THE KINEMA ABROAD.

Otago Witness, Issue 3337, 27 February 1918, Page 54

THE KINEMA ABROAD.

EAST AFRICANS AND INDIANS ENJOY IT. The campaign in German East Africa has brought the native into touch with the European as never before. The passage of two armies through the colony and the demands of these upon native resources in food and labour have opened the eyes of the natives to the power of the white man, many of whom had never seen a European before the war. They have witnessed the many devices of the white man, and have almost got past the stage of marvelling, believing there is little the European cannot do. The last stand of the Germans was made in wild, unhealthy parts. Soon the country will revert to its previous condition, and the sight of a white man- will again be comparatively rare. —Seeing Unforgettable Things.— But, meantime, the native is seeing things beyond his imagination, unforgettable and marvellous. The British East African native has travelled for days and miles by train, has been carried down the coast by ship, has been transported by motor car, has seen the flight of aeroplanes—"the great birds that drop the eggs"—has heard the scream of shells over a bombarded town and the raucous, nasal tones of "Edison Bell Records" in camps. I remember once, in the early days, when travelling in a troop train from Mombasa to Nairobi, I was greatly amused when a Tommy took his set of false teeth out of his mouth in presence of a crowd of lanky Kavirondos, each clad in a single garment reaching not quite to the waist. The yells of astonishment from round, thick lips and their appreciation of the situation, tinged somewhat with fear, but not at all with awe, were funny beyond expression. The same humorous Tommy pretended to take his eye out, shutting one lid and holding his closed hand to the natives for them to take the eye. I am convinced that they believed his eye was in his hand, but none ventured to receive the imaginary eye from his. The Joy of the Kinema.— Among other of the lesser things he has seen, and which will retain a vivid impression on his memory, is the kinematograph film. The Y.M.C.A. has gone with the army into many wild spots, and, as far as possible, taken all equipment for entertaining the troops. Often, where there have been large native camps, special kinematograph shows have been given for the benefit of the native. To be present at one of these shows is an experience as much for the European as for the native. To the native the film is the show, to the European the native is the show. They sit on the floor in hundreds before the screen. It would not exactly require a bloodhound to scent out the fact that there are natives present; the scent is so strong that one could believe the inhabitants of Mars would know that such a show" was in progress. It is wise to select tha films. A negro should not be depicted carrying off a white Avoman. The plots should not be too intricate. Scenes from high society life, in which the elegant surroundings are strange, when Lady Gwendoline majestically and haughtily dismisses her lover to save his skin or her honour and then buries her face in a handkerchief on a sofa or cushion, should not be shown. The native is not-used to love overtures being rejected, far less to handkerchiefs and sofas. The more ridiculous and impossible, in nn unsentimental way, the films are the better. Anything humorous is quickly appreciated. Charlie Chaplin a Favourite. — The antics of Charlie Chaplin, with his large feet, loose trousers, ludicrous expression, small cane, and diminutive Iwwler hat set them rocking. It is im-

possible to describe their almost hysterical laughter and exclamations. Especially is this true of the Kavirondo, the most lazy, dirty, but hardy" and humorous of the' tribes helping in the war. A chase in which the crowd pursuing is constantly being augmented, when the man pursued runs up walls of houses liko lightning, down chimneys into rooms, overturning everything on his way, raises the greatest excitement. Descriptive films, provided the natives know what they are about, interest them. I remember a film showing natives working (so industriously!) on a plantation was keenly enjoyed. The impression of these things seen is indelible. For how many years afterwards will the exploits of Charlie be recounted by the camp fires in the jungle through the silent African night? Sick-leave took me in time to Madras. My inclinations took me to the picture houses there. I was able to see something of the keen enjoyment by the Indian in the kinematograph film. (The word "native" must not be used in referring to the Indian. The Government is discouraging the use of the words " native " and " Eurasian " as much as possible.) Here I found each night I attended that the basement of the picture house was packed by Indians. Fans kept the atmosphere fairly fresh, and refreshments in, the form of aerated waters, Indian sweets, and betel leaf, were freely bought. I have read much about the silence of the East and the impassive Indian. But the Indians here -chattered to each other like children at .a picnic. When the first film was shown, some late-comers passed between the screen and the machine on their way to their seats. Immediately a roar of indignation went up from the audience. It sounded very ~ homely. A series of films depicting the working of the Iron Claw was exhibited. It was a succession of thrills. • I _ was interested to notice that the inhabitants of the passive East could be • worked up to a pitch of excitement quite aas demonstrative as the inhabitants of the West. When jfcfae hero performed deeds of valour with good-natured coolness he was cheered to the echo. What interested me chiefly were the deep and often distorted impressions of European life these uneducated Indians were getting from highly emotional and exaggerated films. The kinematograph wfts teaching them as fast as its handle was being turned, but was it educating them? I was lucky in being present when a Charlie Chaplin film was shown. I judged the educational status of the audience by the fact that when the written title of the film appeared on the screen there was practically no stir. Few could read. But whenever Charlie appeared there was an uproar of laughter, such as might come from any European audience. The humour of Charlie appealed as much to the Indian as to the African native and the European. To all who have seen him, the star of the kinematograph forms a link between races. If railway travelling is helping to break down the caste system, so, too, must the kinematograph shows in all the towns in India. Occupying a box in the theatre I saw a " purdah " lady. Hung before her, from the roof of the box, was a small square of mosquito net, while her face was uncovered. Through this she watched the antics of Charlie. Surely East has met West, or is the shred of mosquito net symbolic of all that now keeps them separate.—John E. Penman, in the Weekly Scotsman.