Review of The Eve of St. Mark

I doubt if Mr H.Morgan ever gave a poor performance throughout his long career - unfortunately the same cannot be said about Mr V.Price who veers wildly from ham to camp and back again in "The eve of St Mark" a 1944 propaganda picture designed to reassure moms,dads,sisters and wives that sending their menfolk off to war was a Good Thing. The ill - fated Mr W.Eythe is nominally the lead but Messrs Morgan and Price carry the main weight and are the polar opposite reasons that make the movie worth watching in a bizarrely fascinating sort of way. It may have satisfied American moviegoers at the time when the Invasion of Europe was on everybody's lips and the task of licking the Japs was dragging on a bit,but it's heart on sleeve appeal for patriotism and sacrifice fails to win many admirers in today's more cynical audience whose trust in Government and politicians has been sorely tried for many years. The usual cross section of white 1940s American Society -Country Boy,Tough Yank,Irish Rebel,Southern Aristo etc etc - end up on a Pacific Island debating whether to fight or run having failed to turn the tide against the Jap hordes who are now bombing the crxp out of them. Together with a "Doc" and a "Sarge",these boys are willing to go to hell and back for Uncle Sam by golly.But don't count on the "..and back" part. The folks back home,in touch by letter,decide in the end to allow their minor son to join the Air Force with their blessing,grinning bravely and getting down to the business of running their farm to keep America fighting. Mr Price manages to keep a straight face if not a Southern Accent as he mangles Shakespeare.Mr Morgan,rather more pragmatic, expresses doubts as to whether things will ever be different for the working man - you've got that about right Harry. In the end the boys decide to fight on(phew!). In the meantime the real G.I.s waiting in their bases in England to die in their thousands liberating a Europe that only too soon would be endeavouring to minimise their sacrifice for reasons of nationalistic realpolitik,and holed up in Japanese held islands in a disease - ridden nightmare would have laughed "The eve of St Mark" off the screen. No high - falutin' speeches required,no bristle - jawed cynicism,just the desire to get on with the job and go home.Maybe to mom and dad's farm,maybe to the factory floor or the faded grandeur of the Old South. And the overwhelming urge to kick Mr V.Price's precious arse.