There's a powerful scene in this movie, when a cynical, thoughtless elder tells a young child that there is no Santa Claus. It could come from Truffaut's The 400 Blows. It's a memorable moment in an otherwise forgettable movie, in which Dean Stockwell, one of the great child actors, is replaced by the annoyingly mealy-mouthed Tom Drake, who, when everybody else wears his straw hat straight, has his pushed way back, like he did in Meet Me in St. Louis, as if that bland face can't project beyond the brim. He's even paired with a romantic interest that's as unappealing as he is. Aside from the Falstaffian Charles Coburn, a fine cast, including Hume Cronyn, Jessica Tandy, Gladys Cooper and Norman Lloyd, are wasted on characters they make interesting but aren't allowed to develop. A.J. Cronin wrote human interest novels made into fine movies, like The Citadel, the Stars Look Down and Keys to the Kingdom. Contrast them with this. After Stockwell, don't waste your time.
Review of The Green Years
