Laughter

The feature was Kitty Foyle, knov/n in Berlin as Fraeulein Kitty. Couples strolled toward the Kronen Lichtspiele in search of a few laughs, an occasional tear, and the chance to forget Germany. They did not find what they were looking for. U.S. Information Control was trying a Hollywood sneak preview on Germans. The substitute picture was Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator.

The Germans laughed when Charlie Chaplin, as the Jewish barber, shaved a customer in time with Brahms. They laughed when Chaplin, as Dictator Hynkel, danced around the balloon world until it finally exploded in his face. But slowly the laughter thinned, embarrassed, shocked silence hovered in the stifling little theater. No one laughed at the concentration-camp scenes nor at Charlie's girl friend who hit a Storm Trooper over the head with a frying pan. There was hardly a ripple when the Jews matched pennies to determine who would kill the Dictator.

When it was over, the audience chattered excitedly. This part of the show was prima; that part schlecht. The whole was like a nightmare to them. The tragedy of Naziism was still too close for laughter--and so was the time when Germans had cheered the Great Dictator. In a poll taken by the Army they voted against further showing of the film in Germany now. Wrote the Tagesspiegel next day: "It seems as if reality had only to be copied and satire was readymade. . . ."

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The "Great Dictator" of another, gentler age was presented to the subject of its satire--Japan. Last week, for the first time, Dai Nippon saw a production of Gilbert & Sullivan's The Mikado. The historic performance took place in bombed Tokyo's Ernie Pyle Theater. The Japanese in the audience laughed heartily.

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