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of himself. Even when, in his proper character, its face or person is most active, it is a false and hoaxing jollity or sorrow, its real feelings are stiU masked and shy. Therefore, vrhen he presents a burlesque, the Don in Carmen or the tragic painter in this film, and he merely exaggerates and mocks the expected behaviour of the conventional type portrayed, without retaining beneath it any special feelings at all, we are instantly aware of the emptiness. His burlesque is more a Dumb Crambo than a live creation. Conklin and Purviance on the cast list only appear for scarce seconds, others play the chief supporting parts.
5. Poi^YCHROMiDE COI.OUR : The writer abhors colour. He is an apostle of the black and white league. (He is even an apostle of the silence league and levitates his gorge at Movietone, Phono films, etc.) Besides there is no logical reason why colour, if admitted should be natural. But let us be charitable, with a purely investigatory and inquisitive charity, and have a look at what 'natural' colour can do. Obviously results vary very much indeed with varying circumstances. In the bad weather at Giggleswick scarcely any colour is seen at all. But in several places we are pleasurably astonished. One of Betty Faire's hats, the silver fish, the white and red Japanese Goldfish, and one amazing shot of shadows and lights on ice with a pink skater give a hint of a quality that might convert us if it could be reached more often than very rarely. Evening light is interesting and the street lamps via supersensitive stock make us feel privileged to be present at the beginning of an important adventure. The eclipse of course is a subject, like a war film, that carries an impressiveness of its own irrespective of the quality of its treatment. But it must be recognised that here the colour is an unqualified success, and enhances and heightens the drama of the subject.
6. Toi,STOY : A veteran of eighty, surrounded by his family, acclaimed by his people, walking through the snow at 5 a. m., leaping lively onto horseback. What would we not give to see thus Tolstoy plain in youth, in middle age ? We know in theory that future generations may hear a great man speak from the disc, may see his form move on the film, but when before have we had so vigorous an object lesson, presented before our eyes a record of a man so many of us were too young to apprehend ?
7. Taras Bui,ba : This belongs definitely to the class of illustration films. Instead of being utterly changed, adapted, transmogrified into its new form, as Shakespeare from Holinshead, or von Stroheim from Lehar, there is a
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