Momotaro’s Divine Sea Warriors: uneven animated movie with strident tone preaches a nationalistic message

Mitsuyo Seo, “Momotaro’s Divine Sea Warriors” (1945)

Japan’s first full-length animated movie is a World War II propaganda film aimed at children and centred around a young boy Momotaro (“Peach Boy”) and his animal friends who represent military sailors. The film is available for viewing on Youtube.com though there are no English or other language sub-titles. Non-Japanese speakers won’t find the movie hard-going anyway as it features music and singing and there’s no over-arching plot. The film’s aim is to instill love and loyalty for Japan and belief in its military invincibility and inevitable victory over British and American forces. The importance of the group over the individual is stressed and collective action based on absolute obedience and loyalty is preferred over individual action which the film suggests can cause a person to go astray.

What plot exists is very loose and falls into three parts that are related only through shared characters. The film-makers’ grasp on history, geography and sociology is precarious. In the first part Momotaro and his sailor friends  are on leave and visiting their families. A young child gets lost chasing a runaway sailor cap and its life is in danger. The sailors and others in their community hear a rescue call and rise as one to save the child. In the second part Japanese naval forces take over a tropical island where they are welcomed by the natives who are represented by exotic species of animals; the sailors build an airbase and take time to teach the locals their language and culture. In the third part of the film the Japanese invade islands in Southeast Asia from the air and force the British overlords there to relinquish control. After parachuting to the ground and ambushing a tank together, Momotaro takes charge of negotiating with the Brits while his friends take notes.

The animation is very uneven: the main characters of Momotaro and his friends (bear, monkey, cat, pheasant) are drawn well with bodies and limbs in correct chubby proportions. Their faces are usually serene and confident with shining eyes though creepy lipsticked lips don’t always syncrhonise well with speech. Momotaro resembles a plump-cheeked kindergarten-age boy straight out of old Chinese Communist propaganda posters. The animals that represent the Pacific Islanders are all very cute and include creatures not usually native to the Pacific islands: elephants, rhinos, crocodiles, squirrels, bunnies, small wildcats and kangaroos all co-exist happily. Perhaps lacking high-order predators like lions and tigers among them gives the folks that open and hospitable attitude towards the invaders. The animals’ portrayal varies from cute and sweet for small critters to rubbery and comic for the crocs and elephants which could have come straight out of old 1930s cartoons. Just as rubbery, dated and definitely caricaturish are a trio of three adult monkeys who look and act suspiciously like 1930s blackface minstrels and the British who are shown as lacking in discipline, cowardly and spineless. Against backgrounds that look solid and almost three-dimensional and the fairly detailed depictions of machinery, the variable standard of animation means the film doesn’t have a distinctive visual style.

Whatever comedy exists in the film seems forced and the songs have been written and played to urge singing along by children. No point in preaching to audiences unless they can be pushed to participate in the message!

The film plays hard and fast with the history and geography of Southeast Asia and its colonisation by Europeans. Most likely the islands “freed” by Japan in the third part of the film aren’t a specific reference to Singapore but representative for eastern Asia and the western Pacific region. Parts of the plot are cut off unexpectedly and the film never returns to them. At the end of the film various small animals practise parachute-jumping onto a map of North America; the implied message is that Japanese domination of the entire Pacific region amd beyond is the next step. Given that when the film was released Japan had already been retreating from US-led forces for two years, and the country was in dire economic as well as military straits, the message is desperate and shrill.

Viewers may note the tone of the whole film can be strident: the pace is steady and fast, the story trajectory is onwards and upwards, and the animals obey orders and act promptly and efficiently without hesitation. The portrayal of some animals as rabbits has an unintended and slightly amusing suggestion of cloned conformity especially in scenes where they prepare the airfield for military planes to land and to take off with almost pre-programmed foreknowledge. A message of unquestioned obedience with one’s heart, mind and soul being at the service of the nation, its government and emperor is strong. Characters might pause only to look at photographs of loved ones and realise how much they miss their families but that’s the only kind of reflection and character development allowed here.

Not a film I’d recommend for children until they’re of an age to understand how seductive and inviting propaganda can be and the different forms it can take to persuade people to adopt particular beliefs and actions.

