TI-IE CINEMA
"The Seventh Veil." At the Leicester Square. • The Road to
Utopia." At the Carlton.—" Indiscretion." At the Warner.
The Seventh Veil is an event in the development of the British film industry. Firstly, it is as smooth a piece of popular entertainment as our studios have turned out for a long time ; secondly, as the first film of a new production unit it holds promise of future develop- ment; and, thirdly, it presents us with an actress really worthy of that much-abused epithet "film star." As Francesca Cunningham, world-famous concert pianist, Ann Todd arrives fully fledged as an actress of great ability, intelligence and beauty. This combination is a rare event, and she is fortunate in having a cameraman who has been able to do her full justice and a director who, marvel of marvels, has treated his heroine in an adult manner. The story, which starts well and then cannot quite maintain its own high stan- dard, is well constructed and is helped by extremely sensible dia- logue. The pianist is suffering from a complete mental breakdown. Under narcosis, a psychiatrist uncovers the story of her life, which is told to us in a series of flash-backs. She has been starved of affection and understanding while a child, is obsessed with the idea that her hands will be injured and that she will be unable to continue her work, and she is emotionally embroiled with three men. This tangle is eventually unravelled and makes an entertaining story. The supporting cast is particularly good, Herbert Lom being out- standing as the psychiatrist, and there is a neat sketch of a pin-headed young woman by Yvonne Owen. There are also several extremely well-handled concert sequences, and through it all the pleasure of watching a beautiful performance by Ann Todd. I look ft•rward to the next film made by Compton Bennett, Reginald Wycr and Sidney Box, respectively director, cameraman and producer. The fabulous trio of Hope. Crosby and Lamour are with us again, and this time their road takes them to Utopia. Never so good apart as they are together, like bacon and eggs, rum and pineapple or pan- cakes and lemon, they are, in this film, funnier than they have ever been. Thlt■c_harming catalyst, Dorothy Lamour, who has the power of remaining unchanged whilst she transforms her two com- panions into inspired comedians, helps the film enormously. She treats the story with great seriousness, spurs everyone on to even wilder deeds, and thus provides a perfect foil to the general insanity. To try and tell you the plot would be absurd ; Robert Benchlev
sets out to do it, but eventually gives up and, from his vantage point in the top left-hand corner of the screen, cheers the villains on as they chase Hope and Crosby across the frozen wastes of Alaska. It is all most excellently comic, and I enjoyed it tremendously.
Indiscretion could have done with a lot more lunacy. Barbara Stanwyck plays the part of one of those infuriatingly perfectionist magazine writers. You know the sort of thing in which a woman writes about her farm and how she looks after the child and puts the cow to bed, keeps up with her reading, is a good wife, thinks beautiful thoughts and still has time to prepare six-course meals which include souffles, sauce bearnaise and exotic stuffings. The whole set-up exists only in her imagination and she has suddenly to provide it all in order to keep her job. It was a good idea, but unhappily there is a serious love interest, not enough comic inven- tion, and the pace of the whole film is far too slow. The food
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