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Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison

At the Metropolitan

By Walter E. Wilson

Sometime in 1944 a half-dead marine in a rubber raft washed ashore on a beautiful South Pacific island inhabited by a beautiful nun. Mr. Allison and Sister Angela spend most of their time alone on the island learning how incompatible their words are, but what a wholesome friendship two brave souls in danger can discover.

John Houston's direction recalls his African Queen, which likewise isolated a hard-boiled and dirty man-of-the-world with an unspoiled, unsoiled woman of religion, although with more fruitful results in the African Queen. Mr. Allison's religion, philosophy, and views on life he sums up succinctly: "I'm a Marine." His unshaven stubble, unerring faith in the crops and himself as a Marine, and his heart of gold which sometimes peeps furtively from beneath his unpolished exterior satisfy the role's needs. He must defend Sister Angela, who is all gold, but afraid, and wishing her faith were as solid as Mr. Allison's simple strength.

The nun shatters the marine's dreams of spending their lives alone together, "at least until the war ends," in classic insular-paradise fashion by assuring him that, although she hasn't yet taken her final vows, her heart is already given to Christ. But "Allison's luck" in being marooned with a good-looking nun dents his ego only momentarily, for Japs shell the island and land off and on, and the emotional stalemate is overshadowed by a hide-and-seek fight for their lives, which takes all of Mr. Allison's frustrated energies.

Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr in virtually the only two roles give very competent performances; this is a particular accomplishment for Mitchum. His Mr. Allison is a "big dumb guy," whose blunt confidence in his powers is tempered by unexpected flashes of real insight. Deborah Kerr plays Sister Anglea with naivete and a brouge, but without cruelty. Both could have been unmerciful satires of arch-type young nuns and dirty Marines; but Houston has made them happily sympathetic figures, and not pressed indelicate comparison too far.

The plot is fanciful, and half-believable, with one glaring exception; Sister Angela laments having to eat raw fish, and then gets sick eating it, but repeatedly prays before lit votary candles, somehow missing the potentiality of the flame before her.

Because the nun must maintain her faith and above all her chastity, and the Marine, relinquish his love for her, pure or normal as it is, the film's value is reduced to a light, often humorous level. Drama gives way to scenes of Platonic tenderness and dedication between the two. These are sensitively enough handled so that while Sister Anglea undergoes only brief moments of temptation and inner turmoil, and Mr. Allison takes his fate quickly in stride, this story of a Marine and a nun on a lush Pacific island is a first-rate fairy-tale.

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