The Andromeda Nebula: the Soviet Star Trek that was never to be in spite of impressive visual style

Yevgeny Sherstobitov, “The Andromeda Nebula” (1967)

Based on a novel “Andromeda: a Space-Age Tale” by Ivan Efremov, this is a very visually striking film about the crew of the spaceship the SS Tantra, tasked with a mission to explore and map an unknown sector of space, and the utopian society on Earth that sent out the craft. The film was intended to be the first episode of a series of movies about the SS Tantra people’s adventures but its public reception was apparently poor and Efremov later fell foul of the KGB so the entire multi-film project was abandoned. The fact that “The Andromeda Nebula” wasn’t intended to stand alone explains various anomalies about it: the parallel plots on the spaceship and Earth are very weakly connected and neither is resolved within the film’s 77-minute running time; and the characters are very unevenly developed with only one character, Commander Erg Noor of the SS Tantra (Nikolai Kryukov who has third billing in the acting credits), being the most rounded of the lot and one viewers will most readily follow. The film’s constant flitting between story-lines based on Earth and on the spaceship can be very confusing and viewers need to be very focussed on the relationships among the various characters, in particular the possible love triangle involving Erg Noor, Vida Kong (Vija Artmane) and Dar Veter (Sergei Stolyarov) which perhaps explains why Vida refuses to commit herself to a relationship with Dar Veter, and the infatuation astro-navigator Niza Crete (Tatiana Voloshina) has for Erg Noor, to understand the entire film as it scrolls along.

The SS Tantra is caught in orbit around the Iron Star and its crew intercepts a distress signal coming from a ship on a planet that also orbits the star. Erg Noor commands the ship to land on the planet and he leads a team to investigate. They find an alien spacecraft and also a ship from Earth, both having crash-landed on the planet. While trying to determine the cause of the disaster that befell the ship from Earth, the team is attacked by a mysterious predator that somehows penetrates a man’s space-suit and eats him from within so that he simply disappears and his suit crumples up. The team retreats to the main ship but Erg Noor is determined to know the nature of the predator that manifests as a black shape-shifting cloudy mass, sends out electrical sparls and hides from intense light. The commander’s stubbornness nearly costs the life of an important crew-member whose chances of surviving the trip back to Earth become remote.

Back on Earth, Vida and Dar Veter become very close while Dar Veter gets involved in various creative projects that include archaeology. (The novel’s author himself was a paleontologist who first realised that the ways organisms fossilise could be studied as series of patterns and one of his leisure interests was studying ancient Greek culture.) The futuristic society on Earth is presented as a happy and healthy outdoor-oriented utopia where the air and environment are clean, the weather is always sunny and young people freely choose the adult mentor they believe will guide them. People wear distinctive costumes partly inspired by ancient Greek clothing and designs, greet each other with unusual and particular gestures, and use large television screens to communicate and entertain one another: there is an early scene in which characters watch a colourful dance performance of a woman replicated in multi-shots put together on a large screen on a wall. There’s no need for obvious pro-Communist proselytising because the future society itself is the propaganda.

The plot is similar to the plot of an earlier sci-fi film “Ikarie XB-1” from Czechoslovakia which detailed the day-to-day life of people aboard an interstellar craft and threw them into situations of investigating an abandoned spacecraft with a hidden danger and being affected by radiation from a dark star. That film also insinuated that the society that produced the spaceship Ikarie XB-1 was a perfect utopian society in which people were reasonable and cultured and dealt with crises and emergencies with reasoned intelligence; and so it is with this Soviet film though Erg Noor is allowed a couple of internal conflicts that relate to his dual role as scientist / Tantra commander and the age-old problem of reconciling personal feelings with his duty.

The ancient Greek influence finds expression in the set and costume design which tends on the whole to minimalism, graceful lines and simple patterns on pale or white backgrounds. In outdoor scenes this influence can be impractical (white clothes get dirty in archaeological digging work) and other scenes in which holiday rituals are celebrated look unintentionally (and hilariously) fascist with people lining up in robes before a girant statue of a hand holding a flame. The interior sets of the SS Tantra emphasise its spaciousness and smooth flowing lines with the futuristic technology hinted at: this is to demonstrate that the crew takes the technology for granted and regards it as a help. (Plus of course minimal sets are easy on the film’s budget and the film “ages” more slowly and looks less dated over time.) Significantly the Tantra is not shown in its entirety in the film, avoiding the problem in “Ikarie XB-1″ where the spaceship looked very cheap and cartoonish, and exterior scenes focus on the exploratory vehicles, quite impressive and realistic in looks and design, that Erg Noor’s team brings out to travel to the derelict spaceships. The enemy faced by the SS Tantra crew is very strange and creepy, created almost completely by the use of red and black-coloured smoke manipulated in ways to look almost life-like.

