Moving Picture World (Jan-Mar 1914)

io68 THE MOVING PICTURE WORLD "The Squaw Man" A Six-Reel Lasky Feature Adapted from Edwin Milton Royle's Play of the Same Title. Reviewed by Louis Reeves Harrison. ONE of the best visualizations of a stage play ever shown on the screen, "The Squaw Man," was a source of surprise and delight to me, and to the able critic at my side during the private exhibition, from beginning to end. Credit must, however, be given almost entirely to the direction and interpretation, the direction in this case embracing both form and treatment of an almost flawless production. To the lucid arrangement and delicate appreciation of dramatic values, to unwavering logic and consistency, to the pains taken in those tiny details which make action realistic, to the pervading sense of beauty, and to highly intelligent interpretation, quickening interest in the outcome, must be ascribed the charm this feature is bound to exert. I have not seen Oscar Apfel's name made prominent in connection with this winner, but I recognize his handiwork without difficulty. Cecil DeMille, I am told, put his heart and soul into making "The Squaw Man" an unqualified success, but his unbounded enthusiasm could only act as a support to the unhampered skill and decided native ability of the active director. First honors must go to the gentleman whose discriminating judgment cleared the path of this notable production of a thousand thorny errors. Dustin Farnum's unobtrusive and masterly characterization ranks ne.xt in value — he was largely responsible for the "surprise and delight" already mentioned — for he has certainly grasped the essential principles of screen interpretation. His performance is so manly, so apparently devoid of stale artifice, that I could only regret that he was not representing a typical American. The general theme, that of frenzied self-sacrifice on the part of a blameless man for the sake of a villain who happens to be a member of the same family, "for the family honor," whereby he blasts his own career, has been very popular with lady novelists since Ouida used it, and variations of it have been seen on both stage and screen until it has become almost as familiar as "Mary had a little " but it is time that it should be shelved, along with a lot of overdone expedients. Nothing in the photodrama is less conducive to progress in the new art than this old billposter theme. But it is all the more creditable to the producers that they have presented with exquisite charm what is no longer considered to be within the bounds of common sense. The truth is that they have depended upon a rattling good story of adventure, running with unbroken unity, sustained by a character of magnetic personality, through perils at sea and on shore. To begin at the beginning, Jim Wyngate, with whom we are better acquainted as Dustin Farnum, agrees to be the scapegoat for his relative, the Earl of Kerhill, who has embezzled the funds of Wyngate's regiment, and, as soon as Jim is disentangled from a lot of other officers that our affections may be fastened upon him, he leaves England in a trading schooner, and the real fun begins. He has been followed by a detective. Every small boy in the audience and a large portion of the big ones will begin to sit up and take notice when Jim gets busy with that detective. Jim is every inch an athlete, and he does not mince matters as they do in stage struggles. He succeeds in making a fool of the spy at the end of a game fight and soon after performs greater feats, when the ship catches fire. The fire scenes aboard ship are made plausible by using an actual vessel, sailing in the open, and there is a delightful fidelity to legitimate requirements not ordinarily seen in the escape of crew and passengers in the boats. Jim is picked up by an American vessel, landed in New York, and gradually drifts from the lurid White Way to ranch life in the far west, accompanied by "Big Bill," whom he has saved from the deft "touch" of a tango artiste. They arrive at a railroad station that is a veritable gem of its kind — we look through the combination bar and station, where cowboys assemble at train time, to the track on which actual trains are passing. Some of the high scenes occur in this room, and the view of cars running without gives them an unusual atmosphere of realism. Jim gets into diflSculties there with Cash Hawkins, and the latter is shot dead in the station by an Indian girl, a veritable one, and a remarkably fine actress, when he attempts to murder Jim in cold blood. It is not altogether a pleasing spectacle to see white women impersonating Indian squaws, and they are seldom, if ever, successful at it ; on the other hand, Indian girls who can awaken and hold sympathy for their roles are few and far between, but Princess Redwing performs her part with exquisite fidelity and great depth of feeling. The play's highest merit is the opportunity it affords this accomplished actress. The love of this child of the forest for the splendid specimen of manhood in I The Death of Nat-u-Rich; Scene from "The Squaw Man" (Lasky). I