For some reason, probably because it's in technicolor, "Bahama Passage" is billed above "Unholy Partners" in a dreary show at the U.T. Actually, both features can take a back seat to Donald Duck. Not only does the short present Donald in his customary good form, it proves in a fast ten minutes that Hollywood can propagandize for defense without the usual conglomeration of platitudes and bathing-beauties.

Largely because Edward Arnold makes a convincing underworld mogul and Edward G. Robinson a passable newspaper editor, "Unholy Partners" is a fairly entertaining cross between the rise of a modern tabloid and the familiar gangster story. If they had cut the pretty blurbs about the ethics of American journalism, this film would have been a well paced cops-and-robbers epic. As it stands, the action sags hopelessly about every fifteen minutes and Hollywood getting out a newspaper remains strictly authentic Hollywood, strictly unauthentic journalism. Laraine Day's presence is welcome, not so much because she loves Robinson bravely to the bitter end, but because we know at last she's safe from Dr. Kildare.

"Bahama Passage" is a rough trip at best. We understand Stirling Hayden recently resigned from the movies. This picture explains why. It isn't just that he can't act; Hollywood is filled with handsome fellows who drag down nice salaries despite that minor disability. Hayden, in addition, has a voice like a fog-horn and--what's worse--is so pretty he detracts from the allure of Madeleine Carroll, who is growing kind of fat herself. The story involves a colony of Negroes living on a subtropical island who, we couldn't figure out exactly why, can't subsist without a descendant of the white founders watching over them from the ancestral mansion. For two hours, Madeleine chases Stirling from cave to bamboo-tree, limping rather creditably through a script so bad that it makes even the talented Flora Robson appear ridiculous.