Overall the film is of interest mainly to people keen to know how set design can influence the look, style and atmosphere of films and how stylised acting can give the impression of an unfamiliar, even alien society. The film’s problems with characterisation and plot stem from its makers’ assumptions that it would herald an ongoing series of films in which different characters, presumably all introduced in the first film, would star: the film does finish with a sub-plot cliffhanger near the end. Too many characters with little to do other than look good appear. ” … Nebula” might have worked better as a TV series of 1-hour episodes like a Soviet “Star Trek” than as a full-length movie. Perhaps its support for Communism was too subtle for government censors at the time and the dilemmas Erg Noor faces were politically incorrect: even spaceship captains, however fictional, should always know where their supreme loyalties lie.

Ikarie XB-1: an early 1960’s space travel movie that boldly went where no space travel movie went before

Jindrích Polák, “Ikarie XB-1” (1963)

A compelling early 1960’s science fiction gem from the old Czechoslovakia is this lavish effort by Polák that details the day-to-day lives of a crew flying a craft at close to the speed of light to Alpha Centauri in the year 2163. A planet has been detected in that star system that holds the promise of supporting Earth-borne life and this is the goal that consumes the crew’s attention and the movie’s running time. For a supposed pro-Soviet propaganda piece this movie has a small amount of capitalist bashing. There’s not much of a definite plot: after the film’s first thirty minutes which consist of introducing various members of the 40-strong crew as they go about their work, the story settles into three set pieces. In the first piece the crew of Ikarie XB-1 discover a derelict spacecraft and despatch two men to investigate; the men report that the abandoned ship is from Earth in 1987. The men discover there are still active nuclear weapons on the ship and try to escape. In the second set piece the Ikarie XB-1 passes near a dark star whose radiation affects the crew badly and causes a kind of sleeping sickness; this piece leads into the third set piece in which a crew member Michael (Otto Lackovic), who had ventured outside the Ikarie XB-1 to fix something while the ship was passing the dark star, becomes deranged from too much dark-star radiation exposure and becomes a threat to the ship’s mission and the crew’s lives as he starts damaging some of the robots and the ship’s technology.

The interior sets of Ikarie XB-1 are the film’s main highlight: the design of the control and flight rooms where crew members sit and pilot the ship is very “modern” for the period with plenty of artistic flair, light and space even in the corridors as well as the main function areas. A canteen, a gym and a swimming pool area Costumes are deliberately utilitarian apart from a ballroom dancing scene where the women wear 1960’s fashions and the men wear uniforms meant to be futuristic tuxedos. Admirably women as well as men have responsibility for piloting the ship, controlling interior air flows, temperatures and pressures, and monitoring people’s health and well-being though when it comes to making final decisions that could spell the difference between life and death, the older men still have the upper hand over everyone else, male and female alike. The crew’s response to Michael’s depression and rampage is sane though their capture of him isn’t necessarily recommended: the people in charge try to keep track of his location and where he is moving to, and send one – yes, one! – unarmed man out to fetch him and take him to the sick bay! Perhaps the brave man knows some form of self-defence like the Vulcan neck nerve pinch that isn’t mentioned in the film.

As if to provide a wry kind of balance, the exterior sets that show the ship flying through space are very cartoony and amateurish in a film that otherwise presents interstellar travel intelligently and treats its audience as educated and cultured. Viewers may wonder why animation wasn’t used instead to show the ship – perhaps the film’s budget didn’t allow for it. The budget did allow for a music soundtrack that includes some unusual and electronically produced sounds and tunes by famed Czech composer Zdenék Liška and this together with various sound effects that simulate noises from outside the ship as well as inside is another major highlight which contributes mightily to the overall serious and sometimes melancholy mood.

