7 DECEMBER 1934, Page 17

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR [Corre spondents are requested to keep their

letters as brief as is reasonably possible length is that of one of our " News of .the Week" paragraphs. Signed letters a.re The most suitable over those bearing a pseudonym.—Ed. THE SPECTATOR.] Then a preference CALL IN THE CINEMA !

[To the Editor of TUE SPECTATOR.] SIR,—One of the features of the Royal Wedding that added immensely to the popular interest and enjoyment was the broadcast of the Service in the Abbey. I suppose that throughout the Kingdom and throughout the Empire every- body who had a wireless tuned in for that memorable experience. Along the route of the procession many house- holders brought their sets to the open windows so that the waiting throngs below might hear, even better than if they had been in the Abbey itself, every word, of the service. The innovation was a complete and very moving success. It gave boundless pleasure to millions. It brought the Sovereign and his subjects together in a unique intimacy at one of the happiest and most auspicious moments in the annals of the Royal Family. The wireless has often been of Imperial service. It has never been put to a more appealing use than last Thursday.•

But now that this great step forward has been taken I hope it will be followed by another and- greater one. A splendid ceremony of enthralling domestic interest hag been made universally audible. I wish also it had been made universally visible. The eight photographers who were admitted to the Abbey have done their work admirably. But how much better it would have been had the cinema been called in and the whole gorgeous pageant filmed for the screen. The whole world could then have seen what actually was seen by only a fortunate few.

We. are about the only country left in Europe- that still obseivei. the pomp and stateliness of the old • days. The Royal Opening of Parliament, a Levee at St. James's Palace, a Court at Buckingham Palace are unrivalled for beauty of colour and effect, for precise and brilliant organization, - But nobody 'sees them—nobody except the prh'ileged handful who are' actually present in person. The:vaSt multitude of citizens outside, if they happen to live in London, can be spectators of the preliminaries, the comings and goings in the streets, but of the great scene that is the climax of every- thing they see nothing whatever. ,

The cinema has made it possible for all-these matchless ceremonies to- be reproduced and shown in every picture- house throughout the Empire. But officialdom; while it has recognized and utilized the wireless, still cold-shoulders the films. I am sure that is a mistake.- I am -sure that, without bringing in any harsh note of artificiality and without detracting in any way from their -dignity, these wonderful spectacles can be transferred to• the screen and send a thrill of delight among the many millions of the subjects to whom at present they are either hearsay or only known through the columns of the papers.

It used to be argued that the more the Crown- and the

Court and the Royal- Family were veiled in aloofness and mystery, the more would the monarchical instinct of our people be strengthened. The event has shown far other- wise. The immense and ever-widening devotion of all who live under the British flag to the Throne—a devotion that took so strong and fresh a lease of life at the time of the Jubilee of 1887 that it might almost be called a rebirth— has been accompanied by a well-nigh infinite- multiplication of points of contact between the Sovereign and the Royal Family on the one hand and their subjects, on .the other. -It is today as clear as--anything can be that when the heads of the House of Windsor and the- Princes and Princesses of the royal blood move familiarly among -their -people, -are visible and'approachable and proud to proclaim themselves the first servants of the State, monarchy is not. cheapened thereby, but on the contrary its influence and-_ prestige are

immeasurably enhanced.

The best and by far the most popular broadcaster in the Empire—it is right that -someone should say this, as publicly as possible—is the King himself.; and the :value of his oecasional-addresses- to his subjects is beyond all computation as -a- -reinforcement of the links- of personal. loyalty and attachment to the Throne that bind the whole Empire together. The King has been heard, the fine resonant tones of his voice are known, wherever the Union Jack waves. If now he would consent to be seen, in his robes of State, discharging his regal duties, the central figure, together with

the Queen, of the various ceremonies that pivot on the

Sovereign and the Court. there is not the smallest question in my mind, nor, I should say, ,in the mind of anyone who

knows our people at home and throughout the Empire, that the result could only be to buttress and amplify the devotion of all his subjects to their supreme. ruler and to the Empire and the institutions over which he presides. But there is a further argument—we are not being fair to those who will conic after us when we omit to call in the cinema to place on permanent record its presentation of these historic spectacles. What would we not give for a film of Queen Victoria's first Court ? What would posterity not give for a coloured picture, taken on the spot, of such a e.cremony as marked, for instance, the Duke of Kent's introduction to the House of Lords or his wedding last week ? The film has been working now for over thirty years. We ought by this time to have amassed a quite invaluable store of pictures for the delight and instruction of the future. Instead we have nothing or next. to nothing.

There is all the more reason why Parliament and the Court and the. film industry should take this' matter into

early consideration, because next year we shall all be celebrating thm twenty-fifth anniversary of the King's Accession,, and it will be ten thousand pities if no record is made—such as the cinema and the cinema alone can supply— of the many pageants and ceremonies that will be engaging the hearts and interest of all British subjects..—I am, Sir,