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reference to heaven. Halcyon horizons must be strictly de Mille.
From the French studios themselves, there is only Le Grand Jeu to take account of: a Beau Geste affair by Feyder out of Algeria and the legionnaires. It is an efficient performance with fine acting by Feyder's wife, Francoise Rosay, and proves that the French cinema can occasionally make a film as well as Hollywood. But this tragedy of a young man who, abandoned by a mercenary mistress, finds a better hearted double in the Sahara, is hardly important. Feyder has lost the command of atmosphere which made Atlantide great ten years ago.
What a fine film in comparison to all these is La Chienne, a threeyear old Renoir which is still running, and what a pity it is the censor in England has banned it. It is sentimental in part, with its story of a bank clerk who falls in love with a prostitute and finally murders her, but in the total effect of its descriptive realism and finely built action, it is a great film — the greatest Renoir has done. The murder scene is near to Dostoievsky.
Renoir is not working. Feyder is not working. Jean Lods has had to find asylum in Russia. Jean Vigo is too ill to work. Epstein and Clair are tossing fanfares in the commercial circuit. Cavalcanti in England seems to have found freedom to experiment and carry on the tradition of the old days. He gave a private show of Pett and Pott recently, at the F.I.F. theatre on the Champs Elysees. The audience rose to its many innovations of sound, and it was a great personal triumph for him.
AMERICA
At the present time, when within the movie industry it is practically impossible to produce a vital picture, mystery stories offer promising material to the creative director. Innocuous stuff for the most part, mysteries seldom provoke the antagonism of censors, sensitive patriots, religious, moral and political traditionalists, and other powerful groups. Their plots are exciting, clear cut, and visual rather than intellectual. And because they generally make money, the producer is inclined to allow the director more than usual freedom. Thus it is that two of the best directed Hollywood films of the last quarter are mysteries, Fog Over Frisco, directed by William Dieterle, and The Thin Man, directed by W. S. Van Dyke.
R.K.O., having experimented in Technicolor for some time, has recently produced a colour short, Cucharacha (cockroach), named after the popular Mexican song which is worked into the story. The plot is stereotyped and inconsequential. The direction is pro
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