The main dangers faced by the crew suggest a questioning or inquiry into the nature of human interaction in and with space: how humans can create a new and isolated society and how they can co-exist in that society especially during emergency situations when they can only rely on themselves for help. Before the major set pieces take place, the film focusses on a love triangle that fizzles out when the two Romeos discover their lady love already has a husband, and on a couple who discover they’re expecting a baby. As everyone knows, when a film features a pregnancy the baby has to appear and “Ikarie XB-1” obliges with a bonny cutey near the end. Happily the movie never falls into sentimentality or soap-opera territory: everyone on board behaves sanely and properly, even during the party scene where couples dance sedately and people sniff little sticks of fragrance that remind them of Earth. The ship’s science officer is allowed eccentric foibles like bringing a useless robot Patrik on board and refusing to take his vitamin drinks which a woman engineer constantly urges on him. Another crew member brings his piano on board. Given the kind of mini-society the film-makers seemed to have in mind when developing the script, viewers shouldn’t be surprised if other crew members brought along enough musical instruments that they could constitute a full orchestra capable of playing all the major 19th and 20th century symphonies and concertos. The implication is that thanks to the triumph and spread of Communist socialism, all humans have become peaceful and reasonable. Of course this means strong characterisation is not the film’s strong point. Even the encounter with the dark star and its insidious radioactive effects isn’t enough to reduce everyone to a state of “capitalistic” greed and self-indulgence leading to competition, violence and murder. The film might have been more interesting and have a richer sub-text if the dark star had affected the crew in that way: the phenomenon would come to represent the crew’s collective unconsciousness – what Freudian psychoanalysis calls the id – that they haven’t come to terms with and which they must do to survive; but then “Ikarie XB-1” wouldn’t have been approved by the Czechoslovak government censors.

Communist propagandistic bluster in the movie appears in the scene in which the two cosmonauts explore the derelict ship and even there the film suggests that it was the dead capitalist crew’s inability to co-operate and settle disputes amicably that indirectly led to its demise. (And having military generals pilot the derelict craft wasn’t such a good idea either.) The society of “Ikarie XB-1” is proof enough of Communism’s success; whenever problems are encountered, whether from outside or inside, its inhabitants try to deal with them intelligently and resourcefully.

As is, the movie isn’t exciting drama for the general public but it’s a bold attempt to portray a futuristic society that deliberately isolates itself from the rest of humanity and Earth in order to fulfill a grand ambition to reach out to the stars and connect with other sentient life. It’s an interesting paradox, that to contact other intelligences, some of us need to separate ourselves (forever perhaps) from the rest of humankind. “Ikarie XB-1” attempts in a limited way to explore some of the ramifications that might arise when a society willingly detaches itself from all other people to pursue a narrow agenda. The full-length feature format is a restricted medium for studying the problems such a society and its individuals might have so it’s no wonder that when American producer and script-writer Gene Roddenberry had a similar idea about a group of pioneers travelling in space and dealing with emergencies, crises, setbacks and humdrum life generally – the Internet is awash with speculation that he was inspired by “Ikarie XB-1” – he chose the format of a TV series to flesh out his vision. Thus was “Star Trek” born.

The Planet of Storms: lowbrow 1960’s Soviet sci-fi film with high production values and slight subtext

Pavel Klushantsev, “Planeta Bur’ ” aka “The Planet of Storms” (1962)

In the early 1960’s Soviet space exploration was focussed on sending probes and eventually manned spacecraft to the planet Venus and this little B-grade number was commissioned by Soviet film authorities from Pavel Klushantsev who rose to fame with his 1958 science education film “Road to the Stars” which was a mix of fact and fictional speculation of future space travel and exploration. “Planeta Bur’ ” is the only full-length feature Klushantsev made. With his background in special effects engineering, it’s no surprise that the film has excellent production values with advanced special effects simulating a volcano explosion with lava flow and credible background sets of an alien world. The robot in the film has a very technical design though by Western standards of the time it must have looked quite clumsy and comic. Much more impressive is the flying passenger craft, complete with see-through glass shields that double for protection and as entry/exit hatches, which travels across land and sea. Not through sea as the cosmonauts later discover when their little flyer is forced into the water.

