Barbara Stanwyck plays more than one role here, and I don't mean Helen posing as Patrice. I mean Helen is like litmus paper, changing personality depending on the situation. Stanwyck has the chops to be a chameleon; the problem is, it makes Helen a construct, not a character.
When we meet her, she pregnant and hysterical, banging on the door where the father (Lyle Bettger) is holed up with a brassy blonde. He slips a train ticket under the door for her: bye-bye, baby mama.
On the train, Helen is befriended by Hugh and Patrice Harkness, who are legitimately in the family way. When the women go to freshen up, their conversation is almost laughable: the most flagrant exposition I can recall in any film (and stay tuned for more): Patrice does all the talking, telling Helen everything she (and we) will need to know to further the plot-- that she never met Hugh's parents, they don't even know what she looks like, etc. Patrice even puts her wedding ring on Helen's finger(!) to be "safe" while she washes her hands. Train crash. So long Patrice and family.
Helen wakes up in the hospital minus serious injury, but plus a baby boy who needs a name. Like, maybe, Harkness. Assuming Patrice's identity is a bold decision, but instead of gaining courage, Helen becomes as nervous and timid as a rabbit when the Harknesses welcome her into her home. Eventually she warms up and relaxes, especially with Mama Harkness, who has a flagrant heart condition. But Helen goes squirrelly again whenever she slips up, e.g., not knowing Hugh's favorite song.
The family decide to make Helen and the boy their heirs, which she objects to, but is overruled by their other son, Bill (John Lund at his best, for what that's worth), who falls for Helen/Patrice even though he suspects she's a fraud. It's all that timid behavior, plus he sees her accidently write her real name while testing a pen in a store. (NB: the camera lingers on the next customer, a flagrantly brassy blonde.)
There is some stunning noirish photography by Daniel Fapp ("To Each His Own," "The Great Escape"), especially when a body is dragged up a railyard staircase at night in an explosion of steam. So this is a well-made, but very heavy-handed movie. I was never bored because, ironically, I was intrigued by the sheer clumsiness of the plot advancement, and by the demands placed on Stanwyck. Joanne Woodward won her Oscar with fewer faces.
When we meet her, she pregnant and hysterical, banging on the door where the father (Lyle Bettger) is holed up with a brassy blonde. He slips a train ticket under the door for her: bye-bye, baby mama.
On the train, Helen is befriended by Hugh and Patrice Harkness, who are legitimately in the family way. When the women go to freshen up, their conversation is almost laughable: the most flagrant exposition I can recall in any film (and stay tuned for more): Patrice does all the talking, telling Helen everything she (and we) will need to know to further the plot-- that she never met Hugh's parents, they don't even know what she looks like, etc. Patrice even puts her wedding ring on Helen's finger(!) to be "safe" while she washes her hands. Train crash. So long Patrice and family.
Helen wakes up in the hospital minus serious injury, but plus a baby boy who needs a name. Like, maybe, Harkness. Assuming Patrice's identity is a bold decision, but instead of gaining courage, Helen becomes as nervous and timid as a rabbit when the Harknesses welcome her into her home. Eventually she warms up and relaxes, especially with Mama Harkness, who has a flagrant heart condition. But Helen goes squirrelly again whenever she slips up, e.g., not knowing Hugh's favorite song.
The family decide to make Helen and the boy their heirs, which she objects to, but is overruled by their other son, Bill (John Lund at his best, for what that's worth), who falls for Helen/Patrice even though he suspects she's a fraud. It's all that timid behavior, plus he sees her accidently write her real name while testing a pen in a store. (NB: the camera lingers on the next customer, a flagrantly brassy blonde.)
There is some stunning noirish photography by Daniel Fapp ("To Each His Own," "The Great Escape"), especially when a body is dragged up a railyard staircase at night in an explosion of steam. So this is a well-made, but very heavy-handed movie. I was never bored because, ironically, I was intrigued by the sheer clumsiness of the plot advancement, and by the demands placed on Stanwyck. Joanne Woodward won her Oscar with fewer faces.