Motion Picture Magazine (Mar-Jul 1918)

(p»g£ut { Oh, I made a mistake by calling liim an actor, because when one is a real actor you are never conscious that he is acting. Why does not Beverly Bayne act with a truly fine actor? Or it would even be ■much better for her career if she would be the sole star in her pictures. Wallace Reid, for instance, is in dire need of a good leading-woman. Kathlyn Williams and Myrtle Stedman simply give us the indigestion. Wallace Reid will be as unpopular as Francis Bushman if he does not obtain a better leadingwoman. He is one of the handsomest actors on the screen and also has fine acting ability. Harold Lockwood is also very much admired and is a prime favorite among both sexes. So let's take off our hats to Harry. Oh, when will sweet May Allison return to play with Harold Lockwood? He has manj' good-looking leading-ladies, yet we ivould like to see May Allison opposite him again. Harold Lockwood is very, very handsome and his pictures are enjoyable. Charlie Chaplin is poor and looks more like the chief mourner in a funeral than a comedian. People are tired of this silly comedy and want something really funny. The five-year-olds may enjoy it, but we do not think intelligent people possibly could. Charlie is bad enough, but excuse me from Lonesome Luke and Billie West. Billie tries to imitate Charlie Chaplin, but if he wants to imitate some one, why does he not imitate a real comedian like Max Linder? Why does not Charlie go to France and stop bullets and let us see Max occasionally? Another imitator is Vivian Martin. Marguerite Clark is too sweet for words, but we cannot bear to see Vivian Martin imitate her as she did hi "The Wax Model." That w7as one of Vivian Martin's best pictures, yet you cannot help being impressed by the way she acted like our beloved Marguerite Clark. Vivian Martin is very sweet, except wdien she frowns, but it seems that the only other emotion she can express, besides smiling, is frowning Why that frown, Vivian? I know we all have occasion to frown sometimes, yet you carry it to the extreme and it makes you look hideous. Bessie Love is a wonderful little actress because she does not act. She seems to live the part. Viola Dana is very, very beautiful and is an actress who deserves much praise and plays emotional parts with skill. The Gish sisters are both very charming. They are ultra-feminine. Lillian's face is as pure and beautiful as a lily. She reminds one of an angel. Dorothy is so cute. Fannie Ward will do but for that fluffy nest that is supposed to represent hair. Really it makes one want to tear it down and comb it. She looks and acts like sweet sixteen. Earle Williams is another one of those has-beens. You cannot expect the silent drama to progress with such old-timers. Perhaps they w7ould do if they were young, yet there are some entirely out of question. Mary Pickford is so beautiful and unaffected. Her pictures are enjoyed by young and old alike. If there were more Anita Stewarts and less Francis X. Bushmans, the Motion Pictures would be Paradise. Anita is very young and beautiful, and a very talented actress. We consider Mae Marsh and Mae Murray7 two fine actresses. The wonderful portrayals of Pauline Frederick and Olga Petrova prove them to be two of the best emotional actresses of the screen. As for the vampires (those wicked women of the screen), none of them can (f\ hold a candle to Theda Bara. Of course C^ 126 there are other vampires who are splendid in their roles, such as Virginia Pearson, Louise Glaum and Valeska Suratt. William S. Hart, that wonderful portrayer of the deepest emotions, has not the polish and gentlemanly ways of Francis X. Bushman, but he shows he is a gentleman in every sense of the word. Douglas Fairbanks' wonderful comedy and hero portrayals have found their way in the silent drama. He laughs and jumps thru a picture and makes one glad she came to see him instead of going across the street to see the "noble" Francis grin and pose thru a picture. But never mind, Francis, you may be a very good old sport after all. Any one who has seen "The Birth of a Nation" can fully appreciate Henry Walthall's wonderful display of emotions. Both of us nuts in our teens are just wild about the Motion Picture Magazine, and declare it the best yet. I know" every reader is ready to murder ns, so we close and get back into our bomb-proofs. Eleanor Cousins, of New London, Conn., sends in a little praise that will prove to the players that their kindnesses are appreciated: I was so sorry not to see the "Letters to the Editor" department in your recent issue. I have never written before, but always take an interest in the letters. May I hope you will continue it? Perhaps you would' like to know of my collection of the "make-believeland people." I wonder how these kind people ever stand the constant demand for their "likeness." I am just a little school-girl, but they have in almost every case answered my