Shame then that the plot is very comic-cartoon stuff with characters that are essentially clones of one another in spirit if not in looks. Three spacecraft are on their way to Venus when a stray meteorite comes and blasts one of them into smithereens. The crews of the other ships are very depressed at the disaster but continue onto Venus nevertheless. The crew of one ship land on Venus and begin exploring with their robot John (not “Ivan” perhaps?) but lose contact with the crew of the other ship so they too must descend in a rocket and land to find the lost men while a lone crewmember – the lone woman on the mission – pilots the main craft. While she whiles away her time floating about (literally), the men contend with hydra-like vegetation, bipedal reptilian swamp monsters, an octopus, a pterodactyl and a dinosaur relic to find their companions and explore the planet for signs of life and maybe intelligent life.

Yep, it’s that sort of comic-book sci-fi movie! – except the fauna and flora don’t put up much of a fight and wisely flee when the cosmonauts use shotguns or knives on them. In those days, AK-47s were still limited to the Soviet Army. The men’s real enemy turns out to be John the robot which after being doused by an unexpected downpour of rain (presumably acid) goes demented: it proposes a plan to build a concrete highway across the planet and calculates the cost of construction in terms only Wall Street bankers might understand; it then expounds on creating a world government with itself as prime minister. Talk about having prescience! Later the tinpot tyrant baulks at carrying its human companions, ill though they are with fever, through a river of hot lava and prepares to let them deep-fry; in the nick of time, the crew from the other spacecraft arrive to rescue the men and leave the rebel robot to sizzle alone. Thus a sneaky attempt to impose capitalism on an ideologically and politically innocent planet is thwarted.

There is a hilarious subtext about gender relations: the cosmonauts criticise their lone female crew-member Masha (Khyunna Ignatova) among themselves for violating HQ instructions and leaving the main orbit around Venus to try to rescue them, saying that robots have greater powers of thinking than women do. At the same time the men search for signs of intelligent life and find none, though they find evidence enough that a civilisation once existed on Venus. On renewing radio contact with Masha, the men prepare to meet her ship: after they have blasted away from Venus, intelligent life emerges from its hiding place – in a skilfully prepared camera shot focussing on a pond – and though appearing upside-down in the pond reflection it clearly looks female! Brief moments where the cosmonauts ponder on the destiny of humans and intelligent life generally to travel into space and on how civilisation must have come to Venus appear here and there.

For a pulpy sci-fi flick of its type, “Planet …” clearly emphasises the co-operation and camaraderie among the cosmonauts and their determination to succeed and save their companions against what look like despairingly insurmountable odds. Thankfully the local wildlife accept the cosmonauts as part of their furniture – which animals in real life might well do once they’ve got over the initial shock of seeing, hearing and smelling human intruders – and the really aggressive types are the pot plants with their woody tentacles. The swamp lizard beings briefly defend their territory but once the action moves away from the mud pools, they appear no more. Perhaps the idea of active and voracious plants and rather passive animals appealed to the script writers – it certainly parallels the gender reversal subtext. The film is not stridently propagandistic and this reviewer’s impression is that Klushantsev fought to keep as much scientific veracity and a spirit of co-operation among the crew members (who are a mixed Soviet-American bunch) as he could in the plot and the characterisation. The actors do what they can with the script which requires them to be heroic and straight-faced and to spout lines they might have laughed at most of the time.

Overall this is an entertaining piece that shows the kind of technically sophisticated science fiction movie that film studios in the Soviet Union were capable of making in the early 1960’s. Still with regard to plot and message, “Planeta …” had to cater for most levels of taste and knowledge and pass muster with government authorities. The safe way out then was to produce something that was straightforward and heroic if somewhat lowbrow with just a hint of a politically innocuous subtext for some perceptive people to chew over.

Aelita, Queen of Mars: a multi-plot story with a moral about living in fantasy versus living in reality

Yakov Protazanov, “Aelita, Queen of Mars” (1924)

This silent Soviet film from the mid-1920’s can be seen in nine parts on Youtube.com thanks to contributor Ishexan. Most current interest in the movie focusses on its sci-fi sub-plot of a trip that three Earthmen make to Mars where they are promptly embroiled in Martian politics and one of them, a revolutionary called Gusev (Nikolai Batalov), inspires the oppressed Martian workers to rebel against their despotic king and replace him with his daughter who is equally tyrannical. This sub-plot is part of a broad melodrama about an engineer called Los (Nikolai Tsereteli) who fluctuates between an erotic fantasy life revolving around an exotic aristocrat woman who worships him from afar and his real life in which his wife Natasha (Valentina Kuindzhi), neglected by him, has an affair with a rich foreigner, Ehrlich (Pavel Pol).

