Silver Screenings

Dear Reader, we (yours truly) spend a fair amount of time criticizing movies for being sloppy or too hastily done.

So now we’ve just watched a mystery that appears to be Neat and Tidy, and we’re still not happy. What’s worse, filmmakers are trying to shock the audience and appease the requirements of the Production Code, at the same time. The result is thoroughly dissatisfying.

The Walls Came Tumbling Down (1946) is a mystery involving the apparent suicide of a priest. His death alerts an assortment of individuals, including a newspaper reporter, two violent missionaries, a suspicious book dealer, and a mysterious young woman.

The problem, of course, is the Motion Picture Production Code; it could never allow such a scandalous portrayal of the clergy in 1946. So filmmakers have to quickly tell us nah, it’s not suicide, it’s murder, see? And those missionaries are imposters!

Curiously, all the characters here are exceptionally well-mannered, even when they’re punching each other or waving guns about.

This sends a mixed message. The movie has the look and feel of a film noir, but it never wades very deeply into noir waters.

We soon discover the business at hand. Everyone is desperate to locate two antiquarian Bibles because they contain clues re: the whereabouts of an old, rare painting.

A professor at the School of Fine Arts tells us this painting is the last work of Leonardo da Vinci. Titled Joshua and the Walls of Jericho, it’s a depiction of the Biblical account of the fall of Jericho. “If [the painting] ever turned up, every art gallery in the world would be bidding for it,” says the professor with remarkable understatement.

What art lover – or criminal – wouldn’t love to get their hands on such a piece?

The problem with creating hype around a lost da Vinci painting is you’ve eventually gotta show it to the audience. We’re given a two-second glimpse of said painting, and it’s definitely not da-Vinci-esque. But, really, who could produce a painting in days or weeks what da Vinci may have taken months or years to complete?

Frankly, this film lacks tension and suspense, and deals in convenient plot devices, but there are some interesting surprises. One is the cinematography, which employs some truly original camera angles.

The film is also cleverly book-ended (so to speak), with images involving shoes in mid-air.

Even though the Art Dep’t wasn’t able to produce a convincing High Renaissance masterpiece, the Props Dep’t managed to procure a couple of antiquarian-looking Bibles. However, to our horror, a character opens one of these rare Bibles outside, in a rain storm – but perhaps centuries-old publications are more water resistant than we thought.

Another interesting aspect is the untrustworthiness of the main character. He lies easily and convincingly, and Pits other characters Against Each Other. Good thing he’s on our side.

Ultimately, what can a person make of this lopsided film, which promises much, but delivers little?

The script never says how much the missing da Vinci masterpiece is worth, although it estimates the street value of the two antiquarian Bibles to be $3,000 (approx. $49,000 US today).

How much are da Vinci’s paintings worth, anyway? It’s difficult to say, considering his works are generally housed in museums. However, according to Christie’s Auctions, a rediscovered da Vinci painting, Salvator Mundi, sold at a 2017 auction for an astonishing $450,312,500 US.

“This stunning price reflects the extreme rarity of paintings by Leonardo da Vinci,” says the Christie’s website. “[T]here are fewer than 20 in existence acknowledged as being from the artist’s own hand, and all apart from Salvator Mundi are in museum collections.”

Anyhoo, getting back to The Walls Came Tumbling Down. It may be worth a watch if you have an interest in the dark side of antiquarian merchandise dealing, or in films that don’t know what they want to be when they grow up.

Our recommendation, however, is to give this one a pass.

The Walls Came Tumbling Down starring Lee Bowman, Marguerite Chapman, Edgar Buchanan. Directed by Lothar Mendes. Written by Jo Eisinger & Wilfrid H. Pettitt. Columbia Pictures, 1946, B&W, 82 mins.