The current furore over "Grand Illusion," the film now playing at the Fine Arts, makes it fairly obvious that this is an excellent picture. Although it is no epoch-making production, Jean Renoir's slightly idealistic picture is certainly different from the movies produced in our Hollywood. On the average audience this differences has a great shock-effect, and it is this effect that is in turn misinterpreted as the stamp of a superior film.

The difference lies in the small scale of the entire piece. The characters are relatively few, the scenes simple, the action consistently underplayed. The touches which strike the American audience are the little ones--the close-up of Von Stroheim's gloved fist as his French friend, and prisoner, dies; the scene in which the escaped Marechal talks French to a mute German cow. These flashes convey feeling in a way that Hollywood seldom uses, but it would be unfair to say that the best Hollywood technique is any less effective.

As regards acting, the honors are all Von Stroheim's. The former stormy petrol of Hollywood has in exile created a far greater characterization than ever he did before. His performance would seem to be the one great thing of "Grand Illusion." Although neither plot, treatment, direction, or his fellow actors maintain the superbly high standard that Von Stroheim sets, the picture is far above average.