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Cross. Whilst thus engaged, she was persuaded to undertake espionage work on behalf of the British, causing cylinder dumps to be blown up and sending information which led to Allied aircraft bombing German troops at prayer. At length, her duplicity (or heroism, according to taste) was discovered by the Town Kommandant, but she contrived to avoid the extreme penalty by amazing good fortune. Such is the material from which the film scenario is constructed, with suitable additions in the form of a love-interest and a bawdy week-end at Brussels.
Here we tread carefully. As was expected, there is no attempt to show the unvarnished truth of war nor even its stupidity. The cause of wars is assiduously ignored, and from this view point the picture has no social value. But, acutely self-conscious of his difficult theme, Saville has laid the guilt of war barbarity equally with each conflicting army. The Germans employ poison gas in the field while the British drop bombs on their enemies at prayer. So far, so good. Among the opening titles, however, is a prefatory note by no less a worthy than Winston Churchill, from which we gather that the job of a spy is gallant, courageous, and heroic, enlisting at outset our sympathy for Marthe and "her side." I wonder if that same tribute would have been included had Martha been of English nationality, for only recently it was proclaimed from every rooftop that no Englishman, or was it Briton, could be guilty of espionage. This apart, a final note of patriotism is struck in the closing sequence when the British occupy the evacuated Roulers and Miss Carroll's face lights up with ecstatic joy as the pipers lead the procession. We cry ' ' For England and the Right."
Technically, there is much to offend if reckoning be made of the picture's cost. Saville's camera approach is frank and industrious, the set-ups being chosen on pictorial rather than dramatic context grounds. When his camera drops low, I failed to observe its significance. Admittedly, he has not been aided photographically. The presentation of the Roulers set built at Welwyn Garden City does not do justice to its architect. The long shots are grey and poorly exposed. The marching of troops is dull and repetitive. Of cutting for dramatic import I noticed little, but deplored the constant use of wipe-dissolves to cover the weak continuity. The direction of players seemed uncontrolled. Veidt assumed his usual dominance. Carroll tried bravely, sometimes looked attractive, but broke down before Veidt's superiority. Nevertheless, she remains perhaps England's only intelligent woman star. Marshall was not permitted to forget his canopy value, and the part might well have been given to a lesser-known player. Of the smaller roles, I have nothing but praise, except that Calthrop's barnstorming methods are becoming tedious.
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