This quintessential Warner Brothers soap is long but has a slender plot, which is mostly the context for Bette Davis' star performance. She is one of the Trehernes of Rhode Island, a woman of inherited wealth and no responsibilities beyond a whirl of social events and the pursuit of pleasure. Only those headaches, and that blurred vision, are the early symptoms of an inoperable brain cancer.
It's a classic role for Davis which allows her to explore the many sides of her star persona: a socialite who believes in the superiority of her breeding; the chastened bride-to-be who faces surgery to save her life; then a reckless thrill seeker intent on blocking out the reality of her relapse; finally, the selfless wife in plaid/denim in snowy Vermont who accepts her death, compensated by a brief experience of love.
To allow Bette to shine more brightly, she was paired with her frequent leading man, the placid, faithful George Brent as the brilliant brain surgeon who can't save her, but does at least marry her. The film is a tribute to the medical profession, but this is Hollywood pathology. Davis' symptoms are crafted to fit the requirements of the plot.
It's pure escapism. We get a tour of the privileges of the rich: their homes, clothes and horses. There are a few oddities. Humphrey Bogart plays an Irish stablehand and Ronald Reagan a drunken playboy, which suggests it was someone's first day in casting. But Max Steiner's score is typically superb. The choral swell when Bette bids farewell to her dogs is a fabulous tearjerker. As is the film.