ape Breton Island, on the northeast end of Nova Scotia, houses a small fishing village full of simple, proud people. After an accident involving an impalement with a fish hook, strange and new – and unusually young for this kind of reclusive post – doctor Robert Richardson (Lew Ayres) is called in to tend to the wound. Though his advice is often countered by notions of his predecessor’s contrary assessments, Robert is the only one in the area, so his usefulness can’t be overlooked; he even nurses a sick cow in the middle of the night, without any thought of payment.

During that particular event, in which he delivers a heifer on a farm, he meets a deaf and dumb girl named Belinda McDonald (Jane Wyman), to whom he immediately takes a fascination. His assistant, Stella McGuire (Jan Sterling), who fancies the doctor herself, quickly becomes unnoticed – which is quite alright with her main admirer Laughlin McCormick (Stephen McNally), who doesn’t approve of the untrustworthily intelligent man. Richardson doesn’t have time for a proper romance anyway; with his former experience working with deaf children, he’s convinced he can teach Belinda – disparagingly referred to as “the dummy” or “the dimwit” by not only the townsfolk but also her father (Charles Bickford) and her aunt (Agnes Moorehead) – the basics of sign language, which could open up her world and allow for a wealth of communication.

“You’re wasting your while, man.” Based on the Elmer Harris stage play, this heartwarming tale of recognizing a neglected woman and attempting to help her not only achieve a nominal education, but also to correct a cruel ostracization by ignorant peers is initially highly rewarding. But it can’t just be purely uplifting and fun; a startlingly dark turn complicates the scenario, escalating Belinda’s adversity and hampering Robert’s careful instruction. Like other poignant dramas of the era, the more severe the subject matter – handled with a certain censorship of the period surrounding taboo ideas (this might be the first picture to earnestly tackle rape during the reign of the Production Code) – the greater its resonance. “I’ve always been civil with her.”

“It’s a good thing she can’t think or feel.” Despite the central hardship and the constant threat of society’s merciless judgment (as well as the intricacies of Belinda remaining largely unable to fully comprehend her situation, thanks to a generational lack of schooling surrounding sex – regardless of her specific physical disabilities), the film remains unpredictable and hopeful. It’s handled well by all of its principle cast, managing a feeling of genuineness, even though a few details aren’t entirely authentic; the characters are believable and everyone approaches their roles with sincerity. This works exceptionally well as the picture approaches its staggering climax and breathtaking conclusion (mirroring the sorts of compelling tragedies of Thomas Hardy), piling on the miseries and outrage to the point of testing the audience’s capacity for tolerating sustained unjustness. The outcome is nevertheless fitting (moderately overlong as it may be in stretching out tensions), resolving the circumstances in a tremendously satisfying way.

– Mike Massie