Sunday, Fi took me to a screening at the Billy Wilder theater at the Hammer Museum (part of the “The Talking Pictures of Manoel de Oliveira” series). Made in 1942, the film is wall-to-wall with syrupy music and well-timed mugging between members of its young cast. Boy looks at girl, eyes go wide, boy is rejected, bottom lip juts out in clown sadness. The film is constructed entirely of these moments of oh-aren’t-they-cute-ness, but manages with only a tinge of darkness at its core (a child is …