Ah, the very title conjures up a fifty-year hit parade of big, bold, passionate (etc.) best-sellers. And for certain the original screenplay by Gregory Nava and Anna Thomas has all the elements: all the horrors of family and the troubles of war; the suspense, the drama, the tragedy of a rainy-night elopement with a soldier ("There was an accident, and Papa's car went into the lagoon"); the vow of revenge ("I'm going to get revenge") from the disowned son, who then wangles his way into the relevant infantry division at the Italian front (the war, of course, is the Second World one, to underscore the quaintness of all this) and who wastes no time in drawing a bead on his unknowing brother-in-law but succeeds instead in accidentally shooting a knife-wielding Nazi, and is awarded the Bronze Star to the accompaniment of an Ennio Morricone solo trumpet and a round of applause from the entire hospital ward -- there's irony for you (there's irony for those who've never been able to grasp the concept). But it's not over yet: not before the ranting soliloquy in front of a mirror and the escalation to a "thrilling" climax in a burning bell tower. All of this might have been vulgarly entertaining, had the director been someone other than Gregory Nava. He, not quite up to the enlarged scale of "El Norte", but not about to let that stop him from stepping up yet again, is mainly just a pastry decorator using light instead of sugar: frosted, honeyed, caramelled, something for every occasion. With William Hurt, Timothy Hutton, Melissa Leo. (1988) — Duncan Shepherd
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