Did Hollywood really think there was a market for this psychobabble? Rosalind Russell is the war widow searching for the five men who survived when her husband sacrificed his own life to save them and Melvyn Douglas is the alcoholic journalist guiding her through a series of surreal dream-like encounters in which she meets each of the men in turn or at least someone connected with them, himself being one of them.
There's a lot of mumbo jumbo about Peter Ibbetson as if that's going to be of much help to her or to us. "The Guilt of Janet Ames", for that indeed is the title, was based on another Lenore Coffee story but this falls far short of what we might expect from Miss Coffee. It even manages to cram in a nightclub skit by Sid Caesar! Dreadful.
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