THE MUDLARK

New Zealand Listener, Volume 24, Issue 623, 8 June 1951, Page 9

THE MUDLARK

(20th Century-Fox) HERE is a_ nicely-empha-sised faify-tale quality in this film about a slum child who makes his way into Windsor Castle to see the Queen and innocently sets off important changes in the national affairs of old England. From its opening sequence showing the waif grovelling around in the Thames mud this picture-book atmosphere is kept up till the end. Disraeli’s parliamentary oratory or his intimate discussions with the Queen convey it as much as the rich settings of the castle interior or the splendi@ footmen and officers of the guard. The director, Jean Negulesco, has made the most of the ragged child’s wonder when he first stumbles down an ornate corridor lined with the busts of former kings. And this is amusingly contrasted with the urchin-like insouciance with which he later wanders from room to room spitting plum-

stones on to the royal carpet. He finally falls asleep behind the drapes in the royal dining chamber, where his snores interrupt the Queen’s after-dinner anecdote. His capture, interrogation by the police (the newspapers play up the story as an attempt on the Queen’s life by a midget) and incarceration in the Tower of London are also done with humour. Smaller comic touches are provided by the Irish footman who boasts of how easily he could burn down the castle, and the frustrated attempts of a saucy maid-in-waiting to elope with an officer of the guard. The child is released at the request of Disraeli himself, who makes of the affair a cause célébre to help him push through his bill for slum clearance and Poor Law reforms. Disraeli’s speech in the House of Commons was a dramatic set piece to which Alec Guinness did justice, although I thought his general interpretation of the Prime Minister’s personality a-shade less flamboyant than the part required. It Was interesting to ‘compare his playing with that of George Arliss and John Gielgud in earlier screen interpretations, and my reaction was that he didn’t give Disraeli the stature which they did. Finlay Currie turns in a good performance as John Brown, the outspoken old Highland gillie who acts as the Queen’s personal servant, and wanders about the castle with the lordly air of a grand seigneur (and in a state of semi-intoxication) in defiance of the regular servants. Andrew Ray plays the part of the orphan boy in a charming precocious sort of way. Irene Dunne made the mourning Queen Victoria seem a plain, pudding-faced, rather sentimental woman, not very intelligent, but with a certain pleasant shrewdness and sense of humour. The delicate fiction of the film-that the little boy’s adoration of Victoria persuades her to come out of the 15 years’ retirement that followed Prince Albert’s death-was on the whole well handled. Nevertheless, I thought the historical

tone of .The Mudlark completely phoney, and its sentiment as sweet and sugary as a chocolate marshmallow. There was no deep sympathy for the poor generated in those cleverly photographed opening scenes, nor was there much feeling for the dignity and responsibility of those who ruled an empire. Once it is realised that the story and players give no more than a caricature of history, it is worth saying that the film is enjoyable and often quite moving, especially in the sequence where the boy finally sees the Queen and by his appeal to her maternal instincts causes that astonishing volte-face in regal policy.