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To compare a mini-gem such as Till the End of Time with the hugely promoted, star-studded Best Years of Our Lives -- the film that, historically, often is regarded as the screen icon for the re-adjusting soldiers' genre -- is like comparing Ray Robinson or Roberto Duran with Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis or Rocky Marciano.

The same way that Robinson and Duran were, pound-for-pound, on the same level with their larger, heavier, stronger counterparts, Till the End of Time -- "pound-for-pound" -- is right with its larger, more celebrated celluloid counterpart.

While Best Years, with its flashiness of celebrated cast (i.e. Frederick March, Myrna Loy), is much more expansive, Time expertly utilizes a small-scale, more focused look at the returning-soldier theme.

As the proverbial slice-of-life, Time not only is more easily palatable for viewers, it also is quite accurate in the depiction of its conceptions and characterizations.

The primary characters created by Guy Madison, Robert Mitchum and Bill Williams---as the returning World War II veterans -- and Dorothy McGuire, as the mildly cynical war widow with whom Madison's Cliff Harper becomes infatuated, are outstanding portrayals. Yes, Madison's sensitive performance in his first key role was effective, regardless of the less-than-sterling reviews traditionally given by critics.

Fetching, twenty-year old Jean Porter, as the adorably saucy bobby-soxer who likewise is infatuated with Harper, also is quite effective.

Excellent character performances are given by: Tom Tully and Ruth Nelson, as Harper's parents; Selena Royale, as the mother of Williams' Perry Kincheloe; and Bill Gargan, as the veterans' representative.

Director Edward Dmytryk expertly orchestrates the film, which captures the unique flavor of its time frame as if it were bottling a rare wine.

Though "Best Years" deserves much of its traditional praise, do not overlook "Time" simply because its focus is smaller. "Pound-for-pound" it is at least as good. Possibly even better.

Why is it that a film production company and its supposed professionals undertake a project that would seem sufficiently elastic to really emerge as a significant exponent of its subject-matter...only to become a pale facsimilie, causing its knowledgeable audience to feel slighted?

This was the case with the shouldn't-have-been low-budget "Joe Louis Story."

After Rocky Marciano one-and-for-all ended Joe Louis' memorable career, with that devastating TKO at Madison Square Garden that October night in 1951, everyone---not just fight fans---realized that a great sports era in this country had ended. Even non-liberal Americans reluctantly understood Joe Louis' significant impact not only in sports but on society.

A decade before Jackie Robinson, there was Louis. Joe not only had to win his battles inside the ring, but---in a struggle to win-over White fans---he had to remove much of the residue tarnish from the (1908-1915) reign of the first Black heavyweight champion, the talented but unsavory Jack Johnson.

Thus, when officials of the Chrysler Company, shortly after Louis' final fight, chose to do a film about the fighter's life/career, there was immense material at-hand.

Rather than utilize sufficient funds and really produce a true feature film---covering the story's multi-dimension potential---officials instead chose to go the cheap, shallow route. That's truly unfortunate because both Louis and his impact deserved so much more.

The biggest problem with the movie is that it sugar-coats the circumstances Louis faced, in-and-out of the ring. It shows him coming from a strong, middle-class Detroit neighborhood. He certainly did not come from this type of affluency.

When Black business leaders, John Roxborough and Julian Black, assumed roles as Louis' mentors/financial backers, much of their motivation was financial. They saw his ring potential and, despite their own economic status, wanted to ride his coat-tails to greater fortune.

This was not addressed in the film. Neither was the combination of prejudice and attempted mob-influence Louis encountered.

Few of Louis' early fights were shown/depicted, though clips from his key early bouts with Primo Carnera and Max Baer were shown.

When people think of Louis' opponents, two immediately come to mind: Max Schmeling and Billy Conn. The film discusses, and offers clips from, the Schmeling fights but virtually ignores the Conn bouts. Very brief mention is made of the anti-climatic second Conn fight; but it was the classic first fight that should have been developed and shown. Had light-heavyweight Conn---a huge underdog to a vintage Louis---survived the 13th round, and won either the 14th or 15th, he would have taken Louis' title.

There should have been much more continuity shown as Louis' career is presented. More clips from his title defenses would have been excellent---and necessary---bridges as we relived Louis' great career. He came within an eyelash of losing his Dec. 5, 1947, defense against Jersey Joe Walcott. Then, six months later, he made his final defense with a KO of Jersey Joe.

