World War, PROPAGANDA: Two War Films

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Two films of World War II were on view in Manhattan last week. The Mannerheim Line, a Russian report on the Finnish campaign, was attended at the Miami Theatre by a muttering, ill-smelling audience, most of whom obviously did not understand what they saw and would have been depressed if they had. They saw a WPA Army leaning on its weapons—some of which, especially artillery, were not bad—stumbling through the motions of fighting, crawling clumsily around in the woods to try to knock off some determined, able fighters whom the camera never showed. The audiences saw Asiatic soldiers looking more soldierly than their European Russian comrades.

The whole film was an incomparably bad cinematic post card to the wide world. Anti-tank guns fired in batteries—perhaps for the camera. Howitzers fired in flat trajectory—perhaps for the same reason. Young men signed up for the Communist Party just before going into battle —without enthusiasm, obviously for the camera. The only naval units shown were old Tsarist models of creaky vintage. Such airplanes as appeared seemed to be copied from obsolete U. S. models. The Red Army was unconsciously shown to be a stumblebug which has plenty of weapons but will take years to learn to use them, and to develop snap and guts for fighting.

In marked contrast to the Manner heim Line was the German film, Blitzkrieg im Westen. It was designed to overawe all who see it. If it drives U. S. audiences under the bed, it will succeed, but it seemed more likely to shock complacent Americans and make them aware of the swift, titanic, destructive power of the greatest military force in the world today: the German Army.

Beginning with the forcing of the Maastricht defenses, the cameras follow—in plane, tank and lorry—every characteristic move of the Nazi juggernaut across the Lowlands, over to the sea, down to Paris, up the Eiffel Tower, into the armistice car at Compiègne. Residents of Manhattan's German colony sat chilled and stilled in their seats. With fine photography, which in itself emphasizes (in contrast to Russia's Mannerheim Line) the martial superiority of Teutons over Slavs, the picture shows the German Army's crushing, rhythmic power; patience and proficiency in arms; perfect planning and instant, athletic response to commands. In this picture is the other side of the retreat to Dunkirk; the blasting of Tournai; the whining accuracy of the Stukas (divers); the plod and dash—as occasion required—of German soldiers afoot or on horses drawing cannon, of German soldiers looking like men from horrid Mars in grimy, indestructible machines of all types. Some 23 Army cameramen were killed making the picture.

The military eye is struck by the film's omissions as much as by its revealing details. Left out are the much-touted flame-throwing tanks and the anti-tank rifle, bigger than an elephant gun. which the Germans copied from the Poles and with which every infantry platoon is now supposed to be equipped. Most impressive is the constant presence of artillery far up in the front lines. Wherever there are tanks, there too is artillery, to batter enemy tanks. Engineers are everywhere, too, building pontoon bridges, clearing debris, mining obstacles. The slow, energy-saving step of the infantry is impressive.