THE CINEMA
" Ships With Wings," March of Time. At the Gaumont.— " Special Dispatch." Generally released.
THERE was a devil-may-care young naval officer whose motto was " Love 'em and leave 'em," but one day along comes true love in the person of the Admiral's daughter. So great is his devotion for he that he disobeys orders, causes her brother's death and is dismissed in disgrace from the Service. Away he goes to forget, the Admiral's daughter marries a brother officer and our hero, shunning the company of his fellow-men, becomes a piece of human flotsam on a Greek island. But fate is to provide him with a last opportunity to serve his country. It is war, and the old squadron is about to attack the enemy in the Mediterranean. In a dire emergency, the Admiral himself calls upon the man who killed his son to take the place of a fallen officer. Our hero does not fail us twice. Single-handed, he destroys the enemy and wins the battle for the honour of the old ship. And there we might leave this time-honoured lath-and- plaster legend were the ship in question not identifiable as the ' Ark Royal ' and the background of the story not taken from the current exploits of the Fleet Air Arm. And since those exploits are no laughing matter, it. is a pity that they have been identified in this film with a story which could not conceivably be taken seriously in time of war. There are compensations in that genuine scenes of the ' Ark Royal' in operation do from time to time appear amongst the models and where a lapse of time is necessary in the personal narrative. There are good scenes of aircraft landing and taking off, and an excellent sequence showing aircraft moving up on lifts from the hangars on to the flight deck. The precise routine of operation, the shouts from man to man of " Swordfish coming up! " or " Skua coming up! " the speed with which bombs or torpedoes can be loaded and the carrier can disgorge 'planes like angry bets from a hive, all these real things are magnificent—and as incongruous as loaded pistols in a musical comedy duel.
The problem of realistic British war-reporting for the screen is becoming a serious one. The Nazis, in such films as Baptism of Fire, or War in the East, are shoWing their front-line forces in action, and their story needs no embellishment with actors and a nineteenth-century plot. The actual exploits of the ' Ark Royal,' if they had been recorded with the camera, could have matched any propaganda which the Nazis have been able to make for their military efficiency. There can be no doubt that our film technicians are anxious for the opportunity to substitute actual battle pictures for the model shots and staged scenes with which we too often have to be content. Only the official facilities appear to be lacking and the courage to release to the public pictures which will outweigh in propaganda or informational importance the dubious value of any information they may reveal to the enemy.
March of Time's latest release, Men of 1Iorway, contrasts sharply with Ships With Wings by sticking closely to the facts of modern war. Although a number of scenes of anti-Nazi activity in Norway have been staged, the story of how Norwegians are mobilising for freedom, both outside and inside their country, is told with conviction and sincerity. March of Time continues the excellent practice which it has recently adopted of using a variety of relevant commentating voices. The film gives two pieces of information which will surprise 'most people. It shows a Norwegian Air Force training in Canada, and claims that the movements of the ` Bismarck ' in Norwegian waters were first radioed to Britain by Norwegian patriots.
This week's Ministry of Information film is a very polished job. It was made by the Army Film Unit, and tells the story of a four-hundred of race against time by an Army despatch rider. A variety of incidents on the journey from London to Scotland are reported with a nice observation and a shrewd sense of humour. It is somewhat surprising, however—in view of the lack of front-line film material mentioned above—that the Army' Film Unit has nothing more exciting to report than a routine job, the need for which in these days of wireless and telephone
will prove puzzling to many people. EDGAR ANSTEY.
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