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Menschen untereinander (roughly People to Each Other) is one of the films that documented the hardships of post-World War I Germany through the eyes of both the proletariat as well as those that remained among the bourgeois. Centered on the mixed-use building owned by the money grubbing Frau Buttner (Erika Glassner) it is a blend of stories from the tenants lives that uses the staff as a sort of Greek chorus to tie the whole thing together, although the different stories barely connect to each other beyond their location.

Director Gerhard Lamprecht, whose career extended from the silents through the Schicklgruber era and beyond, presages the tenement based dramas like City Streets that would become popular in the US in the next decade. Various stories are told, from the poor piano teacher who was impoverished by post-War inflation to a sickly balloon vendor, but eventually we come down to two main story arcs. Probably the more interesting of the two is the tale of the kindly jeweler whose pregnant daughter (Aud Egede-Nissen) is abandoned by her career climbing husband (Metropolis' Alfred Abel) after she (inexplicably, at least to me) ends up in jail. Meanwhile, his other daughter, lovely Renate Brausewetter falls in love with the church mouse poor, former somebody, Paul Bildt. The second equally satisfying story-line involves Frau Buttner getting swindled out of her precious money by super greasy 'diamond merchant' Aribert Wäscher.

Lamprecht focuses on the mostly naturalistic performances although at a cost. Takes and scenes do tend to go on a trifle too long but for the most part things keep you interested throughout. Restored from 16mm prints in 2013 it looks quite good and the print I viewed had an impressive piano score, regrettably uncredited. Apparently there are a missing 6 minutes and while not really impacting what remains I suspect some of the other character's stories might have been resolved as a few of them just seem to disappear from the film. Worth seeing.

There is one thing to commend Scorpio 70 and that is that it manages to inject a hint of cinematic sophistication into what is otherwise a pretty dreary late '60s-early '70s sexploitation film. Taking cues from the stylings of the nouvelle vague it uses a non-linear style of story telling that is unexpected in a low rent production and hints that maybe there was a hint of talent behind the lens.

Couples join a cruise on what must surely be the world's smallest passenger ship, among them newlyweds, too long weds, and a scheming heroin importer and his rent-a-wife. Much like Sunset Boulevard (probably the only time I'll ever use that film while discussing a low budget grinder), it starts with a body being hauled out of the water and we then see how it got there.

A not particularly attractive cast doesn't really help things either but they're generally competent given the level of the script. Helped by rare color photography but it's a pretty hard slog, best for devotees only.

Made in the depths of WWII, Prasten som slog knockout is Sweden's answer to Angels with Dirty Faces or Going My Way with the tried and true story of a kindly priest (Allan Bohlin) who tames rebellious youth. In this case he's got to use his boxing skills to get a building for the young people of the village so they can pursue more wholesome pastimes instead of causing trouble for the locals, but he's one up on Bing as he gets to kiss his sweetheart, the radiant Gaby Stenberg before the final credits.

A couple of things make this an interesting watch, first is that the war is definitely a part of the story, if only tangentially. The story kicks off as Bohlin meets Swedish-American boxing promoter (go University of Wisconsin!) on a freighter bound for Sweden that is running the U-Boat gauntlet back to Sweden, a scene that did not require that particular detail. Next is the fighter that Bohlin must take on to get the money for the youth center is an Italian named Graziano, not Rocky of course, but eerily prescient. The cream on top is Sigge Furst as the ultra-oily art dealer who is selling fakes of Gaby's dad's paintings. Furst could easily be the Swedish equivalent of Fritz Rasp and his mere presence makes you want to boo and hiss at the screen.

This not essential cinema but for those with an interest in war time perspectives it's a sturdy little programmer that is an easy watch.