Exhibitors Herald and Moving Picture World (Oct-Dec 1928)

52 EXHIBITORS HERALD and MOVING PICTURE WORLD October 27, 1928 W SERVICE TALKS Incorporated in this department of Exhibitors Herald, which is a department containing news, information and gossip on current productions, is the Moving Picture World department, "Through the Box Office Window.*' "THE DOCKS OF NEW YORK'' D EAR FOLKS: I don't believe I've mentioned in my previous letters the trend in leading men, the upturn in popularity of the George Bancrofts and the Victor McLaglens and the down-droop of vogue as affecting the merely handsome male. It is a pretty important thing, and a pretty good thing for pictures. For one reason, it will bring into the theatre a lot of male adults who have considered the motion picture, since its beginning, as a form of diversion for women and children. For another, it will permit the picturization of a great many strong stories which simply haven't been practicable under the old scheme of things. I spoke last week of "The River Pirate," in which Victor McLaglen was the chief performer. If you've seen the picture, you know that it simply couldn't have been successfully produced with a Harold Lockwood type of hero. This week I mention "The Docks of New York," in which George Bancroft is the principal performer among the males and Betty Compson is the chief player of opposite sex. Neither of these pictures would be worth sitting through with handsome heroes. With McLaglen and Bancroft they are great stuff. In "The Docks of New York" Mr. Bancroft is a stoker who has one night's shoreleave. A burly bozo, the stoker has definite plans. They include liquor and woman. He is interrupted by a despairing girl's suicide (Betty Compson's) and drags her out of the drink. When he has subjugated the waterfront scene in which this takes place — the barfolk and the bouncers — he proceeds to the having of the good time which he had in mind at the beginning. This includes a fight or two, which he wins so easily as to make them seem quite routine affairs, and a wedding of the girl he has rescued. The night and its events make up the major portion of the picture. Morning brings unanticipated complications and the evening of the second day brings the end, a quite different and unexpected one. There is never a drop in interest, never an obvious planting of circumstance or wisecrack, and never a dip into cheap realism or shock psychology. Bancroft is better as the stoker than he has been as gangster or detective, as either of which he has been better than any oilier actor. Hetty Compson may now be referred to as the girl in "The Dorks of New York" and no doubt she'll be glad to have people cease speaking of her T. O. Service as the girl in "The Miracle Man." She is better in this picture than in that one, or any other. Mitchell Lewis, whose villaninies have always been a pet aversion of this writer, is self-contained and wholly excellent as the stoker's boss. Baclanova, to whom I've recently bowed a belated appreciation, is only a few shades less successful than Miss Compson in a not altogether different type of assignment. The four perform as well and as entertainingly as I hope — or care — to see picture players perform in this or any other year. As you know, I am not at all interested in your relations with Paramount or your bookings. But you know, too, that I like to have you see the better pictures of this or any other company so that you will know what the market Ls at the time when you go into the market for pictures. I should say this is one of the better pictures you should see in order to know quite all you should know about the business of operating a motion picture theatre. "SHOW PEOPLE" A jt\.NOTHER picture which you should not miss if you are to speak and transact business knowingly in the motion picture industry is "Show People." The Hearst newspapers have told you many things about it, and I have no doubt that you have heard of it from other sources, but you should see it nevertheless. It isn't the sort of thing that can be effectually told about. (I often wonder whether any picture is.) The papers have made a good deal of mention of Mr. William Haines' part in the picture, as they have of the momentary presence of Chaplin, Fairbanks, Gilbert, Glyn and a flock of others. The others arc there, of course, like an equivalent amount of scenery, but Haines is there as a sort of comic relief co-star and this seems to me about the right occupation for his talents. In the relatively brief stretches accorded his mimicry, juggling and — even — emoting, the boy is good. He is a perfect running mate for Miss Davics in these latter days of her expertly frivolous comedy. The story, I suppose you know, is the one about the girl who comes to Hollywood to become a star and docs so. It has the Usual gag stuff, unusually done, and it has the technicul aspect of studio production plastered all over the screen. Hut it has, too, a bit of drama in the girl's ultimate discovery that all's exactly as it is and not as she's preferred to believe it is. And it is eye-pleasing, up-to-date and in the main credible. One of those nice touches which have been showing up in Marion Davies latter pictures has Peggy Pepper (Miss Davies) encountering Marion Davies (the picture star) on the M-G-M lot and going swiftly on her way without the double-exposure business that almost anybody would have indulged. Good taste. The title, I suppose, is all right. It seems well designed for advertising purposes and the picture does concern show people — that is, motion picture people. It concerns them quite pleasantly, amusingly and perhaps informatively, although nothing heroic is attempted in this latter department. It is, as I said before, one of the pictures you should see if you are to know all you should know about the motion picture business and the motion picture market. ALAS, RED GRANGE [ SUPPOSE all of you know who Red Grange is — or was. A few years back he was the Illinois half-back who ran rings around varied and assorted opponents and became a national headline. A little later, school days over, he was the hero of a football picture made by F B 0 and quite successful in the Middle West and in such outlying places as had been apprised of Mr. Grange's terrific gridiron talent and where the neighborhood was not ag'in him for spilling their favorite squadsmen all over the greensward. Still later, he was the professional football player whose reputation did so much to make professional football what it is today, whatever that may be. With that introduction, and with slightly bowed head, I sadly record the last chapter. Mr. Red Grange is appearing this week with Mr. Paul Ash as a co-feature of the Oriental theatre stage show (Chicago speaking). He comes on in white flannels and brown coat, speaks lines with the gals, then goes into a dance (!!!) with a sort of prima donna. More, they sing; But even that — too much as it is — is not enough. On his second entrance he wears yellow satin moleskins and for his final appearance he runs a standing touchdown on the treadmill that Ben Hur used to use for his horses. Believe it or not, I have seen all this with mine own eyes. With heavy heart I close the record and quake at prospect of a future in which, since this has happened, anything dreadful may transpire.