Love, dislike, spit, kiss In the 30s, silent cinema was replaced by sound, and many films feel this transitional state. Directors mastered, tried to guess the right direction and, at the same time, did not rush to get rid of habits. It was interesting and original. Heifitz and Zarki began with harsh, “heavy” paintings, and they continued. And although the "Denechki" stuck between "My Motherland" and "Deputy of the Baltic", they from the very first frames surround the summer heat and lazy carelessness of the provincial town where the tank company stopped.
The commander of one of the tanks Belokon (Simonov) rents a room in the house of a student Tony (Okunevskaya), whose image of a languid girl migrated directly from the silent era. Mutual feelings flare up, but on his mind are teachings and an ever-breaking machine, she allegedly has exams, although I did not notice any special craving for studying. Much more effort is spent on desperate attempts to attract the attention of the tanker. Belokon himself only occasionally breaks away from business and lovingly calls Tonya “foolish”.
These premeditated grievances and the irreconcilable struggle of two characters - essentially two grown children - are very amusing, especially in the first half of the film. The effect enhances a number of comic characters: two crew members, also in love with a beautiful student and competing for her with each other, and the local couple Loshak (Cherkasov) – Kika (Jeimo), a bald and a short man, who all night walk under the moon, and during the day sleep in lessons.
Funny dialogue and visual gags alternate, which, again, is a sign of the times. The directors clearly rested their souls and experimented with the combination of shots. As a result, the film came out very beautiful, and the flow of one scene into another is still impressive. That’s just the last half an hour, given to tank exercises and too long ending, seem superfluous. The fuse was not enough, and simple characters were exhausted.
But personally, I am still closer to such light, apolitical comedies without excessive pathos than the collective-farm musicals of Alexandrov or Pyriev, where the number of comic scenes is no higher, and there is nothing to say about the quality. It is a pity that the vector of the 30s shifted in their direction, and Zarkhi and Heifitz no longer turned to the genre, but what to do. All vectors were in the hands of other people.
7 out of 10