Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Aug 1919)

MOTION PICTURE CLASSIC age-old eyes” that is unforgettable. And — ■when she hides herself in the closet to escape her father’s final wrath — she presents a picture of passionate fear realized so realistically that it tears at the heart like a hungry wolf. Richard Barthelmess is admirable as the Yellow Man — indeed, superb in moments. Here is the dreamer of the East almost broken before the realities of life, painted with strokes of splendid subtlety and restraint. And Donald Crisp as the brute. Battling Burrows! Smug, brutally degenerate, vainglorious, Crisp makes Battling a hated figure, relentless in its power. For the moment we have neglected to speak of theT technical advances of “Broken Blossoms.” Mr. Griffith is making more extended use of the idealistic close-up of vague out-offocus photography. Here, it seems, is just what the close-up needed to rob it of its material beaded cvelash and painted lip revelations. Mr. Griffith resorts to it with tremendous effect in handling Miss Gish’s scenes where Battling breaks down the closet door to reach her. Mr. Griffith is using living colors — palpitating blues, pale bronzes, hot golds and a vivid rose — to aid the dramatic moods of his photoplay. And how singularly effective it is ! Who knows but what mood colors may ultimately fill the void left by the human voice? We might go on endlessly talking of “Broken Blossoms.” It is, for instance, the initial production of the screen’s first repertoire season in New York and other cities. It is the screen’s first tragedy. We have had stories with “unhappy endings,” but “Broken Blossoms,” with its inevitable tale of passions, clashing prejudices and brutal forces, marches with the steady, inexorable tread of a Greek tragedy. \Vhat a step it is to turn to the other photoplays of the month ! Mary Pickford has probably contributed nothing to the screen which will be more popular than her adaptation of Jean Webster’s story, “Daddy Long Legs,” (First National), of the quaint orphanage foundling who becomes the ward and finally the bride of a wealthy chap. Ruth Chatterton played it upon the stage in an entirely different key, sounding the pathos of the character. Miss Pickford makes Judy Abbott a figure of comedy — and boisterous comedy at that. Judy even innocently collides with a hard cider jag. Mahlon IJamilton makes a distinguished Daddy Long Legs, and Micky Neilan, who directed the picture, himself plays the chubby Jimmie McBride. From a technical viewpoint. “Daddy Long Legs” is of too choppy continuity development. But Miss Pickford has jammed in the laughs at any cost. Norma Talmadge’s latest, “The New Moon,” (Select), based upon a scenario by H. H. \’an Loan, is trite and involved melodrama without humanness. Mr. Van Loan has taken the reported decree by which all women in certain parts of Russia became the property of the state — a report that is now pretty thoroly discredited — and woven it into an old-fashioned “meller” of very virtuous heroes and very sinning villains plus plenty of whiskers. Mr. Van Loan’s idea of Russia is as chaotic as Russia itself. If nothing else, “The New Moon” reveals that Stuart Holmes, the famous he-vamp, is losing his girlish figure. Avaunt, Stuart 1 Delicious is Harry Carr’s “I’ll Get You Yet.” (Paramount), in which the steadily developing Dorothy Gish gave us a host of laughs. Here is the humorous tale of a millionaire’s daughter who has to hide her wealth in order to wed a poor reporter. Lawyers keep appearing with checks to be signed and hubby’s suspicions are more than aroused. “I'll Get You Yet” is full of original twists, and Miss Gish is given excellent aid by the versatile Richard Barthelmess, Ralph Graves exhibits promise in this comedy, too. Mr. Carr, let us note, is a frequent Ci,.\ssic contributor. Which may or may uot account for the brilliance of this little siherscreen skit. The Celluloid Critic (Continued from page 47) We haven’t the heart to discuss Mr, Griffith’s “True Heart Susie,” (Paramount), immediately after his “Broken Blossoms.” For they are a thousand miles apart. “True Heart Susie” is of the Hoosier caliber of “A Romance of Happy Valley.” It revolves around a young minister who fails to see the lovelight in simple Susie’s eyes, marries a fickle little milliner, discovers her semi-infidelity after her sudden death, and who turns finally to Susie, who has waited thru it all. To us “True Heart Susie” hasn’t one-tenth of the real country and small-town atmosphere of “The Turn in the Road.” Lillian Gish is quaint as Susie, but darned if we can like her weird country attire. We’ve lived in the country but never glimpsed anything as exaggerated as Susie’s clothes in these mailorder days. Clarine Seymoure again reveals surprising promise as the cutie milliner who loves jazz better than her fireside. And,, considering the W'illie Jenkins of Bobby Harron, we cant entirely blame her. Probably we liked Charlie Ray’s “The Busher,” (Paramount), better than anything else of the month. This may be because we suffer severely from baseballitis, for, in this story by Earle Snell, Mr. Ray plays a small-town pitcher who is graduated to the big leagues. Ben tiarding, alias Mr. Ray, loses his head over his sudden fame and is finally released by the irate Pink Sox manager. He blows back to Brownsville on a freight and finally begins pitching again for the Brownsville Stars. There the Pink Sox’s scout, observing his cured case of enlarged cranium, re-signs him for the National League. But this time Ben takes his sweetheart with him to the big city. Mr. Ray gives a wealth of shading to the regenerated twirler, and Otto Hoffman makes the small role of Deacon Nasby stand out. “The Busher” is nearly a home run. Marguerite Clark