Wicked Lady

It is to be hoped that the exhibitors of this film have suitably rewarded a certain critic for his inimitable effort in advertising on their behalf. As a result, the public of Wellington have flocked to it ever since hoping to be shocked by this supposedly spicy entertainment. They must have been disappointed. The film was disreputable alright, but the greater part of the action was so flat and unconvincing that those little gasps of virtuous horror they had come to produce were absolutely impossible. What a flop! What a delusion! The emotions were entirely unaffected.

The story is punk. The hero (?) Roger Skelton dishes his fiancée to marry her girl friend who thus becomes Lady Skelton (the wicked one). The dished fiancée is maid of honour at the wedding, and remains as housekeeper. Thereafter it is difficult to decide to whom Roger is really married. Lady Skelton then proceeds to lead her wicked life: impersonates a highwayman, meets him, murders people who get in her road, and finally gets killed herself. This cleans everything up leaving Roger to marry his true love. Presumably they live happily for evermore.

No doubt there was a modicum of noteworthy items in the picture—most pictures have a few—but only two pierced the general boredom. Firstly the crowd scene at the hanging, and secondly, the shots from the back of the fire place of the butler and Lady Skelton.

The film has no further redeeming features.

Orchestra Debut

We have just witnessed the inaugural concert of an orchestra which may well be described as the finest heard in this country since the visit of Verbrugghen and the NSW State Orchestra in 1029. The new National Symphony Orchestra, under the baton of Mr. Anderson Tyrer, demonstrated beyond doubt that the capabilities of its selected players are very high.

The most ardent objector to the appointment of Mr. Tyrer as organiser must concede that in the short space of time he has had to coordinate and polish the work of the members of the team, a very fine job of work has been done. He has spared no-one, and the fruit of his determination and enthusiasm is borne in the 130-odd works, including 30 symphonies and major works, which comprise the repertoire after only five months of individual and group practice.

Solo work was admirably performed. It was sheer pleasure to hear the intricacies of wood-wind, brass and string passages in the Rhapsody of Enesco, and in the technically difficult tone poem, Till Eulenspiegel (R. Strauss).

As an overall criticism, however, one point must be raised. Although enthusiasm may explain the intense and vigorous treatment of almost every item, it is to be hoped that, as practice continues, a more subtle and reasoned approach will be made to passages marked piano, and to the orchestral accompaniment of solos.

Now that we have the nucleus of a permanent musical institution in New Zealand, let us hope that further steps towards a National [unclear: Conserva Jwrium] are not far distant.

The Captive Heart

This is an excellent film based on the lives of prisoners in a British P.O.W. camp in Germany. It is not a record of adventure and mighty deeds but one of a dreary monotonous captivity borne with unquenchable belief in a dubious and far distant victory.

The story concerns Michael Redgrave, who as a Czech, while escaping from the Gestapo, impersonates a dead British officer. He is captured and is suspected by his fellow prisoners but proves his identity. To avoid suspicion of the authorities he writes to his impersonatee's wife and falls in love with her. He is repatriated and joins her. Other sub-themes of almost equal importance carry this story along.

The treatment is admirably restrained. It could have been spoiled by a display of lush sentimentality. A good beginning culminates with an ending that is quite effective but not entirely convincing. Apparently everybody lived happily ever after.

The camera flashes back continually from home life to prison camp, perhaps too well, for there is a constant sense of action—of something brewing. This is a fault. The story of the film takes place over a period of years, yet we do not fully get that atmosphere of dreariness that must have pervaded the camp at times. The same stodgy food, that same deadly monotony, those petty irritations which must at times have made life almost unbearable. Things were portrayed as happening just a little too easily—the right time, the right place for everything. The lighting was perhaps at fault in creating this atmosphere. Everything was too bright, too summery. Slightly less light with a correspondingly more somber background would have dampened this effect of apparent ease.

These slight defects, however, do not spoil what is otherwise a good film. It is worth seeing.