Exhibitors Herald (1927)

40 EXHIBITORS HERALD March 19, 1927 “Salvation Hunters,” perhaps I can begin to reflect the great and extremely pleasant surprise that was mine on Thursday last at McVickers. This “Flesh and the Devil” is first of all a picture; by which I mean that it emanates from a story, back of which there is an idea. It has been my experience, generally speaking, that real stories and ideas may be found more often in tbe “good little pictures” wbicb do not break New York Capitol records. A distinct pleasure, then, to find both story and idea in this picture that did that thing, and (more distinct and more pleasant) to find them conveyed in a picture made in our own little country by a director with a name so unpicturesque as Clarence Brown. The yarn is not, as the title might lead you to believe, primarily concerned with the element commonly described as fleslily. There is enough of this, in fact enough for two or three ordinary pictures, but tbe major theme is a Damon-Pythias sort of friendship between a couple of young German boys and tbe men they grow to be. For keeping tbis uppermost, without making tbe effort obvious, I award tbe first of my Service medals for 1927 to Mr. Brown herewith. To Mr. Brown, also, I owe a special debt for demonstrating the truth of my frequently voiced claim that the home boys are at least as quick and sure witb tbe directorial or cinematographic nifty as the overseas men. In the sequence supposedly lighted through a rain-drenched windowpane, in the horseback-boat-train return of Gilbert with hoofs, engine and locomotive singing “Felicitas,” in the mist-on-the-riven episode and the shadowgraphically intensified duel scene. Brown calls everybody’s bets and sets in a stack of blues on his own. And these are but four of perhaps a dozen gems that adorn without at any time for so long as an instant interrupting the narrative. Gilbert, whom I’ve believed tbe women to be cuckoo about for reasons imperceptible to tbe masculine eye, in this displays the first disposition toward characterization which I (who have yet to see “The Big Parade”) have detected in him. I’m a bit glad to get on the Gilbert bandwagon now and say tbe man’s an actor. Miss Garbo, also, sold me this time, as did Lars Hanson and the extremely young, fresh and personable Barbara Kent. I’m told, upon inquiry of the HERALD’S incomparable Studio editor, that this youngster is a Wampas star and now I have a new regard for that organization. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer is urged herewith to give the young lady prominent place in all of their pictures which come into my range of vision. But this sort of comment could go on all day. The picture is big enough and good enough to eat up the available column inches to the exclusion of all others. In view of recent letters from Jaysee Jenkins, a certain English exhibitor subscriber and several American ones, however, I cannot give it that space. Therefore I shall merely declare it the best picture I have seen in 1927 and urge you to look at it whether you are signed up with M-G-M or not. It’s the sort of picture you must see if you’re to be as thoroughly “up” on pictures as a picture exhibitor should be. TRAILER INFLUENCES RAILERS are potent. It follows that they should be edited with care and watched (in the auditorium) for effect. A case in point is mentioned as of general application: Balaban & Katz (Publix) houses in the city recently began running a trailer telling patrons that admission to the Oriental (where Paul Ash has lined them up for blocks steadily since opening day) could be had without delay at two duly specified hours. Since the trailer has heen running, I have heard five auditorium conversations running, “Oh, isn't he drawing like he used to?” And a couple of casual excursions to Randolph Street this week proved the trailers to be correct! “THE LADY IN ERMINE” P X ERHAPS it is just as well that the censors who operate on pictures in Chicago for whatever reason they do so operate are unknown to the so-called common people by name or address. Were they accessible in the flesh on such an occasion as the unreeling of “The Lady in Ermine,” or could they he sent infernal machines by convenient post, I am sure the death rate among them would be much higher. While I, familiar with their ways, have no difficulty in disregarding their captional insertions or piecing together the matter on both sides of their deletions, they do wreck a lot of folks’ evenings in a given week. Having disregarded captions set in by the censors, w'ho didn’t do much to this with the actual scissors, I am able to report that “The Lady in Ermine” is an exceptionally well made picture and an extremely interesting one. Although it is not like “Hotel Imperial,” there are points in common which make reference to that story a convenient means of description. In this case it is Italy that is invaded by an Austrian army, it is the elder Bushman who seeks to have his way with the lady, and it is Miss Griffith (as a Countess instead of a hotel maid) who doesn’t fall in with his plans. In addition, there is Ward Crane, as a Crown Prince doing mainly comedy, and Einar Hanson as the count who disguises himself and punctures the enemy’s lines, not to bring rescue but to insert himself into the jam of the plot. And the year is about, if not, 1812. The General Bushman contrives is a less 10-20-30 and immensely more logical one than George Siegmann’s. Mis^ Griffith’s Countess, of course, is different than Miss Negri’s workgirl. The two do what two like them would do in the given circumstances and the ending is about what the ending would be. I cannot be sure, of course, that the picture is so good as I think. It is possible that the guesses I made at the originals for which the censors had substituted captions are better than they were, hence that the story I think the picture is is a better one than the uncut print unfolds. I am quite certain, however, that the picture is a fine, piece of work and much, much too fine for this sort of treatment. (In connection with which I should state that the censorings alluded to prevail only in the spotless Chicago territory.) “THE TAXI DANCER” HERE’S lots of dash and go in “The Taxi Dancer” and it gives Joan Crawford a real break. She’s the person named in the title, you know, and in case you haven’t guessed what a taxi dancer is it’s a staff dancer in one of those pay-as-you-go dance places. The picture also gives Owen Moore another good part, the which he hasn’t been getting so many of lately, and does with it what he has done with such in the several score pictures in which I’ve seen him. The yam’s about a murder committed at one of those apartment parties which (the screen alleges) the cities are full of idle millionaires who delight in throwing. In this stretch, and briefly before and after, Gertrude Astor comes up and takes the lens away from everybody concerned for another one of her jazz etchings. (Who’ll give Miss Astor a real fling at one of these things?) At this point, also, Rockliffe Fellowes dies like the good villain he is when occasion demands and a young actor whose name evades me makes a mess of the murderer assignment. After that it’s criminal stuff, chamber stuff, dishevelled hair, torn dress, good-galin-wrong stuff, finishing back home on the dear old plantation which the heroine owned from the second caption on but which (for reasons obscure if present) didn’t keep her from getting hungry on Broadway. Notwithstanding the somewhat hasty tone of which (yes, press time is here again) “The Taxi Dancer” is a right smart little picture full of peppy gag titles and full enough of entertainment. PRESENTING EAGLE-EYE JOE A .X^LND now, the inevitable having occurred, I present the quite well known Eagle-Eye Joe in his first contribution to this (I’m sure his favorite) department: “Getting Gertie’s Garter” is at the Randolph theatre, Chicago, this week starring Marie Prevost and Charles Ray. I think the picture is a “knockout.” There isn’t a draggy moment in the picture and Charles Ray and Marie Prevost serve laughs one a second. The servant too must be mentioned, because, like Charlie Murray he keeps the people whooping. Charles Ray to me is unequalled as an actor. Mr. Ray is not acting as a farmer in this picture, but he can be put in any role and fill it without difficulty. In view of the excellence of which, I shall take Joe under my wing (if Jenkins will permit) and coach him in the weary business of rearranging word forms for hungry presses.