Ethel Barrymore has returned to the screen after an absence or more than a decade. With the able assistance of Barry Fitzgerald and June Duprez she nearly overcomes the falseness of a remarkably miscast Cary Grant, lending quiet grandeur to a somewhat question able motion picture.

Richard Llewellyn's novel told the sordid story of frustration and poverty in the slums of London, and hit the reader with the message that something must be done. In adapting the novel for Hollywood, Clifford Odets has purposefully subdued the sociology, and it is doubtful whether anyone, including Mr. Odets, actually knows what "None but the Lonely Heart" now means.

The plot is hackneyed and almost traditional: Poor boy wants to see Mother living more comfortably, sinks into life of crime to achieve his end. There is a certain degree of force in Grant's portrayed of Ernle Mott if you region him a figure symbolic of all the underprivileged, an embattled young man of his century moved by vast influences he can understand only in terms of privation. Unfortunately, it is too much a matter of imagination. "None but the Lonely Heart" gives an overwhelming impression of confusion.

Nevertheless, while this confusion leaves you with a garbled ideas of what you have seen, it is the very element which gives the picture whatever dramatic value it possesses. Steady continuity of over-tenseness cannot help but often attain startling emotional peaks.

Miss Barrymore as Ernle's mother can make you laugh or cry with expressive eyes that are not appreciated on the stage. Barry Fitzgerald in the role of a kindly old busybody delivers his usual charming performance. June Dupres is a deeply touching heroine.

It seems unfortunate that the good features of "None but the Lonely Heart" were not blended with a little more cinematic finesse. There are moments of poignancy and impact, but they are too few and they are a part of a production that is more often artificial and totally devoid of conviction. ssh