THE CINEMA
"Tales from the Vienna Woods." At Studio One OF the seemingly endless flow of musical whimsies front Central Europe this is one of the more attractive. It is, of course, always, difficult to estimate how much the charm of such productions depends on their foreign atmosphere and the partial recognition of the simpler phrases of a foreign language ; and one may guess that in our own vernacular they might not rate so high. Nevertheless, the style of acting represents a real featherweight agility which is only too remote from most British film comedies, and the musical score is enjoyable in itself. In this case it is mostly Johann Strauss, who cloys on repetition, but receives a good showing at the hands of part of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. The plot is on the time- worn basis of confused identities, with a lightning anagnorisis in the last fifty feet of the film. The settings are, as usual, the Vienna which Viennese film producers think we want to see ; that is, a slightly more exotic version of the Vienna which Hollywood shows us. The photography, considering it is credited to Werner Brandes, is amazingly variable ; the stock exteriors, as recommended by Baedeker, are very poor. The acting is no more than competent, except for a beautiful performance by Leo Slezak, who, for all his exaggerations, is the only person in the film whom one might expect (and hope) to meet on a summer evening at a Viennese café. There is no more to be said, except that one may remind oneself of the history of Vienna for the last fifteen years, and ask, not impertinently, whether the Austrian film-producers might be doing more justice to themselves and the outside world by eschewing the more nostalgic reminiscences of past pleasures, and concentrating for a while on the vital social and economic problems which their country, as much as any, has now to face. In so doing, they might in triumph breed another Pabst.
BASIL WRIGHT.
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