Assignment in Brittany

This is a story of the remarkable resemblance of two French men during WW II: one of whom is dealing traitorously with the Nazi occupation, and the other who is sent by British intelligence to try to discover the location of a Nazi port in Brittany that is destroying English ships. Both the mother and the sweetheart of Bertrand (the first man) are very disappointed with his activities and find it hard to believe in the goodness of Pierre, who is impersonating him, and are slow to accept the deception. Complicating the plot is Bertrand's mistress whose existence is unknown to Pierre. How the location of the Nazi port is discovered and the double-identity is resolved form a thrilling development.

First, let's start with the very clear purpose of this movie - because, during World War II, when Hollywood made a movie about the war, it had clear reasons for doing so.

When the Germans invaded France (and Belgium and Holland) in May, 1940, it quickly became apparent that the (then) Allies were unprepared for Blitzkrieg, (Why and who was to blame is a story for another day.) By June France was overrun and the French army, what was left of it, was quite simply fleeing before the German invaders. The French government, as unprepared as the French army, turned over power to the very conservative Philippe Pétain, a World War I hero, and he negotiated an armistice with the Germans. The French therefore stopped fighting - except for those who fled to England to continue the fight under Ch De Gaulle. Here in the States, that was depicted in large headlines as "The French Quit."

FDR realized that France could not be written off as a nation of collaborators, because if we were ever to defeat the Germans, we would have to land there. And so, Hollywood was directed to find ways of showing that not all the French were Nazi sympathizers. (On this, see the very useful book Hollywood Goes to War: How Politics, Profit and Propaganda Shaped World War II Movies.) This led to movies like *Reunion in France* (1942), *Paris After Dark* (1943), and this movie. Its first purpose was to show that, while there were indeed collaborators among the French, there were also brave anti-Nazis - there is no indication of a real organized Resistance in this movie.

The second purpose of this movie was evidently to appeal to women with a love story and a very handsome leading man, the French actor Jean-Pierre Aumont, in what was evidently his first American movie. (His English is very good.) I found this love story, with Susan Peters, to be of no interest at all. There's no chemistry between them at all. That's probably why the movie is now forgotten. Aumont was better looking than Bogart, but Peters couldn't hold a candle to Bergman - no woman could - and their scenes together are of no interest.

What I found interesting about this movie, which was probably filmed very quickly - the novel on which it was based came out just the year before, in 1942 - is that, despite the title, it presents a very generic, and indeed non-Breton Brittany. It takes place near St. Lunaire, in the Côtes d'Armor, where I have lived for 20 years, and I can assure you that none of the architecture, and almost none of the costumes, look like what one sees, or would have seen, there. Even the names are not Breton. (I don't know if they are the same as in Helen MacInnes' novel.) Why MGM didn't bother to go for something more authentic I can't guess, since they certainly had the resources to do so. Perhaps it was because they figured that Americans in 1943 and before, even those who had traveled to France, were unlikely to have known Brittany. (That seems to be symbolized by the final image, Mont St. Michel, which American tourists would have visited, but which is in Normandy.) Perhaps it was just because they were in a rush and didn't want to bother.

No one, but no one, who knew Brittany at the time would have believed for one moment that a Frenchman from another part of France - Métard/Aumont is presented as being from NE France - could have passed for a small-town Breton for even 30 seconds once he opened his mouth and started speaking French with a non-Breton accent. Whether that is dealt with in MacInnes' novel I don't know.

So, is there anything to recommend here, since the love story and even the basic premise of Métard passing for a small-town Breton are unconvincing? I found the staging of the attack on the submarine base to be well done. Yes, the torpedo boats are clearly toys floating in something like a bathtub. But other than that, I thought that part of the movie was well done. (The director, Jack Conway, had done some great action movies, like *Vivo Villa* and *A Tale of Two Cities*.)

When you watch this movie - and I hope you will, if you're interested in World War II - I hope you'll try to watch it as Americans would have seen it in 1943, a time when we had just entered the war and no one knew if the Germans would retain control of Europe. That gives it a power that an ahistorical viewing does not have.

This is a wartime film obviously intended to bolster the public's resolve. It stars a French expatriate, Jean-Pierre Aumont, who came to Hollywood when his country fell to the Germans. Unfortunately, not too many other French actors were available...and those who SHOULD have had French accents never even tried. So, it's all a bit strange with Aumont the only French person in a film set in a France where everyone has American and British accents!! Just suspend your sense of disbelief and watch.

The story is a bit silly but enjoyable. It seems that a French agent cannot go back to his native land for an assignment due to an injury. But, they manage to find a Free-French officer, Pierre (Aumont) who looks a lot like him. And, after a bit of plastic surgery, voila...the man has a double who will do the assignment for him! His job is to locate the secret German submarine bases so they can be destroyed. And, until he locates them, Pierre is to assume the other man's life...living withe man's mother and interacting with his friends.

The story that follows is rather typical of a wartime film. However, the Germans are not quite as monstrous as they often were in WWII- era films--as the filmmakers were going more for realism in this instance. Overall, it's enjoyable but a tad dumb. Turn off the part of your brain that questions silly plot lines and you'll no doubt enjoy this generally well made film.

