AllMovie

One wonders what as good a director as Raoul Walsh is doing on a project like Glory Alley and ultimately must assume that he just really wanted a paycheck. Glory is by no means a dreadful movie; as a matter of fact, it's moderately entertaining. But it's so clearly a film that was put together "on orders" that it seems odd that a man with Walsh's standing couldn't have begged off and been assigned a more ambitious project. Clearly, Walsh's heart isn't in Glory. He handles the crowd scenes very well, and one can tell that he has an interest in the kind of scruffy characters that inhabit the film; but for most of the project, he seems to be on automatic, intent on delivering a film that makes sense but that doesn't tax his invention or imagination. The screenplay is the culprit, a mish-mash of clichés and middling-to-poor dialogue that gets overly convoluted and features a singularly unconvincing explanation for its inciting incident. A good cast tries hard but is mostly wasted. Ralph Meeker is physically convincing as a boxer, and he puts his heart into the role, but the writing doesn't allow him to emerge a champ. Leslie Caron, fresh and youthful, is awkward in her scenes, but quite lovely when dancing; that dancing, though, has no basis in the plot, as her ballet-based moves would be derided in the fleabag joint in which she works. Kurt Kasznar has to play one note over and over (which he does well), and Gilbert Roland has little to do (which he also does well). Louis Armstrong comes off best, mostly because he's given the chance to sing and play on a couple of occasions.