text: Spoiler alert  although I think this one was spoiled coming out of the can It's hard to even imagine that a film with these stars, from this studio, made at this time period, could be so awful, but it is. It is the film's biggest flaw by far that it just doesn't make any damn sense.<br /><br />Rich widower American aristocrat Penn Gaylord leaves his small daughter "in charge" and goes off to World War I where he is killed. Then we flash forward to present day (1942) and total confusion. The three sisters are in court where they are said to have spent the last twenty years, and some jerk named Barclay is trying to take their home away from them. This is just the beginning of an endless series of unanswered questions that comprises the script, more holes in it than The Warren Report. What happened to the Gaylord fortune? If the will is worth half a billion, why has the family home gone from an opulent palace to the house on The Munsters? Who the devil is this Barclay clown? And why is he able to take someone's home away from them? The questions just pile on top of more questions.<br /><br />The usually affable and charming George Brent is playing Barclay, who is inexplicably a total sod tromping all over everyone, taking whatever the heck he wants no matter who it belongs to and without a twinge of guilt; yet no one besides Fiona (Barbara Stanwick) seems to particularly dislike this cretin. Why? None of these questions are ever answered. We instead just follow Fiona's life from one train wreck to another, the evil Barclay takes away her home, her fortune, and even her child. What does she do? Shoot him? Set him on fire? No, too logical. In a completely improbably wrap-up, this woman, who's only prior romantic involvement with Barclay was, save for the technicality of marriage, rape, suddenly decides mid-sentence (literally) that she does not hate him, she loves him. And they're going to live happily ever after. All of a sudden for no reason in the world, this early female role model of independence and authority is transformed into the usual helpless ankle-twisting twit more commonly found in films of this era. Yeah, sure, steal everything in the world that belongs to me and I'll fall in love with you. On what planet does that happen? I can only guess the reason I never heard of this film before I happened to catch it on Turner is that it was as lost on contemporary audiences as it is today.