is apparently returning to her own. Her latest, “Come Out of the Kitchen,” (Paramount), has both charm and humor. The Alice Duer Miller-A. E. Thomas play, originally done, as was “Daddy Long Legs.” by Ruth Chatterton. deals with the financially embarrassed Dangerfield family. They rent their ancestral Southern home to a young Northerner, Burton Crane, and themselves take the posts of servitors without revealing their identity. Crane falls in love with his cook, otherwise Claudia Dangerfield, and, of course, things turn out happily. Craufurd Kent makes the most of the small role of a friend, and Miss Clark is delightful as Claudia. “Leave It to Susan,” a Madge Kennedy-Goldwyn comedy, lacks the usual concrete Goldwyn interiors. For this we probably have the scenario to thank, since Miss Kennedy plays a rich young woman who steps off a cross-country train in the desert in pursuit of her pet dog and gets involved with bandits and everything. She loses her heart to one of the highbinders who turns out to be a detective employed by her own father. Wallace MacDonald does the best work of his career as the pseudo-bandit, and Miss Kennedy’s cute personality lifts the story after its slow start. Ethel (Tlayton is suffering from poor scenarios at Famous almost as much as she did at World. “The Woman Next Door” is a hectic thing, of a young wife of a brutal, unfaithful man of the world. The woman engages the house next door, reached by a secret passage, w'here she becomes known as Vicky Van, and presides over a little pleasureloving circle. Then hubby is killed and the double life revealed, thereby making things look black for Vicky. But the denouement reveals another as the murderer-ee. Doug Fairbanks’ “The Knickerbocker Buckaroo,” (Artcraft), did not stir us perceptibly. It seemed long, galloping in a rut over wellworn roads. (Tast off by his club as a selfish annoyance. Teddy Drake goes West to prove himself. He engages in a fight with a crooked sheriff to save a pretty Spanish'girl, generally upsets the whole Southwest, and — gets both the sheriff and the girl. There are all the usual Fairbanks stunts. Just how Teddy Drake rides all over the desert country, disclosing amazing knowledge of geography for a tenderfoot, isn’t revealed. “The Knickerbocker Buckaroo” has too little of the personal Fairbanks element in it and too much riding. “Castles in the Air,” (Metro), based on a Kate Jordan story, provides May Alliiion with some interesting moments. Miss Allison has the role of an usher in a New York theater who finally weds the manager, altho not until her dreams of romance have caused her to think, she has lost her heart to a British lord. There is more of drama and less of comedy than we care to see about Miss Allison, who is an infinitely promising comedienne, but, on the vvhole, she makes it interesting. Ben Wilson is commendable as the manager. The direction fluctuates. The _ much-advertised “The Auction of Souls,” based upon what are said to have been the actual experiences of an Armenian girl, Aurora Mardiganian, at the hands of the Turks, bored us so thoroly that we did not wait for the end. This production was made for a laudable purpose, we believe, (to enlist America’s aid for the A.rmenians), but the cheap sensationalism of its advertising panders to the worst in humanity. We are heartily sick of the .screen’s exploitation of atrocities under any pise. And atrocities are as thick as cooties in “The Auction of Souls.” Miss Mardiganian isn’t camera interesting. Irving Cummings and Anna Q. Nilsson appear in her support. The production was staged in California by Oscar Apfel, who, at least now and then, catches an unusual atmospheric effect. George Walsh has a not-as-bad-as-usual story */* Help! Police!” (Fox), a rambling farce built about a harum-scarum young millionaire who runs down a gang of crooks and ets his usual reward— the cutie ingenue who as believed in him all along, as cutie ingenues always do. If you dont.question the absurdity of your entertainment, "Help! Help! Police!” will not unduly annoy you. Which leads us to wonder what George could do if he ever had a good story and a passable director. We awaited Olive Thomas’ appearance in the Hattons’ stage farce, “Upstairs and Down,’ ( Selznick) . with considerable anticipation. But alas ! the thing has lost en route to the screen. The director, Charles Giblyn, keeps the players too far from the camera, for one thing. Moreover, Mr. Giblyn didn’t seem to be able to get his action to hold the interest anywhere, The subtitles, remnants of the Hattons’ lively dialog, alone carry the comedy. Upstairs and Down” is a story of the Long Island idle rich and their servants below stairs, of the polo pony folk and their servitors. ^It preaches the philosophy that you must “treat ’em rough” to win a girl above stairs but that .the same thing is deadly below'. Thru it moves the (apparently) guileless baby varnp, Alice Chesterton, of course, played by Miss Thomas. Her performance lacks verve, altho she is piquant in her bathing-suit moments. Robert Ellis reveals some possibilities as the hero, and Rosemary Theby and Kathleen Kirkham are both appealing in their roles. But “Upstairs and Down” lacks an elevator — of piquancy. Metro announces that it has renewed its contract with Alla Nazimova for two more years. Max Marcin, the playwright, is now in charge of the Goldwyn scenario department. The cornerstone of the new home of the Fox Film Corporation, between 5Sth and S6th Streets, on Tenth Avenue, New York, was laid with special ceremonies on Friday, June 6. Ruth Roland is now her own producer. Ruth Roland Serials, Inc., has just been organized, distribution to be made thru Pathe. Her next serial will be her own work, written in collaboration with Gilson Willets. (Sixtn)