THE CINEMA
"Queen of Spades." (Warner.)--" A Yankee in King Arthur's Court." (Carlton.)—" Floodtide." (New Gallery and Tivoli.)
MR. ANATOLE DE GRUNWALD has taken Pushkin's story The Queen of Spades and turned it into one of the finest, most imaginative films to grace the screen for many a day. This classic tale concerns the obsessions of a Russian officer, his desire above all things for money, the only weapon with which he considers himself capable of per- suading the world of his importance, his frantic efforts to wrest from an aged Countess, who is reputed to have sold her soul to the devil, the secret of winning at cards, the hatintings of his crazy mind after he has accidentally killed her, final error at the gaming tables. All this is , presented to us with perfect artistry. By some magic formula the director, Mr. Thorold Dickinson, brings the St. Petersburg of 18o6 into almost tangible reality, and though the characters are set about with mystery, and the forces of evil blow in great windy sweeps across the scenes, and all that is shadowy and strange is emphasised, he holds us enthralled, believing in it all.
Mr. Anton Walbrook, looking Napoleonic in a proudly plumed hat, gives a fine interpretation of megalomania, Miss Yvonne Mitchell as the girl he pretends to love is convincing in a difficult part, Mr. Ronald Howard, handicapped by not being his father, does well as the pleasant princeling, and last, who should be first, Dame Edith Evans surpasses herself as the raddled old Countess. She is stupendous. Nevertheless I would say this film casts its spell largely by reason of its production ; by the groupings, such as in the gaming room, by a black figure against the white snow, by the glitter of the ballroom, the swish of a taffeta skirt, light and shadow, movement and stillness timed to a second to capture and hold the imagination. The settings are by Mr. Oliver Messel, and the screen-play by Messrs. Rodney Ackland and Arthur Boys. If there is a fault to be found it is that the film is over long, but the quality is such that one cannot take more than a momentary exception to the quantity.
Far, far removed, as vodka from coca-cola, is Pushkin's tragedy from Mark Twain's A Yankee at the Court of -King Arthur. This gayest of whimsies is in brightest technicolor, and carries in its flam- boyant bosom Mr. Bing Crosby, Miss Rhonda Fleming, Sir Cedric Hardwicke and Mr. William Bendix, all of whom are out to have a whale of a good time. Mr. Crosby, in doublet and hose, hits the high and low notes sweetly, with that effortless nonchalance that is so irresistible to Bing-lovers ; he also hits them often. His heroine, crowned with yards of auburn hair, is glamorous to the nth degree, and Mr. Bendix, as a very parfitt knight in very squeaky armour, is extremely funny. The honours must, however, be draped in layers around Sir Cedric whose King Arthur, permanently be-colded, testy, deafened by his subjects' trumpet-blowing and thoroughly dis- illusioned, contrives to be absolutely and entirely endearing.
* * * Floodtide is a story in the documentary style of the rise of a Scottish youth from being a plater in a shipyard to a designer of ships. It is not startling in any way, but it is workmanlike and has the value of sincerity. The eye is kept happy by the Clydeside scenes and the ear charmed by the appropriate accent, and if perhaps Mr. Gordon Jackson's mercurial success and his love affair with Miss Rona Anderson are a trifle hard to believe, these are offset by the sturdy unaffected acting of the whole cast. Everybody, from landladies to company directors, has been well observed, and Mr. Frederick Wilson's direction is simple and sound. Just as a passing' thought I would like to know how many party hostesses in real life manage, as Miss Anderson does here, to look sadly out of the window, head resting gently on curtain, thoughts far away with the absent loved one. I have often thought of leaving my own parties altogether, but have never found the exact moment to do so.
VIRGINIA GRAHAM.
Previous page
