A convict, once a hero of World War I, escapes and flees to Paris to find his daughter, who believes him dead. He doesn’t have the courage to reveal his true identity and pretends to be a friend of her father. In the short time they spend together he comes to encourage her in a love story that blossoms between her and a young accordionist. But most notably he helps her escape from the clutches of a band of pimps and conmen, sacrificing his own life in the process. From his earliest sound films, Dwan completely masters this new mode of expression, using dialogue sparingly and wisely, in a succession of short sequences that are both effective and poetic. The dialogue never slows, nor weighs down the action. The story, structured with consummate skill, manages to be tight, dense and agile at the same time, allowing the actors to express all the nuances and unspoken complexities of their characters. The cinematography, often rather gloomy, nonetheless conveys a wide range of shades entirely unlike the picturesque quality of French ‘atmosphere films’. There’s something of Victor Hugo in the story: the quality of intrigue (recalling  certain  aspects of Les Miserables), but also the balance between power and sweetness in the depiction of the characters. Dwan demonstrates, as always, a particular sensitivity to the individuals with something tragic or pitiable in their destiny. The movie is also the first sound film by Dwan that blended elegy and tragedy, an approach that would be reprised twenty years later in the last works of the great director.

Jacques Lourcelles, Dictionnaire du cinéma. Les films, Robert Laffont, Paris 1992