The story of the inhabitants of a small Soho street, especially of the romance between a womanising asphalt layer and the daughter of an Italian family who are about to emigrate to Canada.
Emeric Pressburger’s screenwriting outings in Britain without Michael Powell were few and far between, and this dour little drama might go some way to explaining why. Pressburger’s script aims for the sort of semi-documentary tone that had become fashionable at the time, but this romance needed a little local colour to buck it up, not grey sociological pronouncements.
Christopher Challis’s grim images of Soho have a certain historical value, but, amid a plethora of dodgy accents, neither John Gregson nor Belinda Lee even comes close to convincing.
George A. Cooper