It is a curious cultural world. If Alan Rawsthorne had written a concert piece playing twenty minutes and forty seconds, its first public performance would have been a major event, not only from the musical, but also from the journalistic standpoint. But since he wrote a film score of that length instead, the cultural press, musical or general, has not so much as noticed its existence. The film itself, Adrian de Potier’s and Basil Wright’s ‘The Drawings of Leonardo da Vinci ’, has naturally been discussed in great and enthusiastic detail; and since films are reviewed by film critics, it seems unreasonable to complain that the music went by the journalistic board. But as soon as we think in elementary terms of value rather than in conventional terms of cultural departments, the situation proves absurd. After all, however excellent the film may be, the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci have been there before and a priori a cinematic exhibition or demonstration of them cannot be a work of art. On the other hand, it