MOVIEGOER

MGM productions somehow always smack of the middle-aged sentimentality of Sigmund Romberg, and like Romberg they go along in the same pleasant way, making some people happy and others disgusted. "The Clock," it will be said, is heart-warming--and it is, depending on one's state of mind.

The typical American boy, popularly and erroneously, is a Middle-Western farm or small-town product, and that's what Robert Walker, who has become a very mature actor, is in "The Clock." And following further the dictates of the popular imagination, though here it is nor erroneous, MGM has put him in a uniform--Corporal, AUS.

In New York on a two day furlough, the All-American boy is naturally awed by escalators and sky-scrapers and such-like. When he meets an equally unspoiled and sympathetic soul (Judy Garland, who has also grown up) he quite naturally falls in love with her--or at least Metro makes it seem natural.

Its photography ranks with Henry Luce's best; its acting is natural; its humor (James Gleason, Keenan Wynn) is appealing; it does not run to absurd lengths. Yet "The Clock" drags, mostly because it is too full of little climaxes and its big climax is poorly timed. What's worse, Leo roars too loudly and the MGM-Sigmund Romberg-Reader's Digest flavor is too strong. And millions of people will love it.