Picture Play Magazine (Jul - Dec 1929)

66 Raymond Hackett, H. B. Warner, and Norma Shearer glor courtroom drama in "The Trial of Mary Dugan." JUST when some of us thought we couldn't bear another courtroom drama and blamed talkies for the surfeit, along comes "The Trial of Mary Dugan" to make us glad there is such a thing as judicial procedure. For it glorifies the courtroom, with a vengeance. There is only one scene that doesn't transpire in the halls of justice. The rest of it concerns the trial of a chorus girl charged with murdering her sugar daddy. Not only this, but the picture ends with the verdict and doesn't trail Mary Dugan to an apple orchard, with a fade-out in the sunset. The stage play is followed scrupulously word for word, with even less departure from the original than was employed in that triumph of last month, "The Letter." But evidence of the picture's success must rest for a moment while the personal success of Norma Shearer is duly recorded. Too much praise cannot be accorded her. Speech has made her far more of an artist than she ever was in silence, and with it she has achieved a new personality — more sincere, less given to the futile sweetness which, with an apology, I confess often irked me, and a forthright sincerity that is a delight to behold and listen to. When one does listen to Miss Shearer, as Mary Dugan, he hears a voice that is capable of all the range of feeling expected of the character, yet with none of the obvious effort of an actress striving to make her points. It is supremely natural, but it is not hampered by being merely that and nothing more. It is poignant, dramatic, tender, appealing. Best of all, at no time does Miss Shearer seem conscious of "using" her voice to play upon her auditors. But she does it — and how ! The talkies are certainly her salvation, and from now on we can expect such performances from her as are the prerogative of one of the foremost stars of the §creen. It is a long and taxing role she plays, too, this Mary Dugan who is arrested with the body of the murdered Edgar Rice in her arms, as she cries, "Oh, my poor Jimmy — my poor Jimmy !" Then her trial begins, with the wolfish District Attorney Galwey prosecuting the case of the people versus Mary Dugan. I shall not report the progress of the trial, nor hint at its outcome, for the story is a mystery melodrama. Unmasking the real murderer is its high light and climax, as ingeniously brought about as the most baffling detective story you ever read. But I will tell you that Mary is defended by her brother, Jimmy, in order to make clear that the love interest in the picture is that of sister and brother ; and also because you will see in Jimmy a new player, a recruit from the stage of whom you will see much from now on — and be glad of it. He is Raymond Hackett, whose ringing voice will echo long after the film is ended. Unlike most of his stage brothers, he photographs in a way that doesn't make you think that a mistake has been made in submitting him for the favor of the fans. Distinctly he "belongs" one hundred per cent. I say this in full knowledge of the many others from the stage who most decidedly do not. Like Norma Shearer, Lewis Stone also makes his talkie debut. Naturally, his success as the attorney for the defense is no surprise to those who have seen him on the stage, or even to those who are aware of his long experience behind the footlights before the movies claimed him. H. B. Warner, as the prosecutor, is equally fine in his first dialogue film, and Lilyan Tashman's voice matches perfectly her sleek, feline personality. Altogether, I found not a single disappointment in "The Trial of Mary Dugan." I am positive you will not, either. The Fate of a Flirt. You will see a new Mary Pickford, in "Coquette." The sacrifice of her curls for a bob, her decision to act in a dialogue picture and to play a grown-up role as wrell — all these comparative miracles have come to pass, as advertised, and have resulted in a personality that bears little resemblance to the precocious and pathetic child of yore. Miss Pickford strives valiantly to gratify the interest that attaches to this most important step in her career, but she does not reach the heights of inspiration expected of the momentous occasion. Both the picture and her performance miss perfection. Each is, in fact, disappointing, though this will no more lessen the popular appeal of the exhibit than a daisy chain would stop Niagara Falls. "Coquette" is a picture for the heterogeneous public rather than the specialized critic. The ideal picture satisfies both critic and fan. This is a consummation devoutly wished for by every star, whether they admit it or not. Therefore Miss Pick