THE CINEMA
" The Bright Path." At the Tat!er.—" The Big Shot." At the Gaumont.—" Syncopation." At the RegaL—Soviet Scientific Films for future showing.
NOTHING more unexpected can ever have happened in the history of the cinema than the abrupt assumption by Soviet film-makers of leadership in the field of musical comedy at a moment in history when their country is clinging precariously to its very existence. Accidents of distance and communication account partly for the phenomenon. The films we are now seeing were made before Russia's entry into the war. And yet we are promised other out- standing work in this genre which has been completed during recent months. There can be no doubt that Russian studios have suddenly leapt ahead in a medium in which their earlier attempts were markedly undistinguished. Only in a narrow sense are these new Soviet comedies to be dismissed as "films of escape ": they are gay, but they are not empty; they have nothing to say about war, but plenty to say about the things for which wars are fought. Admittedly they are propaganda for Russia, but more importantly they are propaganda for congeniality.
The Bright Path has more in common with the earlier Volga- Volga than the possession of the same star (Lyubov Orlova) and a similar musical structure. Both films swamp the barren mustiness of the old order with a youthful and high-spirited vision of the future; laughter is used as a weapon to annihilate with the greatest of good humour the stupidity, selfishness and narrow-minded prejudice of the past. The music becomes a rallying call for the new generation.
The story of The Bright Path is Cinderella brought up to date so faithfully by director Akxandrov that, judging by the Tatler pro- gramme, some Communist Party members have been worried by the retention of so many of the symbols of bourgeois ideology. The kitchenmaid is freed from her drudgery by the Party organiser in the local weaving factory. A belated, education gives her such ambition that she finishes up operating two hundred machines at once, becomes a Stakhanovite, an Order-bearer, a Deputy of the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. and the bride of the factory engineer. But all this she achieves with such a sense of humour, ingenious and tough by turns, that only a chronic dyspeptic will be worried about the probabilities. Lyubov Orlova has a great screen future before her. She has a colourful voice and a gift of eloquent pantomime strangely reminiscent of Mary Pickford at her best.
The Russians appear to be employing much bigger and more elaborate sets than we have seen in their Mins before—the vast vistas of the factory are worthy of any Hollywood super-production —and projected backgrounds have prepared the way for elaborate moving camera shots ; but the musical structure of the film is delightfully simple by Hollywood standards. A single melody, good enough to stand frequent repetition, is the backbone of the score, whilst the comedy situations give rise to modest but appro- priate ingenuities of musical setting.
Once more it seems—as in the case of Volga-Volga—that Rene Clair, rather than Hollywood, is providing the inspiration for these new Soviet comedies. Clair's French work was propagandist in the same sense (remember Le Million and A Nous La Liberte), and it is worth considering whether Clair's neglected talents might not be- utilised by his present Hollywood masters to solve the problem of wartime screen entertainment. Some people want propaganda films, some people want gay films : might not Clair take a refresher course by looking at a few recent Russian films and then give us gay Propaganda to suit everyone.
Humphrey Bogart is at his best in The Big Shot. The story is an unoriginal melodrama about a gangster whose decent instincts prove too strong for success in his exacting profession. There is a gaol-break, a chase and a street battle which exceed in detailed realism the average run of such excitements. Mr. Bogart (this time relieving the tension of impending catastrophe with a warmly played little piece of connubial comedy) once more gives credibility to a most improbable narrative by sheer force of screen personality.
Syncopation makes a conscientious attempt by means of a jejune little story to explain what it is some people like about "jazz," " syncopated " or " swing " music. The attempt gets embarrassingly lost in religion, psychology, sociology and rank mysticism, but the unhonoUred trumpet-player (Jackie Cooper) eventually finds an audience and a very attractive bride (Bonita Granville) and the music Will please those who like it, even if the reason for their pleasure remains unexplained. The most remarkable film of the week was shown privately to a
combined meeting of the Society for Cultural Relations with Soviet Russia and the Association of Scientific Workers. It is a clear and detailed record of experiments by Professor Bryukhonenko in the revival of organisms. The 01 shows a dog's head which has been cut from the body and through which blood is being pumped by an artificial heart. The head continues to react to external stimuli, such as those of sound and taste, and cocks its ears and licks its lips in a completely life-like manner. The future significance of the work is made dear by a second experiment. A dead dog, from which all blood has been drained, is brought back to life and full health by making its organs function again with an artificial lung and an artificial heart, which pumps the dog's blood back into its veins and is disconnected when normality is restored. In the same programmel. films made with lucidity and imagination on more ele- mentary scientific problems, and intended for lay audiences, sug- gested that the Russians are ahead of us in utilising the screen for
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