Film Spectator (1927-1928)

THE FILM SPECTATOR Page Six in the action of the guests in spurning him. This action is presented entirely in close-ups, exactly the wrong way to present it. It is the mass treatment of Menjou, not the individual treatment, that makes him a pathetic figure; it is the action of a woman turning her back on him, not her facial expression when doing it, that lends strength to the scene. Menjou’s reaction is shown in close-ups also. They are entirely unnecessary, for we know him by that time, and are aware what mental suffering must be his, and it would be much stronger to have left to our imaginations the working of his mind. The scene in its entirety should be presented in a long shot showing the guests ignoring him; and the failure to pick him out in close-ups would have added a further note of pathos to it by bringing out the idea that even the camera had deserted him. The actions of the guests showed that they considered that he had no place in such a gathering, and the camera should have been used to heighten such an impression. It is a fine point, perhaps, but the cinematic art has advanced roughshod as far as it can, and in its future strides it must pay more attention to its footgear than it has been doing. It is a pity that such a splendid picture as this one must resort to the close-up evil in a place where it can do so much harm. * ♦ * Fine Performances and Fine Direction A GENTLEMAN of Paris is Paramount’s success with a story out of which Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer made such a woeful failure. Metro produced it as A Certain Young Man, basing it on Bellamy the Magnificent, but made such a bad picture out of it that it was not released. Paramount bought it for seventy-five thousand dollars, the value it attached to one situation, that of the master being detected in having an affair with his valet’s wife. A Gentleman of Paris will be so successful that it will look as if the price were not exorbitant, but it will be the fine acting and the fine direction that will make it a success, not the strength of the situation that cost so much money. I’ll confess that I went with some trepidation to view the picture, for I had a feeling that it was juggling with my reputation. I had seen Nicholas Soussanin do small parts in two pictures, and although that was the sole extent of my acquaintance with him, I recorded in The Spectator my opinion that he was a sterling actor. I received later a letter from D’Arrast stating that on the strength of my estimate of Soussanin he was to have a big part in the Menjou picture. I am quite grateful to the actor. Next to Menjou’s acting and the direction, his performance is the big feature of the production. He is one of the little group of splendid artists who have come to us from Russia. This picture should bring him well to the front. In A Gentleman of Paris we have Lawrence Grant, the king in Service for Ladies. Here is another sterling actor, a finished artist who can add strength to the strongest cast. Bill Davidson comes to the bat in this picture as a sophisticated man of the world who can wear good clothes and conduct himself as if they were made for him. He is easy and natural, and adds considerably to the wealth of good acting that characterizes the production. Shirley O’Hara is the sweetheart. She is new to me, but I will watch her hereafter, as 1 believe she has something that will get her somewhere. Her presence in the picture was another exhibition of wise casting. She is a sweet. September 3, 1927 unsophisticated youngster, in strong contrast to the sophisticated types with which Menjou had his affairs. The obvious innocence of Shirley gives point to Menjou’s anxiety that she should be kept in ignorance of his gay ways. Ivy Harris and Arlette Marchal have small parts and enact them capably. The titles are well written and except for three or four lapses, are examples of how perfect punctuation should be presented on the screen. The person who punctuated them should perform a like service for all Paramount titles, and if he has any spare time Paramount might lend him to Universal. The story of A Gentleman of Paris is not noted for its progression from one exciting situation to another. It takes two or three days out of the life of a gay blade and shows us what happens to him. The love story is ready-made, the opening shot being an insert of a telegram which tells us that Adolphe already is engaged. The story leaves him in the same condition, and we are spared a wedding. Nor is there any love-making. It opens with about the most delicious comedy touch that I ever saw on the screen, but I won’t tell you what it is. Paramount has made so many pictures lately so poor in quality that they will not be played in the big downtown houses. Undoubtedly A Gentleman of Paris will take the place of one of the flops and it should not be long before you can see this bit of comedy for yourself. You can put down this picture as one you must see. * * * Bushman Scores in “The Thirteenth Juror” Areally powerful performance by Francis X. Bushman is the outstanding feature of The Thirteenth Juror, a screen version of Counsel for the Defense, Henry Irving Dodge’s well known play. It is a Universal picture, directed by Edward Laemmle. Charles A. Logue made the adaptation, 'WTote the continuity, and supervised the storj' during production. Logue retained in his screen version all the big dramatic punches of the play, weaving them together in a businesslike way that makes the story of the picture an engrossing one. Edward Laemmle can direct, even if he does happen to be Uncle Carl’s nephew. He has a fine sense of drama, and a sincerity which he imparts to his cast with the result that his pictures never suffer from a poor quality of acting. He does things with which I do not agree, but he does them deliberately and for a reason that satisfies him of their wisdom. In this picture he brings Bushman, a successful lawyer; Lloyd Whitlock, the district attorney, and Fred Kelsey, a detective, together in Bushman’s library. During the entire scene the men wear their hats. No doubt the theory back of it is that owing to the tensity of the scene the men would forget to remove their hats. Men do not either remember or forget to uncover when they should. They do it instinctively. This whole library sequence is the weakest part of the picture technically, and it should have been one of the biggest moments. It is shown in close-ups which take all the life out of it. There is no drama in a man’s head occupying the screen alone while he is talking dramatically to a group of people. Such editing as we have in this sequence defies all the rules of picture sense. We can blame the director for robbing the scenes of some of their reality by having the characters retain their hats, but the major fault belongs to whoever is responsible for the editing. But the thing that matters most is that The Thirteenth Juror