Of Hitchcock's many meanderings into the human psyche, this "Freudian slip" of his has arguably stood the test of time least well – despite, or perhaps because, it was also the most outright. The mystery is Gregory Peck's brain, and the detective is the enamoured Ingrid Bergman. She's surrounded by condescending wiseacres telling her all the mistakes she's making because of her infatuation and sex. It's all very didactic. Hitchcock tries to help things along by treating us to a number of creative shots which are meant to intensify the non-stop psycho-babble – which unfortunately is what most of the script comes off as today. Peck and Bergman do their best to keep on top and make their relationship credible, which of course it isn't (except for in real-life, as it were), but the real problem here is that the film relies too heavily on psychological theories and concepts which have long since been more or less debunked. What remains when viewed today are the film's interest of curiosity along with a handful of unintended amusing scenes, such as the hilarious skiing scene towards the end.