By the time John Lund intones "I think this is our dance, Mother" at the end of To Each His Own, only a true curmudgeon will not have surrendered to this film, and almost everyone else will have given in long before. Judging by the elements that went into its screenplay, Each should have been just another woman's "weepie" flick, but by that strange luck of chemistry, what emerges is a truly involving and deeply felt melodrama. Yes, it's manipulative, but it's open about its manipulation, and the tugs it makes at the heartstrings are genuine and deserved. Credit for this must go to both Charles Brackett's surprisingly (for the genre) intelligent screenplay and Mitchell Leisen's superbly sensitive direction. Unusual for the time, Brackett's script is non-judgmental about its heroine's actions. She is not excoriated mercilessly for giving in to her passions, merely made to behave in a practical manner when confronted with their consequences. Indeed, Josephine Norris is a refreshingly modern and sensible woman, and one of the reasons that To Each His Own succeeds so well. Of even greater importance is the performance of the actress portraying her. Olivia de Havilland's Oscar was well deserved, even in a year that saw stiff competition from Rosalind Russell and Celia Johnson. De Havilland carries the film with a performance that contains nary a false note, and is affecting playing different ages throughout. The supporting cast, especially Roland Culver, is also noteworthy, but it's de Havilland that gets the roses -- and deservedly so.