***SPOILERS*** The film "The Clock" ends where it began at the vast spacious and impersonal Pennsylvania Train Station in NYC as we see Alice, Judy Garland, disappear as the camera pull away and she's become just a small speck in the mass of humanity milling around there.

During the proceeding 48 hours Alice met by chance a young soldier Joe, Robert Walker, on a two-day pass before he's to be shipped over the Atlantic to England and eventually to the bloody battlegrounds in France and Germany to fight in the European Theater of War. During that time Alice and Joe fall in love have a whirlwind romance take a night-time sight-seeing ride of the city on a milk truck with milkman Al Henry (James Gleason),whom they helped in making his early morning deliveries. Later after getting married the two leave each other, Joe for the European battlefield and Alice for her home and job, knowing that it was fate that brought them together and it will be fate, that in the end, will bring them back together again after the war is over.

A very cute and adorable 22 year-old Judy Garland in her first adult, as well as non-singing, role playing Alice the type of girl that every GI would want to have waiting for them back home. Robert Walker is very effective as the naive and befuddled small town boy in the big city who finds, among the millions of people living and working there, the one girl that he's always been looking for to bring home and meet the parents as well as marry.

Touching little wartime romance involving two persons from totally different backgrounds and localities who would have never met if it wasn't for circumstances beyond their control, WWII, that in a strange and mysterious way brought them together more then anything else ever could. Besides the touching and poignant story and wonderful chemistry between the two top stars, Judy Garland & Robert Walker, "The Clock" was beautifully photographed with a stunning and nostalgic look at war-time, 1945, New York City. The film also brought out the people who lived there and how the war affected them and those that went "Over There" as well as those who were soon to go "Over There" to fight, and possibly die, "Over There".

There was a very touching scene at a almost empty church with Alice and Joe quietly taking the vows of matrimony that would bring you, like it did them, to tears. This after the chaotic scene at the Justice of the Peace office in City Hall that had Alice wondering if she did, in marrying Joe, the right thing in the first place P.S She Did.

Maybe the most idyllic of those ‘40s movies that confected a storybook New York City on the back lots of Hollywood studios, The Clock tells the story of a whirlwind wartime romance so simply and deftly that it's almost mythic – like a legend Ovid might have recounted. It also preserves the first adult dramatic role, with nary a note nor a time-step, Judy Garland was to undertake, under the Lubitsch-like touch of her director (and new husband) Vincente Minnelli. Trusting his wife to hold the screen on her own merits, he toned down or tossed away the busy stage business so characteristic of the decade, ending up with something purified – close to perfect.

Indiana small-town boy Robert Walker, on a short leave from the Army before being shipped overseas, loiters in Pennsylvania Station when Garland trips over his gangly legs and breaks a heel. It's classic MGM `meet-cute,' but Minnelli doesn't milk it – they get the heel fixed and find themselves strolling through Manhattan. Though on the verge of diplomatically ditching him, impatient with his diffident, aw-shucks ways, Garland politely hangs on until finally she has to catch a bus home; she consents to meet him later, under the clock at the Astor Hotel, for a real date.

Her chatterbox of a roommate upbraids her for letting herself be `picked up' by a man in uniform, and Garland dithers but finally shows up half a hour late. They spend a stiff evening together, filled with awkward pauses and edgy moments of friction, but end up talking under the stars in Central Park. Having missed the last bus home, they accept a lift from a milkman. In a sequence that comes close to cliché but pulls up short, they spend the night together – delivering bottles throughout the city for their suddenly incapacitated driver. Next morning, they lose one another, thanks to the subway system, ultimately reunite and, after running an obstacle course festooned with red tape, marry, confident that the future will find them reunited once more.

There's not much incident, much action, and what there is Minnelli metes out judiciously. As a drunk who precipitates the incident that throws them together for the night, Keenan Wynn contributes a bravura turn (surely improvised) that teeters on the borderline between funny and obnoxious. As the milkman and his wife, who feeds them a farmhands' breakfast, James and Lucile Gleason offer the young lovers a preview of how young lovers become old friends (as well they might, since the actors were one another's spouses).

Only in the difficulties they encounter in trying to get hitched – licenses, blood tests, civil servants' prerogatives – does the does the story threaten to careen off into frantic farce. But Minnelli reaches beyond that to find the urgency, the sickening sense that they might fail – and Garland heart-wrenchingly sums it up afterwards, at an ominously quiet wedding dinner at an automat, when she cries `It was so...ugly!' But after that discordant note Minnelli, ever the Italian, strives for consonance, and finds it in an empty church where Garland and Walker softly recite the marriage ceremony in a pew. Here, Minnelli adds his own benediction: An altar boy obscures the silent couple, sitting quietly in the background, as he enters to extinguish the candles, one by one.

Two tragic, wonderful performers, Robert Walker and Judy Garland, star as a soldier and the girl he meets in "The Clock," a wartime love story also starring James Gleason, Lucille Gleason, Ruth Brady, Marshall Thompson, and Keenan Wynn.

Joe (Walker),on leave before he ships out, is in the big city when he meets Alice (Garland) as the heel falls off of her shoe on an escalator. His charm and enthusiasm soon overcome her, and before she knows it, she's agreed to spend time with him. They embark on an adventure which takes them to the museum and Central Park, where they meet milkman Gleason and end up delivering his products when he is accidentally knocked in the face by a drunk (Keenan Wynn) in a coffee shop. When day dawns, Alice and Joe come to a realization.

This is a frenetic, high-energy movie, beautifully orchestrated by Vincente Minnelli, who manages to keep the tender love story in focus as the couple dashes around New York, losing one another, finding one another, doing a milk run, the pace picking up and becoming even more frantic as they race against the clock towards the end of the film. Then it all stops, and there is calmness and silence as "The Clock" draws to a close.

The clock is a symbol of the limited time they have together, and a symbol of their meeting place - under the clock at the Astor Hotel - and where they find one another after one makes it on the subway and the other doesn't. It's a haunting symbol as Minnelli vividly paints a New York atmosphere with its crowds and bustling with the underpinning of World War II. And imagine - you could go into Central Park at night in the '40s and come out alive.

Judy Garland, in the same studio as Lana Turner, Ava Gardner, and many other beauties, probably never appreciated what made her beautiful. In "The Clock," "The Pirate," and "Meet Me in St. Louis," she is at her loveliest, slender and luminous with enormous eyes and a sweet, girlish, vulnerable quality. Walker, who would be bloated and dead six years after this film's release, was doubtless still reeling from problems in his private life when he made this film, but he is handsome, deft with a line, and brimming with youth. He and Garland make a wonderful couple.

It's sad to think about what happened to these actors, but one is confident about the characters in "The Clock." Released in 1945, the war would soon be over, and Garland's ending monologue (originally to be said by Walker) rings true. "Whoever is making the arrangements is doing pretty well by us," she says. Too bad it wasn't the same for them in real life.