Vera Cruz cost three million dollars to make and in
the course of its production 1,100 people were injured. This in itself, of course, is very stimulating news, and one can be forgiven for expecting great things. Unfortunately, how- ever, the old proverb, enough is as good as a feast, has not been heeded, and there is such a plethora of corpses, such a superfluity of deadly accidents the effect is risible rather than exciting. Set in the Emperor Maximilian's Mexico, the story relates the efforts of two violent men, Gary Cooper and Burt Lancaster, to lay their hands on a heap of imperial gold which is being bounced along in a coach to Vera Cruz. The Juanistas also want it, for their rebellion, and Denise Dared, who happens to be sitting on it wants it to buy some dresses in Paris. Everybody is trigger-happy and every- body is vile, so that there is scarcely a moment free from physical violence, and although this is admirably handled by Robert Aldrich, sabres, lances, rifles and fists knocking the com- pany off cliffs, rooftops, horses and feet with acrobatic fervour until only Mr. Cooper is left looking stunned, it would have been to the advantage of the film if mayhem had ceded little space to suspense. Young at Heart is a friendly and attrac- tive musical starring Doris Day, a fresh sprig of a cosy family tree, and Frank Sinatra, a pathologically bitter piano player. The story is. perhaps, foolish, but both the stars give such fine performances and Mr. Sinatra sings One for my Baby with such exquisite disillusion- ment, any complaints savour of the pernickety.
Love, we know, blossoms in the most unex- pected places, but all the same London Air- port strikes one as an improbable spot for a coup de foudre between two passing passen- gers. Perhaps because Out of the Clouds is so busy showing us how busy Heathrow is, the blinding love of David Knight, going to Israel, fbr Margo Lorcnz, going to New York, seems as implausible as its development is tedious. This is one of Ealing's least successful ventures, a superficial survey of the lives and jobs of a number of people, not one of whom is interesting or. except for a three-second appearance of Nicholas Phipps, amusing. The documentary side is somewhat confused, and the bnly point of drama is found at the landing of a• plane in a fog. Anthony Steel, Robert Beatty and James Robertson Justice plod on diligently through their muddy scripts; Mr. Knight, whom I greatly admire, and Miss Lorenz try not to embarrass with the bathos of theirs, but it is of no avail. Michael Relph and Basil Dcarden, the co-directors, usually so skilled and imaginative, seem to have become- temporarily grounded, and only Richard Addinsell's music is airborne.
VIRGINIA GRAHAM
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