REGENT THEATRE

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 75, Issue 179, 1 August 1932, Page 11

REGENT THEATRE

’•THE BROKEN LULLABY” All the sorrows that futile warfare may bring, all the wrongs of th e whole militaristic outlook, the ghastly sacrifice of young lives that could have meant so much, woven into “The Broken Lullaby,” now at the Regent Theatre make the picture a romantic drama, the greatest advocate for peace that the .talking screen has yet brought to Wanganui. Warfare in its grim reality is not overdone —just a few dim scenes that bring home the horror of it all —and to counteract that there is a swelling beauty of theme, which grows steadily to finish, in the best of all the human moods, contented happiness for old people. Lionel Barrymore, Phillips Holmes and Nancy Carroll, arc featured, and they give outstanding characterisations. They. are for the time being Doctor Holderlin, a German Nationalist; Paul, a young French soldier, just out of his uniform, and. Elsa, fiancee of Doctor Holderlin’s dead only son. The son had died in the war. He had died in as fair a fight as the modern style of war could allow. Paul killed him. Paul could not forget the young German’s eyes. He tried, tried hard, and then decided to go to the young German’s people, and ask their forgiveness. He arrives in the quaint little German town, misses seeing the doctor on the first opportunity, and is next seen by the German girl when he is laying a wreath on her fiancee’s grave*. When Paul returns to the doctor he found the confession almost too hard to make, and the girl comes in to recognise him. On her statement of Paul’s laying flowers on the dead boy’s grave, Paul is received into the home as one who had known the German lad. Paul and Elsa fall in love. A Frenchman in love with a German impossible! The town hated the French, but not so the old doctor. He had come to love Paul. Paul might be a Frenchman, but he was a son and so the old man comes to see international hatreds in a new light. “We were too old. to fight, but we cheered our sons on to their deaths. We drank beer when French sons were killed, and called it victorv; they called it victory and drank wine when our sons were killed.” He saw the futility of war, and loved the French boy with all the love of a father whose son has returned. How was Paul to tell him? He told Elsa in the end, but that is not the finish of the story. It goes on to finish on a note of happiness, with a scene that can be remembered. In one home at least, national hatreds had died. In one home at least there would be no desire to hear the tramp, tramp, tramp of booted feet on their way to kill sons, lovers and husbands. “The Broken Lullaby” is a picture to see. It will be remembered, but not remorsefully. Supporting programmes are always enjoyed at the Regent and that now showing' is no exception. Mr Stevens, tbo new Premier of New South Wales, tells you exactly what are tho aims of his Cabinet —and be means it. Most outstanding, probably, is the rehearsal of the massed bands for the Aidershot tattoo in which 1000 men are seen marching in perfect order and playing as only the cream of bands can play. Bands are expected to rouse one. Some succeed. Many fail. But the one to be seen on the screen now at tho Regent does more than rouse one. It is stirring. New York demonstrates that she wants beer by her citizens parading for a day and half the night through the streets. A poignant scene is given of the three men who were lifted high into the air by a giant airship in America, of two men crashing to the ground and to their death, while the third, who was fortunate enough to have secured a firm grip, is hoisted foot by foot into the nose of the giant bird above him—literally saved fron; the jaws of death. Humour is given in plenty by a short musical skit, and Bobby Jones tells you how to approach the green. A. novel picture is given by a first-class orchestra which plays

“Beyond the Blue Horizan,” and shows an express train rolling along while the sun rises.