Penny Serenade feels like something you find halfway through on Talking Pictures TV, realise Cary Grant is about to cry, and decide to stick with out of curiosity. The famous judge’s-office meltdown is the big draw and, fair play, he goes for it. The problem is the rest of the film keeps waving a hankie in your face, desperate for the same reaction.
The Japan prologue is an odd highlight, complete with an earthquake sequence that looks like it’s wandered in from a different, more interesting picture. Then we’re back home with the records, flashbacks and a very firm sermon about babies as the one true route to fulfilment. Every now and then it half-admits life doesn’t work like that, then promptly forgets.
It’s sentimental, lopsided, and not nearly as profound as it thinks it is. But as an afternoon melodrama – Grant crying, the needle dropping, emotions pushed to eleven – it’s… fine. You watch it, you feel a bit, you move on.