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The Isle of Paradise (Independent). In the last year or two, a great deal has been heard about Bali, the Dutch East Indian island whose natives live like Utopians and raise three crops of rice a year. Reporter Hickman Powell wrote a book, The Last Paradise, about Bali; Caricaturist Miguel Covarrubias last year exhibited his Balinese paintings; Balinese musicians astonished Paris two years ago. The Isle of Paradise, first feature-length cinema on the subject, will multiply the already large number of people who long to go to Bali. It shows a Balinese day from sunrise to sunset. There is nothing very startling about what goes on, but it all seems very pleasant. The cheerful natives, amazingly handsome, dressed for hot weather, have all the paraphernalia of civilization except machines. They spend the morning marketing, chatting, weaving, carving statues, attaching gold leaf to bolts of cloth, swimming, raising rice, flying kites with prodigious, sarcastic tails. Main event of a high-grade Bali day is a cremation, preceded by dances, bull races, prayers. Corpses of dead Balinese are placed in ornamental towers mounted on floats to be carried about the island. After a cremation, the ashes are scattered in the sea.
Charles Tillyer Trego, who made The Isle of Paradise, first saw Bali when he was working in Cunard Line's advertising department, preparing advertisements for world" cruises. He went back with a camera, found it easy to bribe natives with rings, shirts, hardware, to perform. One mishap occurred: 15 Balinese, tipsy on mild wine and carrying a cremation tower, ran over him and his camera. His picture, the leisurely record of a six-month visit, is beautifully photographed and has the warm, informal authenticity that most travelogs lack. Good shot: a Balinese youth (Trego's valet, who refused to leave Bali for any salary) smiling slowly as he watches a dance.
The Night Club Lady (Columbia). Scheduled for last week at Manhattan's Paramount Theatre was Night Mayor, patterned after New York's slick James J. ("Jimmy") Walker who resigned last week. It was suppressed, and The Night Club Lady, a murder mystery in which all the suspects have a motive for killing the victim, substituted. Police Commissioner Thatcher Colt (Adolphe Menjou) is a wrestling devotee who constantly demonstrates new holds to his drunken friend Tony (Skeets Gallagher). Learning that Lola Carewe (Mayo Methot), a blackmailing night club hostess, has had her life threatened, he takes Tony and six detectives to her apartment, mounts guard. Sitting in a circle of detectives Hostess Carewe awaits the zero hour, listens nervously to appropriate wisecracks from drink-befuddled Tony. Promptly at 12:01, the appointed hour, she screams, drops dead.
Finding no visible marks on her body, mystified Commissioner Colt orders an autopsy. Next day he calls all the suspects to his house, announces that they all have criminal records, bids them good day. Only clew to the murder is a small bamboo tube which is missing after the meeting. Going to the home of Dr. Lengle (William von Brincken) Commissioner Colt finds the tube, and Lengle dead. The contents of the tube make audiences gasp. Explanation of the murders causes natural historians to scoff.