"William" (Brian Aherne) is the working man made good and is determined to see that his young son has all of the things that he didn't have growing up. The best of clothes, housing, eduction - and it all creates the rather miscreant creature that is "Oliver" (initially played well as a rather odious child by Scotty Beckett, then by Louis Hayward). He values nothing, takes for granted everything he has and gradually, as he gets older, hurts and alienates just about everyone. The only people who seem to be able to see through his façade, and who care enough to try and help are "Livia" (Madeleine Carroll) and the flighty, love-struck, young "Maeve" (Laraine Day) but will it all be too little too late for this increasingly self-destructive fellow? The story is interesting and illustrates the dangers of spoiling a child, but somehow the character of the father is just too soft. Too trusting and forgiving. This is a man who came up the hard way and though clearly he wants better for his child, his character is so weak as to frequently come across as implausible. The one staple in all of this is the friendship between "William" and his lifelong friend "Dermot" (Henry Hull) which becomes more important as the penny drops that young "Oliver" looks like a lost cause. There's no stopping cringing every time "Day" breaks into her Irish scent - it could strip paint, and as the story lumbers on I felt it all dragged down in a wordy dialogue and a paucity of pace or development. Like it's stuck in treacle, it seems to lose it's way until we are rescued by the War. Hayward is good, the story is solid - but the film struggles.