Los’s fantasy about the woman Aelita (Yulia Solntseva) begins when he and his colleague Spiridonov (Tsereteli again) receive mysterious radio transmissions from afar which can’t be translated into Russian and someone in their department jokingly suggests the messages might be from Mars. Mars is a place where rich folks like Aelita and her dad King Tuskub (Konstantin Eggert) can spy on the affairs of other planets on a special TV made of geometric shapes and squiggly wires powered by Martian planetary energy harnessed by Gor (Yuri Zavadsky), the planet’s chief scientist and guardian of radiant energy. Poor Martian folks on the other hand must labour in the labyrinthine dungeons of Mars and there’s a rotating roster in which one-third of the workforce goes to sleep in deep freeze chambers when the available work dwindles. Good thing the capitalists on Earth never heard of that idea! Most of the movie’s running time flits from Los’s work ,which among other things involves volunteer work on an engineering project in the Soviet Far East and in his spare time constructing a spaceship capable of flying to Mars with Spiridonov, to Natasha working at a refugee centre, then an orphanage, and flirting with Ehrlich, to other sub-plots which include Gusev’s on-again/off-again relationship with his wife and an investigation of Natasha’s shotgun murder by the comically inept detective Kravtsov (Igor Ilyinsky). There is also a sub-plot that focusses on one man’s attempt to cheat on the food-rationing system used in Moscow which calls audiences’ attention to the economic and social plight of ordinary people in Russia at the time the film was made.

All this means that “Aelita …” can be a bewildering experience for first-time viewers unfamiliar with the immediate post-1917 situation in the Soviet Union before Joseph Stalin came to power in the mid-1920’s. Repeating viewings and a foreknowledge of the film’s plot and themes will be necessary for some viewers to understand and tease out the various sub-plots. Several sub-plots are Los’s daydreams which the film deliberately doesn’t separate from what happens to the engineer in real life so the narrative, and in particular the ending, can be very confusing to watch. A pro-Communist / anti-capitalist message is present in the movie but director Protazanov’s treatment of it is very ambiguous: Gusev has second thoughts about allowing Aelita to assume leadership of the Martian proletariat and his fears are well-founded. This particular moment in the film serves perhaps as a warning of what could happen to the Soviet government, that it might fall into a similar autocratic style of government as the previous Tsarist government: a prophetic message indeed.

Los realises his fantasy about Aelita comes to nothing but chaos, which might make viewers wonder whether it really is a fantasy that he has or something that actually happened to him. Fantasy women who hero-worship you don’t usually try to co-opt you into their own nefarious schemes, do they? He decides that his goal in life is to be with Natasha, who miraculously is alive despite having been shot at close range multiple times earlier in the film, and work with her for the reconstruction of their country. Natasha for her part is willing to return to Los and give up Ehrlich. The film’s message is that inner psychological rebirth is as important as political, social and economic rebirth if people are to co-operate and fulfill the goals of socialist revolution. Fantasising about flying to Mars as a way of escaping humdrum reality and the work involved in maintaining a marriage (and by extension, maintaining a community, especially a new revolutionary community) certainly won’t help to bring about equality and prosperity for everyone.

The film’s production values are very impressive: in particular the Martian sets, influenced by the Russian avantgarde art movement Constructivism with its emphasis on abstract geometric shapes and figures, look very futuristic and in some scenes are monumental. The make-up and costume design for the actors playing the Martians are similarly abstract and angular though the headgear looks comic. The style of acting varies in keeping with the plot and themes: generally the Earthlings move and act in a natural way while the Martians, lacking human emotion, have a stilted and robotic style of behaving. Aelita especially seems a child-like and petulant aritstocrat compared to proletarian Natasha who is portrayed as a warm and caring, if rather flighty, young woman. The editing helps here too, cutting from Aelita at her leisure watching Los on her TV or lounging about to Natasha cooking stew and scrubbing wet clothes. Hmm, what does it say about Los and his attitude towards women and social class that Aelita is a naive fantasy ideal that turns dangerous and has to be killed off while the neglected Natasha is ready to offer him love and support if only he would pay more attention to her and their marriage?