There were, however, a few positives. Coley Wallace facially resembled a young Louis so much that it was almost eerie. And Wallace, who had a brief, undistinguished professional career during the late-1940's and early '50's, of course accurately handled the up-close training and fighting scenes. Ironically, Wallace also is remembered for having been the last man to beat Marciano---if he actually did. Though all accounts say that Wallace was given a gift three-round decision of Marciano in their early-1948 amateur bout, he did win the official decision. Wallace was smart enough not to fight Rocky when both were pros.

Strong character performances were given by James Edwards, as Jack Blackburn, Louis' trainer and close friend; Paul Stewart, as a sportswriter and Louis supporter; John Marley, as Mannie Seamon, a Louis latter-career trainer; and Hilda Sims, as Joe's lonely, increasingly nagging, wife Marva.

The few clips of Louis' bouts add a touch of realism to the program.

This film should have been a major undertaking. It comes-off as a small-letter production when it should have been in all-caps.

Too bad Mister Cory isn't given a first name; he deserved one...especially when expertly portrayed by Mr. Tony Curtis.

About the time this film was done, in 1957, Curtis was gaining rapid momentum in what would become a memorable career. "Mister Cory" was bookcased by excellent mid/latter Fifties' Curtis films such as "Trapeeze", "The Vikings", "The Defiant Ones", "The Sweet Smell of Success", "Kings Go Forth" and "Operation Petticoat." Each of these Curtis efforts received critical acclaim...particularly "The Defiant Ones," for which he won an Oscar nomination, and "Sweet Smell of Success", for which he should have been nominated.

"Mister Cory" rarely is listed among Curtis' major early efforts. It should be. It is a real "sleeper." The actor, and those around him here, lift the film multiple steps above its melodramatic flavor, into the realm of something quite riveting.

Curtis was 32 when "Mister Cory" was done, but his boyish good-looks and trim physique make him quite believeable as the story's young man just out of the Navy, seeking his future. However, if anyone believes Curtis became successful on the screen just for those elements need only to watch performances as this to learn otherwise.

Cory is a complex character study, with volatile undercurrents beneath his attractive, agreeable surface. Curtis expertly handles the various nuances of the role. He makes the viewer believe he IS the tough kid just out of Chicago, seeking to escape his seamy roots. First, in the verdant Wisconsin resort locale, and later as a manager/host for a glittering Lake Shore Drive gambling house catering to the wealthy and snobbish.

In reality, Curtis was a tough kid seeking to escape his Bronx roots. He certainly could identify with Cory. But merely identifying with a character isn't sufficient for a believeable screen performance. Curtis demonstrates that he brought much more to the table than attractiveness and a pleasing personality. "Mister Cory" is only one such example.

Joining Curtis in "Mister Cory" are a wealth of outstanding supporting people. Twenty-two year old Kathryn Grant, less an a year from marrying Bing Crosby, is the saucy, outdoorsy, girl-next-door Jen Vollard who makes little doubt of her interest in Cory. In the role, Grant is adorable. She favored marriage over a screen career, a choice unfortunate for viewers.

Martha Hyer likewise is effective as the lacquered, polished Abigail Vollard, Jen's sister. Like most males who come into contact with her, Cory is taken. Unlike others, he is not overwhelmed. Ultimately, he learns that her smooth veneer merely whitewashes over unattractive beneath-the-surface elements.

Veteran character actor Charles Bickford is excellent as the stolid Jeremiah Caldwell, Cory's friend/mentor. Russ Morgan also turned in a fine performance as Ruby Matrobe, the suggestively shady force behind the gambling house.

But, with Curtis and Grant, the film is stolen by British stage/screen veteran Henry Daniell.

As Mr. Earnshaw, Daniell initially is boss to Cory's busboy at the resort. Later, he is recruited by Cory to tend to customers' needs at Matrobe's establishment. It is Earnshaw's "air of snobbery" that is his most marketable quality to Cory. Daniell carries off the stuffy, Mr. Manners role with enjoyable aplomb. With an O Henry-like twist near the film's conclusion, Cory learns that stiff, protocol-spouting Earnshaw once was arrested...for bigamy.

The film's most thankless role is that of Abigail's long-time suiter, Alex Wyncott. He has spent much of his life eagerly, if a bit wearily, fending-off numerous would be-rivals for her. William Reynolds handles the role well, and deserves credit for undertaking it. Not only is Wyncott portrayed to be a rich man's apparently inept son, he verbally is accosted by Cory in witheringly demeaning fashion. Only near the the 92-minute film's conclusion is Wyncott finally allowed to demonstrate backbone: he shoots Cory in the arm. Curtis responds: "...I didn't think he had the guts."

Upon viewing "Mister Cory," those unfamiliar with the film might likewise reply, "Where has this been all this time?"

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