Cinema: The New Pictures Jun. 9, 1930

Turksib (Amkino). Two shining steel rails creep northward under a round bonfire sun into the desert where skinny Mongolians pile up the sand to support them . . . northward into frozen ground, over mountain beds torn out by dynamite, on trestles over glacial rivers. Turksib is a translation of the Russian nickname for the Turkestan-Siberian Railroad, 897 mi. long joining Siberia and Turkestan (TIME, May 12). As Director Sergie Eisenstein dramatized modern brains coming into Russian farm country (TIME, May 19), so now Director Victor Turin tells the story of the building of the Turksib. Turin’s newsreel is less interesting technically, but his approach— showing what the railroad means to the people for whom it was built—makes the margins of his industrial report bristle with human detail. Director Turin has shown himself cleverer than Eisenstein in one respect at least—he has suppressed propaganda. Best shots: camels loaded with raw wool moving impassively into a sandstorm; close-ups of tossing, tumbling water; natives looking at the first Turksib locomotive.

The Floradora Girl (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer). This is a brilliant, animated cartoon of the fashions of the Mauve Decade—a cartoon brought to life by the comic playing of Marion Davies and built around an effervescing, satirical story.

Into the career of Miss Davies, stupidest member of the Floradora sextette, comes a gay dog who means her no good, but who realizes his true love for her when she resists his advances after a cold bottle and a warm bird. Lawrence Gray, the male lead, plays his part with proper seriousness and the rest of the cast have been persuaded somehow to conceal their consciousness of the text’s value as burlesque. It is a good cast, but Miss Davies, probably the most skillful comedienne in pictures, lovely in her trailing gowns, is better than the rest of them all the time. Typical shots: the bathing party, the bicycle picnic, the harmony singing, the love-scenes in swings, the hero following his sweetheart on stage when she comes out for the “Tell Me, Pretty Maiden” number.

True to the Navy (Paramount). Clara Bow was surrounded by sailors once before, in a silent picture (The Fleet’s In), and in several others she has begun her love-making from behind a store counter. True to the Navy conforms to the Bow formula: a love-affair, a misunderstanding, a reunion. The formula depends for its success on quick sequences and energetic physical activity; usually makes fair entertainment; but True to the Navy drags. The dialog is the sort in which effects are concentrated in the word “Yeah” and while Bow gives a good performance Frederic March, who plays opposite her, is better suited in drawing room dramas. Real sailors will writhe with rage at his interpretation of a gob. Best shot: marriage episode in a Tia Juana dance hall where the proprietor has offered a prize of $100 to any couple marrying on the premises.