, the picture is one of the finest to come out of MGM in recent years. It ranks, as the ads have said, with "Random Harvest" and "Mrs. Miniver." But, instead of the case being "great books make great pictures," it is a situation where the acting of a collie has made an overly-sentimental book into a really touching picture.

The faults to be found in the picture are few and far between. The situation under which Lassie is sold is a bit over-used, and parts of the show are saccharine sweet. But, to counterbalance that, there are some excellent characterizations. Edmund Gwenn has done a fine performance as the proprietor of a traveling show and shop. Donald Crisp is conventional but natural as the father, Elsa Lanchester quite good as the mother, but Nigel Bruce a bit under par as the Lord of the Manor and purchaser of Lassie.

Roddy MacDowell is a good kid who tries like blazes to act--and does get away with it--though the legion of child-actor-haters will find much to carp about; but Lassie makes the picture. The dog is just a natural trouper, that's all.

The plot is the simple story of how Lassie comes home from Scotland, after the usual rigamarole of child-separated-from-dog-because-father-needs-money. The ending, of course, is happy, and, under less capable management, the whole works might have gone to pot. This time, however, it comes over. That is, if you've ever owned a dog.