Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Aug 1919)

The Celluloid Critic WITH tlie photodramatic world wliirling in a maelstrom of reported amalgamations and rumored changesunusual even to fllmdom with all its sudden shifts— one can hardly expect much of the screen drama. Unrest is good for the soul, however. Here and there are signs of new methods, new ideas, new ideals. The photoplay is on the verge of breaking the fetters of a machine-featurea-week and raising itself to a new level. The month itself was dull, with but few high lights. Again the leadership goes to Cecil de Mille, who followed his “The Squaw Man” with his odd study in matrimonj' “Dont Change Your Husband.” Based on an original story by Jeanie Macpherson, “Dont Change Your Husband,” (Artcraft). has not only the merit of being written for the screen, but of coming a little closer to life than the average sugar-coated photoplay. V\ e do not agree with Miss Macpherson’s philosophy, but we admire her effort to get out of the silverscreen rut in approaching the realities of things as they are. Miss Macpherson starts seven years after the conventional movie fade-out has united Leila Porter and her business-absorbed hubby, James Denton Porter. Lazy habits around the house, a penchant for onions and a general letting up of the finer things of life, causes Leila to turn to the dashing Schuyler Van Sutphen. So she divorces James and marries Van only to discover that one husband is quite like another. Van becomes, in his way, another James. Meanwhile, Porter has seen his folly and has developed into an athletic Beau Brummel. So Leila divorces Van and re-marries James. And the final scene shows Porter, again at his old fireside, lapsing into slumber behind his evening newspaper. The moral, according to Miss Macpherson, is that all husbands are alike and a wife might aS well make the most of the one she possesses. De Mille handles “Dont Change Your Husband” with fine taste and dramatic discretion. Just now there’s no director as satisfying as the De Mille, whose scenes invariably are everything they should be. “Dont Change Your Husband” is marked not only by distinguished direction, but by fine acting. Gloria Swanson, who played the much wedded wife, is a distinct discovery. Prettiness, sympathy and repression are here. We know of no one who could play the wife so admirably. And the new Elliott Dexter is James Denton Porter. He follows his superb Squaw Man with a finely sympathetic performance of the negligent husband. Lew Cody is effective as Van Sutphen, but Julia Faye, to our way of thinking, overdoes the ornate little vampire, “Toodlee” Thomas. David Wark Griffith’s “A Romance of Happy Valley,” (Artcraft), starts with the charm of an idyll and lapses into the most inane melodramatic clap-trap. Here is the .soul struggle of a little country boy who finally tears himself away from his little sweetheart and his parents to find himself in the city. Finally he returns, his pockets bulging with money. His father, now penniless and facing eviction, does not recognize him when he comes to the old homestead to stay. That night the old man tries to kill the stranger in order to get his money, but chance prevents the tragedy. It seems that the village bank has been robbed and the posse has pursued the cracksman to the homestead. The boy. attracted by the noise, goes out to investigate just as the wounded bank robber crawls into his room. So the old man chokes the thief to death instead of his son. Consequently, everything ends happily, except for the burglar. “A Romance of Happy Valley” is Griffith briefly at his best and extendedly at his worst. He seems unable to get out of the slough of the melodramatic punch and the chase. The early portion of the picture, despite exaggeration of rural characters, has many fine moments, such as the little love scene in the corn field between the boy and his sweetheart. But, in the main, “A Romance of Happy Valley” is pretty inferior stuff. Lillian Gish plays the country sweetheart, Griffith continuing in his efforts to make the most idyllistic girl on the silverscreen into an eccentric comedienne. Robert Harron varies as the country boy and George Faw'cett completely overdoes the old father. Fawcett is guilty of celluloid ranting in the moments w'hen he fights w'ith his conscience before attempting to kill a stranger within his gates. Jack Barrymore’s “Here Comes the Bride,” (Paramount), is good fun in the main. Adapted from the stage farce of Max Marcin and Roy Atwell, the piece lends itself quite effectively to the screen and to Barrymore’s methods as a farceur. The comedy is built around an impecunious young lawyer who, in order to earn $10,000. marries an unknown w'oman. At that moment his sweetheart, the daughter of a wealthy man, decides to elope with him. All sorts of comic complications result. Barrymore plays the penniless lawyer in an entirely different spirit than it was originally done on the stage. He is, however, highly amusing. Little Faire Binney, who was in Maurice Tourneur’s “Woman,” is pleasant enough as the sweetheart. “The Silver King,” (Artcraft), which marked William Faversham’s return to the screen, is a creaky screen adaptation of a creaky stage melodrama by Henry Arthur Jones. This is the story of an Englishman who believes he has committed a murder while in his cups, who comes to America and strikes it rich in the West and then goes back to vindication and his wife, who has loved him thru it all. Mr. Faversham films very well, but is fearfully stagy. You know the sort? Continued glances upward as if one expects rain. All this, of course, to indicate a belief in an all-seeing providence to guide one thru seven reels. Much more effective, to our way of considering things, is Barbara Castleton’s sympathetic playing of the wife. This is Miss Castleton’s best screen work thus far. “Go West, Young Man,” (Goldwyn), w'hich marks an early step in Tom Moore’s starring career, is a Doug Fairbanks vehicle minus the athletics. Moore plays a millionaire’s son who goes West as a tenderfoot and suddenly develops into a man with strength enough to tame a wild western town. He saves an old miner from losing his mine and marries the daughter. Looking back over a period of some two weeks at “Go West, Young Man,” the whole thing seems rather vague, except a remembrance of Moore as the down-and •1 (Forty-four)' Madge Kennedy and John Bowers in Goldwyn’s “Day Dreams” Griffith makes another effort to make a comedienne out of Lillian Gish in “A Romance of Happy Valley”