CONTEMPORARY ARTS
THE CINEMA
"Streets of Laredo." (Plaza.)—" Colorado Territory." (Warner.) • — Champion." (Odeon.)-- Poet's Pub." (New Gallery and Tivoli.)
Tins is "tough guy" week in the movies, when anything prissy, like conversation, yields under the weight of gun and glove. Only the smallest strain is imposed upon the mind, which can rest lethargically in the overheated skull while the eye and car browse contentedly— well, fairly contentedly—on the familiar fare offered them. There are two westerns, a boxing film, a tragedy and no surprises.
Streets of Laredo concerns three jolly bandits, Messrs. William Holden, William Bendix and Macdonald Carey. Owing to the reformation of the first two, their incorporation into the Rangers and the advent of an attractive girl, Miss Mona Freeman, Mr. Carey, who is surely out of place in such hearty surroundings, meets a sticky end. Glorious Technicolor, as always, provides the necessary flood of poster paint gore to dye the sinners scarlet. It is fretful of me, I know, but I believe that it is time the pattern of westerns Was altered, be it only a fraction. I would like, for instance the stage-coach laden with greenbacks to make just one journey without being robbed ; I would like the hero just once to mount his horse in a leisurely manner, and I can conceive of nothing more superbly imaginative than to allow the villain to die in his bed of a cold. The present formula, however garnished it may be, remains as immutable as its mathematical counterparts, and, sacrilege or not, I would like to shake it till its spurs rattle. Mr. Leslie Fenton has directed Streets of Laredo as well as the next man, but the old road he travels has not a single new turning. * * * * Still querulous, this time with Colorado Territory, I cannot help worrying over the earlier life history of its hero, Mr. Joel McCrea. How and why did he become a robber and an outlaw ? There he is, as fine a fellow as you could wish to see, kind to his friends, gentle with the ladies and full of dreams of a little farm where he can settle down to a quiet old age. Indeed, so kind and amiable is he that he feels compelled to rob just one more train to oblige a dying pal— a grave mistake. This film, like the above-mentioned western, is, of course, exciting, with lots of vehement riding, heaps of shot bodies, and Miss Virginia Mayo in an off-the-shoulder two-piece ; but Mr. McCrea's character remains bafflingly enigmatic. His solemn hand- some face betrays no signs of avarice beiust for power or even love of adventure, and one can only suppose that nobody told him in his youth that it was a bad thing to rob trains and kill people. He sets about it so virtuously. No, this is a mediocre picture. The best thing about it is the scenery, which is tremendously frightening. * * * *
I am not sure whether critics in the featherweight class, such as myself, should be allowed to review boxing films, for everything from first to last is so distasteful and one spends so much time with one's eyes closed that a balanced criticism is highly improbable. Champion, which stars Mr. Kirk Douglas, is a pugilistic tale we have seen, or perhaps I sheuld say half-seen, many times before. Hollywood has constantly proved that it shares my dislike of boxing and holds its protagonists in low esteem, and here again we have the champ, risen to fame from poverty, and abandoning on his way all the more laudable human virtues. Mr. Douglas, athirst for money and adula- tion, casts off his wife his mother, his brother, his manager and a couple of blondes. This was inevitable. We knew it from the start. When, after the fight of his life, he dies, toothless and unloved, we are not a bit surprised. But relieved ?—heavens yes!
* * * * Not even the ravishing ebullience of Miss Joyce Grenfell can raise Mr. Eric Linlclater's comedy Poet's Pub from pancake level, and it is without doubt one of the dreariest little offerings ever laid before us. Let no foreign tongue taste it, for sans citron ou sucre it is in very truth a crêpe to wear crape for. VIRGINIA GRAHAM.
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