This is a very sweet little thing. Guy’s interior shots aren’t nearly as dynamic or interesting as her exteriors. (Not to criticize; a number of year later no less a man than Griffith will have the same struggle.) Here they go on rather, and the dramatic or narrative sense of the scenes can also get somewhat garbled. Look at all of those gallic gestures! The frames are dullish, until they get to the church and Ms. Guy brings her communicants in from behind the camera. Those simple devices always seem to work. Whence this miracle? If it doesn’t stand up logically —when do miracles have to do that?—or theologically, it’s still a pretty dream come true, and why should we despise that? Very sweet.