The usual one-dimensional life in the Heimat is this time centered around the shrill voices of the Viennese Boys Choir without no one around to keep them from singing, on the contrary. The story is as simple and exciting as the snow on the mountains and excessively sentimental. Direction and acting are poor. There is, however, one scene (the father talking about his horse with his daughter's lover, who thinks that the father is talking about his fiancee) that is side splitting funny; maybe Willy Birgel thought: Let's do at least one scene worthwhile.
Review of Wenn die Glocken hell erklingen
