You know how men are about the war. Overgrown boys.
Having started the year with Nazi Agent, director Jules Dassin finished out 1942 with Reunion in France, which details how the Nazi occupation of Paris affects the extremely wealthy Joan Crawford, a woman who's constantly being told how beautiful and elegant she is. As the film opens she's being seen off by her beau, industrialist Philip Dorn, who's helping coordinate the country's defenses, but while Joan's sunning herself in the south they're overrun by newsreel footage and when she returns it is to a very different Paris.
In short order, Joan finds her house has been commandeered and her fiancé appears to be a collaborator. Furthermore, all her old haunts are now havens for Nazis (including the future Mrs. Thurston Howell III, Natalie Schafer, as a German socialite). Dorn's even on a first-name basis with the head of the Gestapo (John Carradine), which is a real turn-off and brings out the firebrand in her. (I lost count of how many times she's threatened with being shot, but we know that's never going to happen because she's the star.) Eventually she winds up taking a job (gasp!) and harbors a downed American pilot (John Wayne) who's rather matter-of-fact about having escaped from a concentration camp. Her plan to get him out of the country involves having him pose as her chauffeur (I don't think I've ever seen him look as ridiculous as he does in that outfit), but complications set in when the brash flyboy falls for her. It's not a great film, but you haven't lived until you've seen John Wayne make goo-goo eyes at Joan Crawford. It's a sight that only comes along once in a lifetime.