Vigil in the Night

George Stevens’ 1940 drama sneaks up on you. You expect a weepy melodrama, but get something far more interesting: a portrait of vocation.

Carole Lombard plays Anne, a nurse who takes the fall for her sister’s fatal mistake. She finds work at another hospital. She earns respect. When she rejects the advances of the hospital’s financier she’s forced to resign. A smallpox outbreak brings her back.

Stevens trusts his material enough to underplay everything. Yes, there’s a clunky line early on about good nurses and bad nurses. Yes, the violins get sentimental. But the performances? Refreshingly subdued. These are professionals doing brutal work—12-hour shifts, six days a week, miserable pay, worse living conditions. No speeches. No hysteria. Just competence under pressure.

When dramatic moments arrive, they land like a punch because Stevens hasn’t been crying wolf for 90 minutes. One sequence builds tension around counting surgical sponges. It works.

Lombard carries it effortlessly. Those eyes—intelligent, empathetic, unwavering. She convinces you of Anne’s dedication without a single grand gesture. Brian Aherne plays the doctor who falls for her, and wisely, he doesn’t compete. This is her movie. Even Cary Grant would’ve been too much light in the frame. This isn’t a love story pretending to be about nursing. It’s about the work.

And Peter Cushing, in an early role as a working-class suitor, shines. Stevens saw something in him and expanded the small part.¹ Cushing delivers, walking right up to the edge of histrionics in a third-act confrontation with Lombard, then pulling back at the perfect moment. Though he doesn’t overshadow Lombard, he registers as a blossoming talent.

The production design convinces, especially during the claustrophobic smallpox outbreak. The hospital feels lived-in and crumbling. Only a rear-projection London walk betrays the studio artifice.

This was a real surprise. An unconventional story told conventionally well. It respects its audience enough to avoid cheap tears. Think Howard Hawks directing a British nursing drama. That’s the spirit here—professionals doing dangerous work with grace under pressure. Not perfect. But admirably restrained in an era of excess. And Lombard radiates a quiet heroism that stays with you.