Film Spectator (1927-1928)

February 5, 1927 Page Three into German officers, and situated on the River Rhine, three miles east of Hootsiedoodle, there are two young men, one a son of a Scotch Presbyterian minister, and the other the offspring of a union of a hand-organ grinder and his second cousin.” — all of which would have nothing to do with the story, but would be shown in deference to movie traditions. As I said. Brown scoffs at traditions. He puts his characters on a train and never tells us where they are going, or why. It makes no difference, for we go with them and soon learn that they are going home. When he wishes to introduce John Smith he has a character speaking the title, “It’s a fine day, John Smith,” and we know who John Smith is. But despite the dearth of information that Clarence gives us there is nothing obscure about the story. Everything we need to know to help to an understanding of it is spread before us. It moves by quickly, each scene the logical sequel to the preceding one. There are not a great many titles, as there is no occasion for them, for Brown has the ability to tell a story with action, and to compose beautiful scenes with which to tell it. The photography in Flesh and the Devil is a splendid example of the high degree of art that can be reached with the camera, and Brown was fortunate in having such an artist as William Daniels to turn the crank. The art direction of^O^jj^ic Gibbons and Frederick Hope enriched the production uiffllpit is one of the most satisfying to the discriminating eye rlfctj^ver have been produced in an American studio. “Flesh and Devil” Great Work of Art Because I put the leading of a dog across a scene before a reference to the emotions with which Flesh and the Devil deals, I do not wish to convey the impression that I consider their relative importance in that order. I merely dismissed the obvious features of the picture before approaching its soul. This picture is great, not for the qualities I have mentioned, but for those I yet have to deal with. It is an inspiring story of a great friendship, a friendship which ennobles two young men and is the biggest thing in their lives. Gradually the screen is learning things it should have known years ago. Stella Dallas teaches it that mother love had been a neglected subject. Beau Geste teaches it that brotherly love is a good film theme. Flesh and the Devil teaches it that there is a good story in friendship. There are a lot of other good themes lying around unused, by one r n Air n n 1 1 lx ^ a I n lx lx ^ ^ ^ ..x Xlx ^ ^ J ^ ^ ' ^ ■ L ^ has a similar outburst, human, logical, revealing her powers as they seldom have been revealed. Lars Hanson, always repressed, always the master of his emotions, gives a performance that more firmly fixes his place among real screen actors. George Fawcett, that brilliant veteran who never fails us, gains further laurels in this picture, and Eugenie Besserer is a sympathetic and appealing mother, duplicating the success she achieved in The Fire Brigade. Barbara Kent, a winsome young miss, whom I can not recall having seen before, rises to the heights demanded by several strong scenes. Flesh and the Devil has some of the best love scenes yet seen on the screen. Clarence Brown has the good taste to stage such scenes in places that provide the lovers with some seclusion. Henry King in Barbara Worth has Vilma Banky going into Ronald Colman’s arms in full view of a multitude, which not only is bad taste, but is poor drama, for it robs love of the delicious thrill that is accentuated by the privacy that envelops it. There is but one witness to but one of the love scenes between Miss Garbo and Gilbert. Unfortunately for them, but essential to the story, is the fact that the witness is Greta’s husband. But I can not go on enumerating the virtues of Flesh and the Devil. It would occupy too much space. But I must not overlook a word of praise for Marion Ainslee’s titles, which stick strictly to the job of telling the story, even if at times they wander from the path of correct punctuation. Considering the picture as a whole I hereby give it a fixed place on my list of ten best pictures for 1927. It is too much to hope that there will be ten others that would displace it. Months ago I recorded in The Spectator my respect for Clarence Brown as a director. That respect has deepened. Only a truly great director could elevate a program picture to one of the greatest works of art ever produced in a motion picture studio. My hat is off to the man who did it. * * Erich Pomraer and American Pictures HE thoughtful person contemplating motion pictures must arrive at the conclusion that the most interesting person connected with them is Erich Pommer. It is Pommer’s relation to pictures, not his personality, that makes him interesting. For all I know to the contrary he may have an interesting personality, but it is his works, not the man, that we are interested in. While he was director-general of UFA that organization turned they will be clubbed into the heads of producers. ^rfc^^»j^^pt^scores of pictures that had so little merit that they never forgets that his picture is the story of a friendship A passionate love story runs through it, but we never lose sight of the friendship. There is a glorious ending — too good to tell you what it is. But it gives one renewed faith in the future of the magnificent art to the advancement of which The Spectator is dedicated and the activities of so many of its readers devoted. The ending is logical, not “happy.” Under Brown’s direction the acting of the principals is sincere and convincing. Jack Gilbert returns from exile in Africa to find that the woman whom he loves passionately has married his friend. He takes the blow standing up — a magnificent example of. acting. He has a smile and a handclasp for his friend. He is true to their youthful pact. But a time comes when he has stood all he can. He lets go, and we have some more acting, equally notable, but greatly different. Greta Garbo could not be shown at a profit in this country. The company produced pictures so rapidly that it was not humanly possible for Pommer to give personal attention to all of them. At least such is my conclusion after reading in an English paper a review of UFA activities during the last year that Pommer was with it. However, while he was picture-making in Europe Pommer gave personal attention to every detail of the production of six pictures. We have seen five of them in this country — The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Last Laugh, Variety, Waltz Dream, and Faust. The sixth. Metropolis, a million dollar production, we are to see. Five different directors made these pictures, but the whole half dozen reflect but one mind, that of Pommer, establishing it as the greatest picture mind in the world. His five pictures that have been shown here have given us a new conception of screen art. Con