Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Dec 1920)

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VALUABLE BOOKLET ON SONG MUTING SENLFaEiiffl REQUEST VRITE TO ME TWW As/Txo* •r^rTvVi H • ThI ttAvM SO Twrr iv0.rt COM* A£ CAKTV TMCATm BLD. NCW YOMII. MOTION PICTURE The Celluloid Critic {Continued from page 88) when the dramatist learns the truth, but he comes in time to reahze that he loves — and needs — his butterfly wife despite everything. Mr. Von Stroheim presents his story with a Continental observation of men and manners, a dexterous camera sense and the same directorial skil fulness that lifted "Blind Husbands" into the unusual. As yet, Mr. \'on Stroheim's characters — in the main — do not have the breath of life. Just one character of "The Devil's Passkey" really lives. It is the cocotte, Odero, realized with fine Parisian verve and piquancy by Mae Bush. Her Odero is as French as La Vie Parisicnne. Sam de Grasse and Una Trevelyn are adequate as the American husband and wife, Clyde Fillmore is the army officer who wavers humanly between the good and the bad, and Maud George is Mme. Malot. The Paris atmosphere is admirably attained and maintained. Rabelaisian in its humor is "Scratch My Back," (Goldwyn), written and adapted for the screen by Rupert Hughes. The hero is a rich young chap who always does what he wants to. Obeying that impulse, he leans over at the opera and scratches the decollete back of a voung woman who is too polite to do it herself. Forthwith his adventures begin, for the object of his unique attention not only does not resent it, but selects him to save her from the machinations of a blackmailer. Just to show his originality, Mr. Hughes has the hero enter and leave a bachelor. The story itself is not particularly humorous, but it is very shrewdly adapted to the screen and possesses delightful subtitles, captions which "kid" the action without hurting the story. The result is something new in film technique — a sort of after-dinner story told with dry celluloid humor. T. Roy Barnes, a former "nut" comedian in the varieties, stands out of "Scratch My Back" like a house afire. You'll hear more on the screen of this Barnes, or we miss our guess. William Faversham is making his return to the screen in "The Man Who Lost Himself," (Selznick). This story of a British nobleman and a penniless American who look exactly alike, suggests "The Masquerader." The Englishman is in the grip of creditors and blackmailers, and he commits suicide secretly, leaving the American in his place. The newcomer solves all the difficulties — except the earl's wife. Love enters here and — But why tell the denouement? "The Man \\'ho'Lost Himself" held our interest very well. Mr. Faversham does distinguished work, too distinguished, perhaps, to suggest a down-and-out .American suddenly thrust into an earl's shoes. He touched the role here and there with a deft comic hand, which leads us to speculate upon Mr. Faversham's film possibilities in high comedy. Hedda Hopper contributes a genuinely fine performance as the wife, a well bred, worldly and understanding woman. At last a heroine who possesses something aloft besides curls ! George D. Baker's direction is very workmanlike. "The Sea Wolf," (Paramount), as revived with Noah Beery in Hobart Bosworth's original role of Jack London's caveman of the North Pacific, struck us as being 'way above the average, li you are not familiar with London's virile and tragic tale of "Wolf" Larsen, seal-hunting schooner skipper, you should be. Here is an unusual novel of the primitive in man in combat with the mind. We want to congratulate Mr. Beery upon his performance as the Sea Wolf. A mighty good bit of work it is, carefully and skilfully shaded. Mabel Juliene Scott and Tom Forman are satisfactory as the two scions of the rich stranded aboard "Wolf's" hell-ship. Olive Thomas is more interesting in "The Flapper," (Selznick), Frances Marion's boarding-school opus, than in any vehicle we have )'et obser\'ed her. Miss Marion endeavors to hit a feminine "Seventeen." satirizing girlish adolescence as Booth Tarkington did with callow boyhood. The trouble here is that the picture is entirely too long for its story and, again, that the director mistakes burlesque for satire. The tale frequently becomes preposterous. The crook element, for instance, is dragged in by the ears and does not ring true. The plot? The kid romance of two young people in adjoining boarding and military schools. Rather weak. Will Rogers' latest. "Jes' Call Me Jim," (Goldwyn). is quite fearful. Here Rogers is made to fit a trite old melodrama, with the result that his human and humorous qualities are engulfed. Thru a conspiracy, an inventor is kept in a wretched asylum cell. How he is rescued and restored to health by Jim, (played by Rogers), forms the theme, such as it is. W'e like Irene Rich as the girl of the drama. The director, Clarence Badger, gives no credit for an audience's imagination. And, judging from the eternal flashbacks, he thinks they cannot remember, either. "The Silver Horde." (Goldwyn), based upon Rex Beach's romance of the salmon industry in Alaska, sounds a healthy outdoor note. We are quite sure it will interest you. "The Silver Horde" concerns the efforts of the salmon-canning trust to get possession of a certain valuable river property at any cost. But the plotters are foiled and. when the silver salmon horde sweep up the Kalvik River, the fighters win their battle. Myrtle Stedman stands out of "The Silver Horde" thru her splendid performance as Cherry Melotte, Rex Beach's fascinating heroine of the Northland. Betty • Blythe is effectively present, too. Frank Lloyd's direction is praiseworthy. .Anita Stewart did not at all interest us in "The Yellow Typhoon," (First National), based upon Harold MacGrath's romance of twin sisters, one brunette and fearfully good, the other blonde (Ninety-six)