Till the End of Time (Edward Dmytryk, 1946)

This WWII-GIs-coming-home nugget has been overshadowed by William Wyler's The Best Years of Our Lives from the same year. But while it lacks Wyler deep-focus savvy, it often matches his film in intensity and compassion. There's a scene a third of the way through that is as harrowing as any in Best Years. At a restaurant, principals Guy Madison and Dorothy McGuire notice a marine (Richard Benedict) having a breakdown. They encircle him as a de facto shield from the public and get him to stop violently shaking. It's not only a moment of supreme humanity but it's also one of the most accurate depictions of a panic attack I've ever seen in a film, especially the fear that everyone around you is watching and judging your inability to keep it together. And later in the film, Madison and his buddy Robert Mitchum beat the crap out of some racists in a bar, always a welcome sight.

There's plenty of man flesh on display too. Guy Madison is comically beautiful; he looks like a cartoon character. Lucky Ruth Nelson, playing his mom, gets to touch his foot. And Jean Porter tells Johnny Sands that he needs to put some clothes on (calm down - he's 18).