Ultimately for most people the main value of “Aelita …” will be in its sets and design but for students of propaganda and Soviet history, the film has a great deal to say about the difference between fantasy and reality. The lesson is aimed as much at idealists and would-be revolutionaries as for those still wedded to capitalist ways of thinking.

Assassin of Youth: “educational” soap opera that titillates with flashes of sordid behaviour

Elmer Clifton, “Assassin of Youth” (1937)

It’s a laughable anti-marijuana screed but “Assassin of Youth” at least has a comic drama going for it. A reporter, Art Brighton (Arthur Gardiner), goes undercover in a small US town to investigate a gang of marijuana dealers intent on corrupting the teenagers there. In particular these fiendish fellas are in cahoots with a local woman Linda Clayton (Fay McKenzie) who wants to discredit her cousin Joan Barry (Luana Walters) so that the girl can’t claim her inheritance of money from her grandmother’s will, subject to a morals clause, and the cash will go to Linda and her husband instead. The way Linda will discredit Joan is to feed her with marijuana through smoking and cakes, encouraging the lass to misbehave at wild parties and get involved with strange folks of dubious moral reputation. Joan falls for every ploy and scheme Linda can dream up, sullying her reputation as a good girl until there’s more mud clinging to her than little sister Margery who at least attempts to murder another girl at a party. Brighton conceives a daring plan that will get Joan off the hook and incriminate Linda and the no-good drug dealers she’s getting the grass from but the police interfere, Joan ends up in the slammer, Brighton himself is whisked back to the office by his employer and the reading of the will happens to take place the next day. Can Brighton get back to town in time to stop Joan from being deprived of her inheritance and the money going to her undeserving cousin?

Essentially a soap opera, the film is slow for much of its running time: one after the other, there are several parties where the kids do little more scandalous than get Joan bathing nude in a lake (while Linda is burning her clothes), smoke pot, dance a lot and keel over from the effects of the drug. There’s a diversion into a film screened by Brighton’s employer for the reporter’s benefit in which a narrator bangs on about the history of marijuana, its early uses and its current evil effects on young vulnerable people. Action perks up when Brighton hatches his bold plan and gets Joan to co-operate. Plenty of comedy is provided by local milkbar owner, “Pop” Brady (Earle Dwire), who hires Brighton in his undercover disguise and who exposes the local gossip Henrietta (Fern Emmett) as having been less than snow-white virginal herself as a teenager and the judge (Henry Roquemore) as the man who might have deflowered her all those years ago, at the court hearing. The acting is competent enough for the film’s requirements; McKenzie as the glamour-puss blonde schemer and Dwire, who creates havoc in the court-room to delay the hearing so that Brighton can get there in time, are the most memorable actors. Production values are quite bad with some scenes hard to make out due to poor lighting conditions at the time, and the quality of the film stock used and the way it has aged do not help either.

Modern audiences will get a chuckle out of the shock-horror tactics used by Clifton to hammer home the anti-marijuana message. All kinds of evil, deviant behaviour like skinny-dipping in a lake at nights, trying to knife a girl smooching with your boyfriend, and falling into a coma and being at death’s door are detailed to the extent that any real side-effects cannabis might have become invisible. The snooty pedant in me sniffs that the kids’ behaviour is due to being in a group free from adult restraint in environments where small-town customs and traditions no longer matter.  It seems very likely that audiences in the 1930’s didn’t take this film seriously and simply watched it for the melodrama with its promise of nude bathing, youngsters imbibing alcohol, female violence and a teenage girl sleeping with a strange man in a hotel room. In those days of strict censorship and alcohol prohibition in the US, film-makers there wanting to titillate audiences with racy stories that would get past the censors made so-called “educational” films about the dangers of drugs or sexual intercourse outside marriage and this may well have been Clifton’s intention.

Worth watching at least for the attitudes and social mores of the period in relation to drug addiction and teenage freedom and sexuality, and how American society, in particular small-town society, might have dealt with issues affecting adolescents. Some aspects of American youth culture and fashion may interest the social historian in some viewers. Apart from this, don’t expect  much in the way of fine acting, cinematography or direction – just sit back and enjoy the fluff.