There are no bodies, mysterious train rides, or psycho-analysists in this latest slick Hitchcock production. The theme of this one is love, with some international intrigue and atmospheric photography thrown in for ballast.

Ingrid Bergman loves Cary Grant, while Cary loves Ingrid but won't or can't admit in for 90 minutes. Ingrid, the not too innocent daughter of a convincted American traitor decides to become a U. S. agent in Rio because she goes for the Grant version of the strong, silent type. In time one thing leads to another, and sandwiched in among poisoned cups of coffee and champagne bottles loaded with uranium ore is a five minute amatory session that can best be described as sheer vicarious delight.

This scene breaks no Johnson office taboos, and Ingrid remain an "honest woman," but John Q. Public, for the first time in film history, can watch a screen and say to himself--"that's the way I make love"--for here is love-making that is real without over becoming salacious or injurious to minors or citizens of greater Boston.

Claude Rains, Louis Calhern, and Madame Konstantin, the other half of the cast, concern themselves chiefly with the more sinster sides of the story, and are quite creditable; but this one is recommended chierly as a love story, and 90 minutes of Bergman and Grant with Hitchcock and author Ben Heet providing the inspiration would have been more than sufficient.