It is the romance of Now, Voyager that is the least interesting part of the film. What remains for me as the highlights are the snappy put-downs, retorts and sarcasm in Casey Robinson's script. Between Robinson, producer Hal Wallis, cinematographer Sol Polito, and composer Max Steiner, there was enough talent to stamp Now, Voyager as a Warner Brothers film that it may not have mattered much who actually was the credited director. What makes the film rewatchable are Bonita Granville as the proto-Paris Hilton, with not much better to do than determine who's the hottie and who's the nottie, Ilka Chase as the sympathetic sister-in-law, and Mary Wilkes as the sassy nurse. Even though there is talk about marriage and children, the men, even Claude Raines, seem extraneous to most of the proceedings. The other downside of multiple viewings, especially on a larger screen, is the questions that come to mind, like why does one of the portraits in the Vale mansion look like it's of Elvis, and why do the pages from the diary of Charlotte Vale all appear as from a published book and not hand-written?

One of the benefits of DVDs is watching an English language movie with subtitles. I wanted to make sure I understood that last line of the film. Was it poetic speech or awkward grammar? This is it, as spoken by Davis to Paul Henreid: "Oh, Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon. We have the stars." I'm not sure if I even want to know what that's suppose to mean. I'll just conclude by being man enough to say that Now, Voyager is my favorite "weepie", consistently causing me to weep with laughter.