Picture Play Magazine (Jul - Dec 1929)

68 Trie Screen in ReViextf "Christina." Mary, daughter of the hotel proprietor, Colonel Lane. Through no fault of theirs, Rainbow and Billy are discharged from the show and ejected from the hotel on a stormy night. In the city they try to get jobs, but fail. Then Mary finds them, bringing the news that she is really Billy's aunt and that her father expects him to come home with her and be educated. First refusing to give him up, Rainbow later pretends that he has found a job that will take him to England — and Billy must be left behind. From this it is not difficult to see that a happy ending is evolved. The simple story is set forth with vast charm, a great deal of movement and constant dialogue. Between Mr. Dowling's singing, mimicry, and conversation he achieves a genuine characterization. He makes Rainbozv not merely a name, but a person typical of show folks. Rivaling his triumph is that of Frankie Darro, as Billy. Many a time and oft you have seen the boy in silent pictures, for he has grown up in the movies, but never have you seen him deliver such an astonishing performance. Though self-assured to the point of brashness, he is nevertheless engagingly eager and boyish, his acting is amazingly expert, and his voice matches every mood. Marian Nixon, in her longest speaking part so far, is sweetly pleasing, but the time has come when voices that are merely sweetly pleasing are pretty close to blah to me. A Picture Gallery. One thing is certain, and that is the visual beauty of "The Divine Lady." It is a series of exquisite paintings come to life, infused with poetic feeling, spiritual nobility, and some drama. The pity of it is that the lavish outlay of money wasn't able to buy more drama. At that, "The Divine Lady" is not a picture to be sniffed at. It commands respect even though it doesn't thrill, and for many good reasons it should be seen. One of them is the gracious performance of Corinne Griffith, as Lady Hamilton, surely as lovely a presentment of the famous charmer of history as ever Romney painted. Another reason is the finely modulated Lord Nelson of Victor Varconi. He makes England's hero of the Napoleonic wars a gallant gentleman who loves like a poet, dies like a god, and is never like an actor. Then, too, there are H. B. Warner, Ian Keith, Montagu Love, Dorothy Gumming, and Marie Dressier, not to mention thousands of men in the scenes of marine warfare. These scenes, the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar, are magnificently composed and executed, and they too have the quality of animated paintings in telling the story of Emma Hart, the daughter of a cook, who became a power in the history of England through her marriage to a peer and her love for a national hero. As pictured on the screen, it is a sentimental story languidly told, without the vitality that must have caused Lady Hamilton to defy convention in acknowledging her love for Lord Nelson before the world, to have accepted the ostracism of the British court and been content to retire with her lord to a house in the country, without benefit of clergy. Despite this, however, it is agreeable to watch the story unfold, particularly as it reveals Miss Griffith at her best histrionically and sartorially. Rarely, if ever, has the heroine of a costume picture worn so many dresses, or such beautiful ones. The entire production is on a scale of magnificence hitherto unknown in Miss Griffith's pictures. While there is no dialogue, there is sound — heaps of it — and a little singing, presumably by Miss Griffith. The Perfect Crook. No matter what resolutions you may have made about seeing another underworld picture, "Alibi" will make you glad you weakened. A picture whose ingredients are essentially the same gunman, girl and policeman in the current deluge of crookies, yet is still able to draw a big hand on its opening night, is indeed worth seeing. The picture is well above the ordinary in its direction and construction, and foretells better things ahead for patrons of the audible screen. All good fans should now hope that the skill and subtle touches that lift "Alibi" out of the ranks of kindred opuses will be applied in other dramatic fields, giving the gunmen a badly needed rest. "Alibi" has several distinctive features. Some of the finer