Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1921)

Photoplay Magazine 59 ceptibility of the spectator. Being a reasonably calm, ordinary sort of individual we left the theater believing strongly that the author of the picture was a little mad, the director a little madder, the actors engaged quite mad indeed. The American distributors bought the picture from its German owners. Yet we were conscious of having seen a perfect sample of that cubistic art of which we have read so much since the first nude descended the staircase looking like a patchwork quilt in eruption. "Caligari," then, is the weird story of a German scientist who carts a somnambulistic youth about the country in a coffin-like cabinet, sets him up at county fairs as an exhibit and releases him at night that he may commit a murder or two between bedtime and breakfast. It is a story told, and seen, by a disordered mind, with all the scenery jumbled in fantastic shapes and the features of the players weirdly angular and wildly staring. But it is momentarily returned to normal at its conclusion and the effect is one of having seen an Edgar Allan Poe thriller cleverly transferred to the screen. We would not, however, take the children. They will be just as well off and a lot happier if they do not meet " Dr. Caligari." The German actors are excellent, Werner Krause giving a good performance as the weird doctor and Conrad Yeidt an uncanny subject. PECK'S BAD BOY— First National IT is a rare acting talent and a lovable personality that Jackie Coogan brings to the screen. But his directors will be hard put to it to find stories to fit him. Probably never again will he have the chance that Charlie Chaplin gave him in "The Kid." He misses it in "Peck's Bad Boy." largely by reason of the contrast this picture offers to the master comedy in which he made his debut. But he is still a fine little actor, surprisingly unconscious of the camera and capable of holding an audience's undivided attention so long as he is in view. As the mischievous Henry he filches the grocer's prunes and dried apples, fools father out of circus money and finally fills the same unhappy parent's lumbago pad with ants, causing more or less commotion when father carries the ants to church with him. We fear for Jackie, after seeing him carried around New York and kept constantly on exhibition for the benefit of the publicity men of his organization. But we hope for the best. It would be a great pity if his little head should be hopelessly turned — turned so far, that is, that he suddenly would find himself running backward in place of forward. MADE IN HEAVENGoldwyn HERE is another happy Irish hero for Tom Moore to toy with — a lad who arrives from Ireland with his dad and his sister in the first reel and achieves the fire department in the second, invents a flame extinguisher in the third, acquires a dress suit in the fourth and the pretty heroine in the fifth. A pleasant little comedy, with laughing Tom employing his usual good taste in the selection of heroines. One good look at Helene Chadwick, even through clouds of smoke, and he promptly picks her up, throws her across his shoulder and carries her down a long ladder to safety and future closeups. He is a versatile boy, too, with a convincing way with him. You could no more doubt his being a good fireman than you could question his being a good whitewing in "Hold Your Horses," and though "Made in Heaven" lacks the body of that particularly good comedy, it is worthy of inclusion in the current Moore series. We were a little mixed as to why, and when, he changed his name. The program called him Lowry, and the subtitles spoke of him as O'Gara. But he rather favored the O'Garas in appearance, so we'll blame the printer for the Lowry. Victor Schertzinger directed the picture from a story written by William Hurlbut. Renee Adoree (the new Mrs. Moore) plays a smart part prettily. HUSH— Equity CELDOM have we seen a heroine so intent upon telling her **J husband an episode of her past that she knew would result in their estrangement, as the lady who is the mainspring of the action in "Hush." She simply refuses to listen to reason. Possibly because she knew if she did there would have been no picture. "Hush," therefore, never really gets under way as a reasonable stor}\ and its obvious moral — that where Pauline Frederick is excellent in her four roles in Roads of Destiny, a photoplay adapted from Channing Pollock s stage play, which was based on the original story by O. Henry. Griffith s Dream Street is not a super-picture but an interesting and beautifully-screened regular picture. It would lose nothing but padding and repetition by being cut from twelve to seven reels. "The Whistle, a story of the struggle between capital and labor, provides Wm. S. Hart with one of his best roles. A drab picture, painted with brilliant touch.