We from Kronstadt

1919: a detachment of Bolshevik sailors defending an outpost of Petrograd is wiped out but for one man, who escapes back to the Red lines, returns with reinforcements and wins the day. Graham Greene's unqualified rave (see his collected film criticism) was presumably more a matter of ideology than aesthetics. Hard otherwise to imagine him being impressed by the B-Western characterisation, the humourlessness, the blanket denial of complexity - though the energetically arranged battle scenes may have appealed to the child in him. His description, 'an unusual mixture of poetry and heroics,' suggests Ford but, really, this is totalitarian film-making at its most dispiriting.