George VI’s award for Malta was accompanied by a telegram, which stated that ‘To honour her brave people I award the George Cross to the island fortress of Malta’ (The Times, 17 April 1942, 4). A tendency to collectivise the islanders and to represent them by means of the island itself is also evident in Malta G.C. In telling the story of ‘this little, brave George Cross island in the Mediterranean’ the film focuses on the damage that has been wrought on Malta’s landscapes and townscapes. When it talks of ‘her triumphant survival’ it is the island that is being referred to. During one of the many scenes of bomb damage the commentary states that the ‘piled rubble bears the symbol of her [Malta’s] stubborn courage’.

The camera does not dwell on the islanders as it does on the devastation; for the most part they have a background role. They are depicted as being ‘an old and proud people’ and also a ‘people of old traditions and simple manners’. We see the donkey-drawn carts that the farmers use, and we witness the islanders’ prayers and genuflections during a bombing raid. There is a brief summary of the island’s past: ‘Here came Carthaginians, Romans, Greeks and Vandals’, but the film makes little mention of the reasons for British rule, merely stating that Malta has ‘always looked to the outside world for most of her necessities’.

War activities are pictured in greater detail. There is extensive footage of supply ships, an enemy attack, and an Allied bombing raid. Although one reviewer commended the film’s ‘expressive photography and good continuity’ (The Cinema, 20 January 1943, 15) it is sometimes apparent that the military scenes are edited together from footage shot by different film units. Moreover, it is the variance in picture quality and lighting sources that gives this away. Some elements are staged, for example the shots of locals pointing and looking up into a clear sky, which is spliced with grainy footage of aircraft flying overhead. Similarly, the revelation of the award of the George Cross in the Malta Times is a sequence filmed retrospectively and performed for the camera. The narrative highlights real footage of military combat - ‘These scenes of Wellington bombers […] were taken when the storm was at its height’ –  and unsurprisingly  is the worst quality film on display.

These war activities are situated both geographically and historically. At the beginning of the film there is good use of maps, outlining Malta’s strategic position in the Mediterranean and illustrating the position of the enemy’s forces. The film is structured chronologically. After the description of Malta’s military importance, the film flashes back to the pre-war life of the island. It then alternates between scenes of the latest air raids and an account of the islanders’ progress throughout the war.

The film received largely positive reviews. The Cinema was the most effusive, both in its praise for the documentary and in valuing its usefulness: ‘Malta, G.C., must eventually be shown throughout the world, but meanwhile it demonstrates the glory of the British Empire in a fashion to thrill even the critical, while its propaganda value is immeasurable’ (The Cinema, 20 January 1943, 15). The Documentary News Letter was more downbeat, stating that ‘Malta obviously deserved a “we can take it” film if ever a place did’, but adding that ‘It is probably nobody’s fault if this kind of tribute seems nowadays to be a bit dated (DNL, January 1943, 170).The Kinematograph Weekly praised the ‘carefully phrased commentary, smoothly delivered by Laurence Olivier’ (KW, 4 February 1943, 25). To modern ears, however, Olivier can occasionally sound strident and overly dramatic. Nevertheless, although this narrative is at times triumphant – ‘This has been her life! This has been her history! This is her glory!’ – it is rarely overbearing. In fact, in many scenes it refrains from direct comment, allowing the images to speak for themselves. There is no detailing of the complications of defending the island, and the British resources that have been put into this operation are, if anything, downplayed. Instead, there is what one reviewer described as the film’s ‘religious overtone’ (DNL, January 1943, 170). Malta is ‘the island of St. Paul’ and has stood firm ‘against the infidel’, her suffering is helping to atone for the sins of the world: ‘she stood that freedom might survive.’

Richard Osborne (May 2009)