SHCHORS

New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 145, 2 April 1942, Page 14

SHCHORS

(Kiev Film Studios)

ERE again is Russian history cum propaganda, but it is much more recent history, and for that reason

perhaps the propaganda seems rather more obvious and more politicallyconscious. In other words, it is more likely to be a Red rag to some John Bulls than Alexander Nevsky could ever be, though these days I suppose the chance is fairly slight. In theme and execution, Shchors is reminiscent of Chapayev, a Soviet film released here some months ago. Like Chapayev, Nikolai Shchors was a guerilla hero of the Revolution. The son of a railway worker, he led the Ukrainian people in their long struggle, first to throw out the German army of occupation in 1917-1918, and then to beat off the attacks of the White Armies and their allies. The grim events of this epoch turned Shchors from a junior medical officer into a commander, a strategist, and the founder of a military school for the Red Army, using as a basis of instruction those Tsarist officers who were willing to co-operate with the Revolution. If you enjoy fights on the screen, whether on a large or small scaleguerilla sorties or mass _ battles-you should enjoy Shchors, though you will see nothing as exciting or spectacular (Continued on next page)

FILM REVIEWS (Continued from previous page) as the battle in Alexander Nevsky. Personally I got a little tired of them after about half-way through, as the tide of war swayed back and forth across the Ukraine, with the Reds taking a city, losing it, taking it again, and moving on to the next. Yet even so, these Soviet sham fights have a quality of realism which Hollywood seldom achieves, even in its biggest moments. More to my liking were the individual performances of Honoured Artist Y. Samilov as Shchors, and of People’s Artist I. Skuratov as Bozhenko, his jolly and indomitable first-lieutenant. As with most Russian films I have seen -and most English and American ones too, for that matter-the picture adheres to the theory of the superman, creating a heroic character for the central figure and focusing the spotlight upon it; but in spite of this, the star and the chief supporting players manage to preserve a good deal of humanity in their performances. In one instance perhaps a little too much; when Bozhenko learns of the death of his wife, his protracted paroxysms of Slavic a will, I suspect, move our more phlegmatic audiences to laughter rather than to tears. Before the picture is shown I hope somebody will get busy with the scissors on this scene, and while he is at it, he could with advantage prune a few redundant battles as well. But not, I trust, that sequence where Bozhenko, with superb irony, invites the frightened "capitalists" of Kiev, assembled in the theatre, to contribute something toward the cost of their "liberation." Dare I admit that I found this scene quite the most enjoyable thing in the picture? Lastly, if I have at the moment any general complaint against foreign films it is that trying to read the English translations on the bottom of the screen gives one such a confounded crick in the neck!