The film emerges from a moment when Hollywood was still adjusting its craft to the pressures and demands of a world at war, and that context permeates every technical and artistic choice on screen. The wartime environment shaped not only the tone but the methods of production: studios were urged to produce works that could sustain morale, clarify allegiances, and sketch the war in forms that felt immediate without necessarily adhering to combat realism. This influences the film's visual texture-there is a crispness to the lighting and a restraint in the staging that reflects the necessity of speed, efficiency, and thematic clarity rather than the more atmospheric ambiguity that would later define post-1945 resistance dramas. At the same time, 1943 was a year in which Hollywood began experimenting with grittier chiaroscuro to mirror the clandestine nature of occupied Europe, so the film occupies that early transitional space between polished studio artificiality and emerging noir-inflected war aesthetics.

The cinematography favors a careful balance of theatrical composition and emerging location-realism simulation. Interiors tend to rely on controlled lighting that emphasizes sharp contrasts between characters, which suits a story of infiltration, suspicion, and shifting identities, even if the effect sometimes appears too immaculate to evoke the psychological tension it seeks. When compared to The Moon Is Down (1943), which uses shadow and spatial depth to evoke the pervasive dread of an occupied town, the film opts for a clearer, more linear visual strategy, shaping its images to ensure narrative legibility over atmospheric weight. On the other hand, when juxtaposed with the rougher visual textures of Edge of Darkness (1943), the film's studio-driven compositions feel slightly more contained, less invested in rugged realism and more aligned with precise dramatic staging. That choice is neither a flaw nor a strength by itself, but it does position the film firmly within the propagandistic priorities of its production year: clarity over ambiguity, legibility over immersion.

The sound design and score underscore these tendencies. The music aligns with 1940s studio conventions where emotional cues are explicit, with orchestration rising predictably to underline tension or resolve. There is a certain earnestness to this musical language, a desire to embolden the viewer rather than allow unease to linger. While this works well in moments of mobilizing patriotic sentiment, it occasionally undercuts opportunities for a deeper psychological portrayal of clandestine resistance. Compared to The Moon Is Down (1943), which employs a more subdued and atmospheric scoring style to capture the dread of occupation, this film maintains a brisker musical momentum, reflective of its focus on mission-driven urgency rather than existential strain. Sound effects-boots on cobblestones, distant artillery rumbles, hushed voices-are cleanly mixed but never intrusive; they serve narrative efficiency more than world-building density.

Acting in the film adheres to the wartime performance codes of moral clarity and expressive restraint. The protagonist's dual role demands a modulation between controlled intensity and outward calm, and this is executed with commendable discipline even when the script pushes toward melodramatic expression. The supporting cast operates within archetypes recognizable from similar wartime resistance narratives, though certain secondary performances bring more nuance than the screenplay might have initially suggested. Faces are captured in tight, deliberate close-ups that highlight moral resolve, fear, or defiance, often substituting psychological depth with emblematic purpose. In comparison with Uncertain Glory (1944), close enough in era and similar in its depiction of duplicity within occupied Europe, the performances here are less shaded by moral ambiguity and more aligned with the straightforward heroism the year of production demanded. This reduces complexity but increases readability, which was a key aim of films intended to strengthen civilian morale while acknowledging the difficulties of European resistance movements.

Production design reflects the paradoxes of wartime filmmaking: a desire to evoke occupied Brittany with limited resources and without the ability to film in Europe. Sets are crafted with care, and although the textures sometimes betray their studio origins, there is an admirable effort to recreate the claustrophobia of villages under surveillance. Costuming is notably precise, lending visual credibility even when spatial authenticity is harder to achieve. The mise-en-scène purposely avoids overcrowding: resistance films of this moment often rely on bareness rather than density, suggesting a landscape emptied by fear and control, and the film follows that pattern effectively. Yet there are areas where a more daring visual strategy could have deepened the sense of danger-props and environments occasionally appear too orderly for a region under occupation, a contrast to the more lived-in feel of Edge of Darkness (1943), which leans into rugged textures to enhance the sense of communal struggle.

Editing supports the film's forward momentum with clean, unobtrusive cuts. Transitions are designed for precision rather than rhythm, with a tempo that mirrors the protagonist's mission-focused trajectory. There are moments where the editing feels almost too brisk, sacrificing atmospheric buildup in favor of narrative progression, but that tendency fits the propagandistic function of many 1943 resistance films: urgency was a virtue, contemplation a luxury. The film's pacing remains consistent, though some viewers might sense that emotional beats resolve more quickly than they have time to fully resonate.

Thematically, the film reflects the morale-bolstering imperatives of mid-war Hollywood: a reassurance that occupied Europe harbored both courage and loyalty, and that clandestine operations were both necessary and noble. The message is unmistakable, shaped by the anxieties and needs of 1943, and this historical context explains both the film's strengths-its conviction, clarity, and sense of purpose-and its limitations, such as occasional overstatement and a reluctance to explore morally ambiguous territory. At a time when audiences needed orientation as much as entertainment, the film answers that call with a blend of suspense, visual polish, and narrative directness, offering a crafted wartime artifact whose technical and artistic choices reveal as much about the moment it was made as about the story it seeks to evoke.

This picture has the look and feel of a British film of the period, probably because it includes mainly actors who spent WWII in Hollywood under contract to MGM. Jean-Pierre Aumont and his colleagues show their previous training on stage through too large gestures and reactions. Also, the acting often looks as if war were a lot of fun.

Aumont is incredibly handsome but seems wasted in this two-dimensional portrayal of a Free French warrior. The picture no doubt bolstered the spirits of his fans, dramatizing the efforts of the Free French at a crucial time in history. Any authenticity in his character comes from the knowledge that he did indeed serve with the Free French, for which he was later decorated by the French government.

The best acting in the film is by the naturalistic Susan Peters and the classically trained Margaret Wycherly.

Nevertheless, the picture is worth seeing for its place in the history of movie making.