THE CINEMA
Rangers of Fortune at the Plaza appears to be a sophisticated Tans:a:ion of William Wyler's famous early sound-film, Hell's. fkroes. Whereas the latter dealt with the efforts of a gang of orderers to save the life of a baby found abandoned in the Arizona desert, the present film makes the desperadoes a little leas than assassins, and therefore, by modern standards, positively glowing with haloes (especially as their leader is Fred MacMurray). The baby, too, is replaced by a tough little virago— a new screen discovery called Betty Brewer. This young lady is to Shirley Temple what Cagney is to Nelson Eddy. She has, more- over, considerable acting ability of a really natural type; and this we had better enjoy while we can, before the stereotypists translate her into that particular purgatory which has hitherto been reserved for the Dead End Kids. Rangers of Fortune is directed with a good deal of wit and rather too much leisureliness by Sam Wood ; and it provides a welcome reappearance of that fine actor josepli Schildkraut.
But the most gratifying item in the Plaza programme is a long-overdue revival of The Dentist, one of the series of two-reel comedies in which W. C. Fields made his name, and which he has probably never bettered in his later full-length productions. These early films were pre-eminently studies in that macabre surrealism which attached itself to cinema way back in the early days of slapstick comedy, and which, thank goodness, has never rea!ly disappeared. The Fields formula, as revealed in the few short comedies he made, is simple. He invariably appears as a specialist with a grudge against his own job, be it as a drug-store manager or, as in this case, a dentist. Seeking relief from his work in the sport of golf, he finds only further frustration ; and his domestic life is made riotous by an abominable daughter who is either in love with the ice-man or has a passion for eating canaries raw. In the midst of all this Fields moves with measured tread, dealing shrewd and horrible blows at all human beings who cross his path, whether in the way of business or of sport. So convinced is he of the general malevolence of providence that he is seldom at a loss. Note, in The Dentist, his masterly use of a stethoscope to detect the mouth of a bushy-bearded patient ; note, too, that he has a shotgun handy to destroy the birds which fly out of the same beard under the gruelling impact of his " Number 407 buzz-saw drill."
BASIL WRIGHT.
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