There is a walk to music which might have come out of Congress Dances. It also displays a childish and delightful love of destruction, pitched battles which evoke the great days of 1915 with Fatty, Max Linder, the first Chaplin comedies and those of Mack Sennett. Here and there one is even reminded of René Clair. What is even more extraordinary, there is real imagination, too. A shepherd is mistaken for a celebrated musician--that's pure farce. But he plays his pipe, and lo and behold, his flock appears. The cow puts her nose in the powder box on the dressing table, the sheep lies down like a rug on the floor, the sucking pig arranges himself on a bed of parsley and herbs, oxen in pairs drink champagne nose to nose out of the ice bucket and guzzle water out of the fish bowl. Here was a frenzy of absurdity such as had never been seen. A little while before we had seen birds sitting on telegraph wires like notes of music on staves. The shepherd plays the tune which their little bodies make, and all of a sudden one of them flies up an octave and becomes a high note. Here we join hands with Méliès and the films of 1900 with their ingenuous illustrations, their side-show fantasy and their inventive fecundity. At the end, when the musicians want to rehearse their music without bothering the neighbors, they rent a hearse and walk singing behind it, knowing that no one will venture to interfere with them. This grotesque scene reminds us of both Méliès and of Entr' acte. Each time the cinema takes on new life shall we always meet with this vehicle coming to bury what is outworn and prepare for a new order of things?
FILMS are made as well as shown all over the world today. The United States, Germany, France and Russia have maintained uninterrupted production either from the very first days or at least since 1914. Other countries where production formerly flourished but afterwards declined, have also begun to make films again.