Cinema: The New Pictures: Mar. 11, 1935

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Vanessa: Her Love Story (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer), adapted by Hugh Walpole from his own novel, is an earnest, lachrymose romance of the Jubilee Era, slightly oversold on its message, Love Will Find a Way. Benjie Herries (Robert Montgomery) is the black sheep of a huge English manor-house and bagpipe family. Other members of the family include a female centenarian (May Robson), lovely young Vanessa (Helen Hayes) and an anti-social introvert with a persecution complex (Otto Kruger). The trouble starts when Benjie goes to China instead of marrying Vanessa immediately. When he gets back, the manor house burns down and she suspects him of cowardice in not rescuing her father. Hurt, Benjie marries a barmaid. Dismayed, Vanessa marries the introvert. Not until Benjie has lost an arm, Vanessa's husband has died from the shock of seeing a Christmas present, and an old friend of the family (Henry Stephenson) has predicted that there is no way out, do Benjie and Vanessa reach first base.

For cinemaddicts who know that it invariably betokens a husband whose jealousy will drive him to distraction. Otto Kruger's presence in this picture will not add materially to its suspense. Nonetheless, his performance is the most convincing single feature of the entertainment. As Vanessa, Helen Hayes, who last week announced that she would return to the stage for good after one more cinema rôle, contributes her anguished smile and her catch-in-the-throat voice. Robert Montgomery's efforts are improved by the exchange of his customary whimsey for a set of sideburns.

The Great Hotel Murder (Fox). Month ago in Under Pressure Edmund Lowe and Victor McLaglen were a pair of truculent sand hogs, snarling savagely at each other while digging a vehicular tunnel. This time they are rival detectives, investigating the death of a banker in a hotel and thereby putting all its guests under suspicion of murder.

The plot of Lowe-McLaglen cinema varies more than its essential pattern: an amiable numbskull outwitted by a smug sophisticate. Cinemaddicts who enjoy listening to the kind of vituperation between Lowe and McLaglen which has remained marketable at the box-office for the past eight years will probably overlook the fact that as detective fiction The Great Hotel Murder is strictly routine.