Close Up (Jan-Jun 1930)

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CLOSE UP a year's striving to reproduce on the screen the very noises which people go to the cinema in order to forget. Let it never be said that Elstree converted its studios into sound stages for nothing, let us never assert that they bought over all the B.B.C.'s wind machines and effects experts for no mean purpose. On the contrary, they imported them for Atlantic. Much could be said about this film. It's cinematic vision, its subtle — verv subtle — rhythms, its sound-cinema distortion, its stark realism. And the way it showed the undying heroism and stoicism of the Englishman Facing Death. It w'as unfortunate we saw it within a week of the Film Society's presentation of Potemkin. As it was, there w^as a tendency to compare Dupont and Eisenstein. But only a tendency. After Atlantic Dupont stands alone. All the same, Britain produced Blackmail. Take a mental fourth dimension. Twist it around the queues outside the Empire and bake gently for three hours. Stir with the plaintive w^ails of a sound track in pain, and add a flavouring of the Wall Street crash. Serve up hot on a warm plate and a cold dog. The result is Mickey Mouse running around Anny Ondra's legs during the breakfast scene in Blackmail, with Stepin Fetchit chasing the vermin across vigorous infinitv with a worn-out disc record. Spell it out in the billion colours of The Show of Shows and the umpteen-candle power lights of the Hollywood Revue, and you find Mary Pickford sitting down suddenly in the mud, on top of a chorus girl and a dying detective. 21