The New Pictures, Jul. 16, 1945

You Came Along (Hal Wallis-Paramount) almost justifies the people who "don't want to cry at the movies because there's enough sadness in the world already." Striving bravely, in the best tradition of air-corps romance, to maintain a gallant gaiety in the face of impending doom, the picture fails completely to realize that its tears are obviously glycerine, its poignance pointless, and its gloom only a studio fog obscuring what should be a wholly delightful comedy.

In its lightest and brightest moments You Came Along follows with gusto the happy shenanigans of three heroic and irresponsible Army pilots (Robert Cummings, Don DeFore, Charles Drake) assigned to tour the U.S. on a bond-selling mission. They are under the supervision of Treasury Agent I. V. Hotchkiss. When I. V. turns out to be Ivy, a svelte, dazzling gilthead (Lizabeth Scott), all the necessary ingredients are in the shaker. If only the bitters had been left out, the result would be a refreshing hot-weather mixture of laughter and lighthearted love.

But even as coolly efficient Ivy is displacing the nation's other blondes in the minds of her three flying wolves as No. 1 target for tonight, tragedy skulks behind the scenes. The gayest rake of the lot (Robert Cummings, an Army flyer in fact as well as fancy) is doomed to die from one of those mysteriously incurable diseases which in filmdom carry off their perfectly healthy victims with stopwatch accuracy at curtain time. Ivy's inevitable wedding steeps all four principals in a maudlin effusion of unspoken nobility aimed at sending the audience out with a lump instead of a laugh in its throat.

Despite an almost flawless performance by Actor Cummings and the stylishly bedizened beauty of Newcomer Lizabeth Scott, all this tragic extra footage seems mainly designed to display the virtuosity of Producer Hal Wallis' latest entry in the screen glamor sweepstakes.

A Thousand and One Nights (Columbia) is inspired about equally by Scheherazade and Billy Rose. Spicing up the Arabian Nights with jive talk is risky business, at best—but A Thousand and One Nights mixes and very nearly succeeds in making the most of two different worlds.

Cinemaddicts who remember the elder Fairbanks will be willing to swear that they have seen it all a thousand and one times before: the bejeweled, cloth-of-gold turbans; the moon-drenched palace gardens; the sleepy camels and fiery horses; interior sets as sumptuous as Hollywood nightclubs and exteriors that make the Taj Mahal look ramshackle; the vagabond street singer, Aladdin (Cornel Wilde), whose love for beautiful Princess Armina (Adele Jergens) is thwarted by the Sultan's wicked brother (Dennis Hoey).

The story is like a silly but lovable old friend who suddenly turns up after long absence with an expensive new wardrobe and a novel line of chatter. A lavish Technicolor production, and deadpan acting by the principal players, give the nostalgic old fable a simpleminded freshness and charm.