SALOME, WHERE SHE DANCED

New Zealand Listener, Volume 14, Issue 339, 21 December 1945, Page 18

SALOME, WHERE SHE DANCED

(Universal)

HILE I ordinarily do not believe in reviewing films simply by telling their stories, in the present case I think a bare recital of this produc-

tion’s extraordinary plot will be sufficient to ihdicate its merits (if one may be excused for using that term in this context). It begins with General Robert E. Lee, on the point of surrendering to General Grant, telling a young Confederate soldier (David -Bruce) that "we must move with the ages." This injunction is apparently misunderstood, for it has the effect of turning the young man into a two-gun bandit who terrorises the Wild West. The surrender is also witnessed by Count von Bohlen, an early example of a Beast of Berlin, who is picking up hints on how not to fight a war on behalf of Chancellor von Bismarck, as well as by an American journalist (Rod Cameron) who is picking up titbits for his column in Leslie’s Weekly. From here we go to Berlin, where the American journalist, in an ‘effort to "scoop" the news of the opening of the Austro-Prus-sian war, is busy insulting Bismarck and von Bohlen. He also persuades Anna Maria (Yvonne de Carlo) to turn spy and worm State Secrets out'of von Bohlen. Anna Maria is a ballet-dancer (of sorts) who emerges, all radiant in Technicolour, from a sea-shell to the strains of "The Blue Danube." She agrees to become a spy because she has given her (continued on next page)

€continued from previous page) heart to Kurt, Prince of the Habsburgs; but Kurt stops a cannon-ball in the first battle and dies spectacularly in’ Technicolour. So the American journalist biffs von Bohlen on the head in the nick of time and takes Anna Maria ard her dancing-master back to the States with him where he presents her, still in Gorgeous Technicolour, at a premiere in the little mining-town of Drinkman’s Wells, California. She does a Salome dance and, without even removing a single veil, is a riot among the crude, unlettered miners; but the performance is interrupted by Cleve, the Bandit (the lad who took General Lee too literally). He carriés off Salome as well as the boxoffice takings. But Cleve reminds her strongly of Kurt, her lost lover (in fact; it’s the same actor), so she restores his faith in human nature by crooning "Der Tannenbaum" (same tune as "The Red Flag") beside the camp-fire, This, for some reason, makes him remember Christmas in Old Virginny; the celestial choir strikes up "Come All Ye Faithful’; and Cleve returns Salome as well as the cash to their rightful owners, The miners are so agreeably surprised that they rename their town Salome, Where She Danced and allow Cleve to join the dancing troupe.

When we next see them they are in San Francisco, the Baghdad of the New World. The Technicolour "here is even more Gorgeous, and Anna Maria is even more popular with the boys. As one of her admirers says, "She was always a great artist, but above all-a woman!" -and while there may be legitimate doubts about the first part of this tribute, the accuracy of the second part is beyond question. Her most enthusiastic suitor is a Russian multi-millionaire named Ivan Dimitroff (Walter Slezak) who presents her with an original Rembrandt and builds a theatre for her to dance in. But she says "I shall never dance again"; she is a little upset, you see, because Cleve, feeling himself unable to compete with a Rembrandt, has returned to banditry. So she goes aboard a Chinese junk loaded with precious jade and waves a couple of hankies in an Oriental kind of dance while waiting for Cleve and his gang to pirate the junk. But when Cleve does make the attempt he is met by an old Chinese philosopher who speaks with a broad Scottish accent, because he once studied medicine in Edinburgh (at least, that’s the explanation given here and I leave you to decide whether it is satisfactory). This remarkable old man apparently tells Cleve what Confucious had to say on the subject of piracy; anyway Cleve abandons his gang and the junk, and it looks as if we shall get a happy ending at any moment. Only then von Bohlen turns up again. He is sore because, as he tells Salome, not very originally, "You tricked meinto loving you. That I can never forgive or forget." Apparently also his Prussian honour was besmirched when she pinched his battle plans and he has come all the way to California to unsmirch it. When he sees Cleve he says, "I cannot cross swords with a mere boy," but Cleve says "Don’t worry; we had a French fencing master in our regiment"; so they pick up a couple of sabres which are conveniently lying on a table and fight each other up and down a blood-red floor, until finally the Prussian is transfixed and expires most picturesquely on top of scarlet drapes. That isn’t the end, though. There still has to be the "chase sequences," and I

can scarcely omit to mention it since the man who arranged it, one Breezy Eason, is given a special mention in the credit titles. Having killed von Bohlen, Cleve pushes Salome into a stage-coach and careersimadly off along the coast road, with the sky-scrapers of San Francisco plainly discernible in the*distance. But he loses a wheel, so the Russian millionaire, the American journalist, and the ScottishChinaman, who are following behind, adopt a thoroughly philosophic attitude and turn over their own vehicle to the lovers in order that they may escape to Virginia together. After all, they had to end the picture somehow. BS Ea eR F this story doesn’t make sense to you, don’t blame me. It doesn’t make sense .to me either. In fact, I think Salome, Where She Danced is just about the silliest picture I have ever seen, and I marvel that anybody had the audacity to produce it, let alone expect intelligent people to pay money to see it. But what’s my. opinion against Universal’s, or the opinion of those thousands of picturegoers who are apparently enjoying the show?