gvb0907

To paraphrase Orwell, Oceania was allied with Eurasia, Oceania always had been allied with Eurasia.

So it was in 1942, when the United States found itself allied to the Soviet Union, which as recently as the previous year had been a virtual ally of Nazi Germany.

Time to present a positive image of the Union of Soviet Socialists Republics. "People of Russia" demonstrates that Hollywood was more than up to the task.

Most of the film's footage is borrowed from a 1932 James Fitzpatrick Travel Talk. The conclusion is from a 1940 parade, probably May Day.

"A fully liberated people" Fitzpatrick informs us, march by the tomb of Vladimir Lenin "Who passed his miraculous power to another giant among men who shares, with the people of Russia, the respect and admiration of the civilized world - Joseph Stalin!"

Such a narration might well have been written in Moscow. Actually it was penned at MGM, the most conservative of the major studios.

All the film factories fell in line and churned out similar propaganda until 1945. Then, as it always does, the world turned and soon . . .

Oceania was at war with Eurasia. Oceania always had been at war with Eurasia.

There are two versions of this film, one running around 20 minutes and another running slightly over 40. The longer film features footage of fighter pilots relaxing while off duty and more extensive coverage of the briefing before their mission. Both films are packed with gun camera footage of aerial combat and strafing runs.

Ronald Reagan narrates the shorter version, which probably played in theaters and later on television. The narrator of the longer film isn't identified, though his is a familiar and very professional voice.

Reagan's narration refers to the unit shown as the 62nd Fighter Group, which did not exist. The airfield footage most likely was of the 56th Group. In one scene in the longer film a truck is seen bearing that outfit's designation on its bumper.

Images of several fighter aces appear at the end of both films. All shown survived the war, though some as POWs.

Either version of "The Fight for the Sky" is a fine tribute to those who flew and fought so valiantly in the skies above Western Europe in World War 2.

The main problem with filming any James Ellroy novel is what to cut. In "LA Confidential" Curtis Hanson did a great job of trimming the story to its essentials while still retaining much of Ellroy's style and tone. Unfortunately, in "The Black Dahlia" Brian De Palma has moved in the opposite direction, delivering a staggeringly bloated, over-produced, chaotic and convoluted work, turning what was the simplest and most straight-forward of Ellroy's LA Quartet books into a nearly incomprehensible film.

The Dahlia case has never been solved, which has led to a flood of true crime speculations, novels, and films, all which pose solutions to the mystery of who killed Elizabeth Short. These range from the credible to the ridiculous, but whatever their conclusions their success or failure depends upon how they build their case. There's something to be said for misdirection, especially if one is working in fiction, but De Palma's method of presenting the story is so oblique that by the time he arrives at a resolution you'll no longer care and most likely you'll laugh. And that seems terribly inappropriate, for the Dahlia case is not the stuff of black comedy.

From the very beginning one senses De Palma is off track when he stages a clumsy depiction of the Zoot Suit riot of 1943 (the Dahlia was murdered in 1947). This does nothing to advance the story other than to explain how LAPD detectives Bucky Bleichert (Josh Hartnett) and Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckert) first met, something that could have been done just as well and far more economically via a voice-over, but De Palma wants to take you over the top, even if he has to stumble to do so. The sequence where Blanchard and Bleichert box, which steals shamelessly from Scorcese's "Raging Bull", is more of the same. Of course borrowings have always been integral to De Palma's style, which only points to the poverty of his own.

By the time Elizabeth Short (Mia Kirshner) meets her gruesome fate, the aftermath of which initially serves only as a backdrop, the film is bogged down amidst the two detectives' strange relationship with Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson), the impending release of an obscure hood named Bobbie DeWitt, and a shoot-out that comes out of nowhere. The boys are swiftly transferred to the Dahlia case, but then drift in different directions. Blanchard seems to go obsessively crazy, while Bleichert is diverted by slumming, poor-rich-girl Madeleine Linscott (Hillary Swank), who eventually brings her catch home to meet the gallery of monsters known as her family.

There's plenty of period detail (not always accurate; e.g., STOP signs were yellow then, not red), fancy camera work, and stylish sets and costumes (much of which would seem to be out of the financial reach of the principals), but neither the characters nor the story lines are compelling. Bleichert finally gets to the bottom of the mess, though not many people will find either his path or the resolution remotely convincing.

James Ellroy's novel deserves a better treatment and Elizabeth Short's memory deserves more respect (she didn't make stag films), but directors like De Palma don't understand novelists' vision or the value of restraint. As a result we have films that feature elaborate trappings, shallow performances, and showy direction, rather than ones offering genuine depth and compassion.

There were nine people in the theater when I sat down to watch "The Black Dahlia" yesterday afternoon. An hour later only three remained. Those who left made the better decision.