Motion Picture (Aug 1922-Jan 1923)

Praise for Douglas Fairbanks, but opposition to his playing in Tarkington's "Monsieur Beaucaire." Dear Editor: I saw in the July number of your magazine that Douglas Fairbanks is preparing to picturize Booth Tarkington's "Monsieur Beaucaire." I realize, of course, that Mr. Tarkington must have consented to this. However, to relieve my own feelings, I am venturing to write this letter of protest. Douglas Fairbanks has always played in good, clean pictures. He has a likable personality. That is the chief fly in the ointment._ He does not seem capable of subordinating his own personality to the personality of the character he is portraying. He is always Douglas Fairbanks. It is all right when he is creating a character, when he is playing Tom Smith, or John Jones, or any other mere man. Douglas Fairbanks is, in all probability, much more than Tom Smith. We dont know anything about Tom Smith, so we are content Douglas Fairbanks calls himself Tom Smith in one of his pictures. Douglas Fairbanks was not D'Artagnan. He was Douglas Fairbanks dressed in picturesque clothes, swashbuckling aroimd, having a glorious time, and calling himself "D'Artagnan." But he was the same effervescent, bubbling, unsquelched Douglas Fairbanks that he has always been. Monsieur Beaucaire, I mean Monsieur Beaucaire as I understand and love him, is so wholly different from Douglas Fairbanks. To begin with, he was small and slender. Douglas Fairbanks is decidedly strapping. Monsieur Beaucaire was dignified, composed, and thoroly the gentleman. I do not say that Douglas Fairbanks is not a gentleman, he may be, but he certainly is not dignified. Monsieur Beaucaire was a whimsical, rather wistful, somewhat philosophic personage. Douglas Fairbanks never has done anything to malce me think he was whimsical or wistful or philosophic. He is too showy to be gentle, gallant, little Monsieur Beaucaire. Let him make good, clean pictures, let him be his own riotous self unreservedly, let him play the part of daredevil Toms, Dicks, and Harrys, but please, oh please, dont let him play the part of anybody whom anybody knows about ! It is so disheartening to see a calm, reservc<l, rather austere D'Artagnan made into a swaggering, ogling soldier of the class that Mr. Kipling wrote about in his Barrack Room Ballads. I shudder to think what Monsieur Beaucaire will (T\ become. PCA [age Douglas Fairbanks is not the only star who recreates characters. They all do it — particularly the stars of longer standing. I realize that what I have said has been said repeatedly, and said much more forcibly, but the constant drippings of water may wear away the largest stone. Yours truly, A. L. L. Monsieur Beaucaire, as one reader understands him, was whimsical, wistful and philosophic. He was dignified and composed. And "A. L. L." goes on to say that Douglas Fairbanks is his own riotous selfstrapping — a maker of fine, clean pictures — yet not the man to play Monsieur Beaucaire Elinor Glyn's prestige is questioned. Dear Editor : Will someone kindly tell me zmhy is Eleanor Glyn? I've been wondering for a long, long time. Perhaps I am lacking in discernment and appreciation, but her shrewd British countenance lavishly displayed by press and screen; her smug British comments on American customs and manners ; her complacent assumption that she is an undisputable authority on every subject broached; her consistent disparagement of a public which has received her with courtesy and good faith; above all, her driveling sex twaddle, all bore me inexpressibly. Armed with the mighty reputation of "Three Weeks," she has serenely invaded our territory, our press, our pictures, always cleverly contriving to share the limelight with awestricken lesser (?) celebrities and get widely advertised. In return for her royal reception, she has promised great things ; but what has she actually done except caustically criticize our generous hospitality? Is it indicative of good breeding publicly to censure one's host? Yet, Mrs. Glyn has set herself forth as authority on social etiquette. Why do we accept it from her? To be sure, she claims she is lending her mighty talents to advance our screen art, elevate our literature, uplift our morals, cultivate (if that is possible) our undeveloped emotions, introduce into our crude drama new and decidedly superior elements. If so, she must be progressing slowly out of consideration for our feeble intellects ; for so far, she has dismally failed to "deliver the goods." Monday last I witnessed second screening of "Beyond the Rocks," which Mrs. Glyn wrote especially for Gloria Swanson and Rodolph Valentino — a picture which has received widespread publicity and much laudatory criticism. Inasmuch as all this advertising was written around the key fact that here, at last, Mrs. Glyn had justified the publi'".'s interest and produced a thoroly (Contimied on page 116)