On the whole, Deep Valley is reminiscent of many of the solemn little-theater plays of the early '20s: i.e., it is lost in mawkishness and pseudopoetic feeling masquerading as art.

A production which fails for the lack of just the right casting.

The film comes to a boil with its very moving conclusion, after a very slow start.

Ain't no valley low enough - Ain't no river wide enough. Deep Valley is directed by Jean Negulesco and adapted to screenplay by Stephen Morehouse Avery and Salka Viertel from the novel written by Dan Totheroh. It stars Ida Lupino, Dane Clark and Wayne Morris. Music is by Max Steiner and cinematography by Ted McCord. Libby Saul (Lupino) lives in a run down farm house with her unfeeling and estranged parents. Having developed a stammer due to her stmyied life, her only solace comes from walking in the woods with her dog. Then one day she happens upon a convict work party and takes interest in one of them, Barry Burnette (Clark). He's free too... Off the bat you have to be warned that this is very slow going for the first two thirds - almost painfully so. So with the story hardly being compelling in the first instance, or credible of course, it's on shaky ground and becomes tough to recommend with confidence. However, there's plenty to enjoy as it plods along and the final third is well worth waiting for. The whole look of the piece is an atmospheric delight, McCord bringing some monochrome magic. The inside of the cottage is oppressive, director and cinematographer neatly marrying the visuals up to how Libby feels. Other scenes are pure visual treats, such as out in the barn as the sunlight shines through gaps in the wood to reveal a ghostly mist, or subtle shots like river…