request. Some of the popular players who have helped make my collection possible are : Theodore Roberts, Peggy Hyland, Marguerite Clark, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, Billie Burke, Pauline Frederick, Harold Lockwood, May7 Allison, Ann Pennington, Mary Miles Minter, Warner Oland, Dustin Farnum, Winifred Kingston, William S. Hart, Vivian Martin, Blanche Sweet, Pearl White, Louise Huff, Theda Bara, Mollie King, Alice Joyce, Helen Jerome Eddy, Mae Murray and June Elvidge. You caii imagine the great pride I take in my collection, and if some have not responded, it is easy to forgive them and to hope that some time they will find my request in some hidden corner. I do hope these kind people will never regret their acts, and I wish to thank them one and all, if they ever should read this, for the happiness the)' have made possible. My favorite of favorites is Marguerite Clark, for her grace, quaintness, youthfulness and vivacity. From "J M," Perry, N. Y., comes this rather cruel "as others see you" : I went to see Harold Lockwood the other night in "Paradise Garden." The play itself was all right, but one of the actresses, the girl who played the part of Marcia, the vampire, was one of the homeliest girls I have ever seen. I do not see how Harold Lockwood could make love to a face like that, or Lester Cuneo also; why, her teeth would remind any one of a bull-dog, and the way her hair was combed was like an Indian's. If they want a vampire to attract a man, why dont they put at least an attractive one on ? Why, no man on this earth would fall for any thing like that, much less a man raised like Harold Lockwood was supposed to lie, never seeing a woman for twenty (20) j'ears. Every woman knows a man always looks for a pretty face first. The only attraction I could see, were her shoulders, when her dress fell down. I heard several people say who saw the picture, she was a perfect fright, the worst they had ever seen on the screen, and also a picture they had on the wall in one of the scenes was simply awful. I think the director must have been star-gazing, else he was blind. Vera Sissou was fine as the leadinglady, and any man could fall in love with her — she was both sweet and attractive. GREETINGS FROM OUR WARTIME POKT The "Kipling of the Movies" Writes Us Vividly from "Over There" Headquarters A. E. F, France. Dear Editor : Well, the "great adventure" is under way. and the best cameraman could "pan" all around this particular interior and find blamed little to prove it. If he had chanced to get a close-up, just a moment since, of yours truly picking up a Motion Picture dated February7, 1917, he might, with good focusing, have gotten a little something on which to hang a plot. I think I registered regret and surprise and wistfulness — reg'lar Maemarsh variety — and deep thought, all in about fifty feet of celluloid. I dont know how it happened to be lying around up here. Some kindly soul doubtless shipped it to the boys 'way last summer. But it awoke a lot of memories that had been dulled by the swift succession of events which have transplanted yours truly from a fairly comfortable job in Chicago to France, where I am a sort of office-boy to the Signal Corps. So here I am in France, doing my bit, and incidentally' after the thrills and heart-throbs that will come with the closing chapters of the greatest tragedy of history. If I thought that the world had done me justice, or I it, I think I would be quite ready to take my chances with the shells right at the front. Certainly, as a private here, I enjoy no better quarters nor food than are provided for the merest doughboy7 of the dugouts, and the only difference would be that, with more of the cold to face, more of the heartache of the thing to see, I'd only be a little more willing to try the ultimate great adventure and leave this problematic life behind. But I want to stay and build something. in the days when humanity7 is done with wrecking. I want to come back and take dinner with people who right the wrongs that other people do, simply thru telling the truth with their pens. I want to smoke a pipe or two with the folks who dare call politicians liars and a lot of our gilded ideals nothing but dry bones besmeared with the blood of the golden calf. So here I am at headquarters, damning the Germans and their kaiser every day I live, and hoping this next year will find its fruition in a peace wherein all the nations involved will be represented sanely. There are lots of things a fellow could pick out to write a one-reel comedy about, and there are lots of flashes in the railroad stations about which a man might write real drama. In a station in Paris I have seen the farewells of soldiers and their women, as the inevitable parting ended the expired leave. I have seen in a little country depot the embrace of a father and his twenty-year-old son, as the boy trudged away with leaden feet to the dingy train soon to pant its