Rent The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

Great film - The Best Years of Our Lives review by PL

This is a ‘proper’ film. Really enjoyed end to end. Fascinating also to see US post war. It’s in black and white but that adds to the authenticity. Perhaps you have to be of a certain age to enjoy these classics. No swear words just a good story.

Coming Home. - The Best Years of Our Lives review by Steve

Credit to Sam Goldwyn Productions for making this sincere and sensitive drama about the big social issue of the period; the return of combat survivors after WWII. Fredric March plays an army sergeant demobbed to his well paid position at the bank. Dana Andrews comes home with PTSD and a decent rank from the air force, but to a dead end job.

And most memorably, representing the navy, Harold Russell, a non-professional actor who lost both hands for real. He has the most uncertain future of all. Some of the wives waited, and some didn't; life went on. There has been little preparation for the return of the veterans and business cuts the corners off any government legislation.

But this isn't a political film, it's more about the point of impact between the servicemen and their families. It tells us that without love and humanity, there is no future for anyone. The potential for sentimentality is mostly averted by skilful acting; Cathy O'Donnell does particularly well in a difficult role as Russell's girlfriend.

William Wyler gets the emotional pitch just right and his use of deep focus is masterly. Oddly, Gregg Toland's photography wasn't nominated but this won seven Oscars including best picture and director, and best actor for March. It was the biggest film of the decade at the US box office. It no longer has that sort of impact, but this is still a high quality production.

Home, Damaged, and Trying - The Best Years of Our Lives review by griggs

Few films confront the quiet wreckage of war quite like The Best Years of Our Lives. No flag-waving, no speeches—just three men coming home and trying to remember how to live. What makes it special isn’t the drama, but the discomfort: awkward silences, mismatched expectations, and the slow, painful realisation that heroism doesn’t guarantee happiness.

Fred can’t hold down a job, Al drinks his way through middle-class dinners, and Homer, played with astonishing naturalism by Harold Russell, returns home with prosthetic hooks and a smile he’s trying hard to believe. The film treats all three with grace but never indulges them. It doesn’t flinch from trauma, disillusionment, or the pressure to move on when you're still not sure who you are.

For something made in 1946, it’s startlingly modern—brushing up against PTSD, disability, and postwar malaise long before those terms had cultural weight. Wyler’s direction is restrained but deeply humane, and the performances feel lived-in, not theatrical. It’s a quietly radical film that earns its sentiment by refusing to sugarcoat the cost of peace.