The cinema : 1952 (1952)

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172 THE CINEMA Most of all I should like to meet again the nameless child who cried so as his carriage went hurtling, step by step, down the stairway. He is now twenty years old. Where is he? What is he doing? Did he defend Odessa? Is he buried now somewhere far on the estuary, in a fraternal grave? Or perhaps he is working in free Odessa, Odessa reborn? I do remember the names of some of the people who took part in the mass scene on the Odessa stairway. But for special reasons. Directors sometimes resort to what you might call a Bonapartist method. It is known that Napoleon used to ask his soldiers about some one of their comrades-in-arms and then astound the latter by his intimate knowledge of the soldier's home life. 'How is your fiancee Louise?' ' And how are the old folks, your dear mother Rosalie and industrious Tibeau, faring at Saint Tropese?' 'Has your aunt Justine recovered from the gout?' The crowd plunges down the stairs. More than two thousand feet run down the steps. The first time isn't so bad. The second time is less energetic. The third is even sluggish. Then suddenly, from up in the director's tower, through his shining trumpet, above the noise of running feet, of shuffling boots and sandals, sounds the blast of Jericho, the director's admonishing voice : ' Comrade Prokopenko, can't you put a little more speed into it?'