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THUMBNAIL REVIEWS
"Nine Days a Queen."
"Dancing Pirate." — RKO. Here is a picture like a beautiful waif, a lovely outcast. No one has a good word to say for it; no one wants it. Ten persons whose judgment ordinarily is good tell me it is inexcusable. I befriended it because I like it, because its beauty has value in my eyes. I contend that it is the best example of color photography that the screen has given us; that the color is truer than in "The Trail of the Lonesome Pine" and the tableaus and costumes are more artistic than in "Becky Sharp." Of course the story is light. It should be for a singing and dancing exhibit. But it holds charm and originality for me. I like the idea of a dancing man, with a noose around his neck ready for hanging, dancing to save his life. I've not seen that before. Nor have I seen much else that this picture gives me, including the agile and individual stepping of Charles Collins and the graceful dancing of Steffi Duna.
"Nine Days a Queen." — Gaumont-British. A bloody page of English history is finely realized in this story of Lady Jane Grey's brief occupancy of the British throne and her death at the hands of Mary Tudor. The gentle girl, victim not of her own ambition but the plotting of her elders, is beautifully played by Nova Pilbeam, a bonnie lass if ever there was one, and Sir Cedric Hardwicke is very fine as her enemy, the "Earl of Warwick." You will also respond to Desmond Tester as the boy King Edward whose speech reminds one of Freddie Bartholomew and whose acting is remarkable. The entire picture is done with taste, restraint and that fidelity to fact which make these historical films a proud record of England's achievement.
"Poppy." — Paramount. W. C. Fields's infrequent appearances should teach something to other stars, for he becomes more important with fewer pictures and, if anything, better, even when he mumbles and fumbles his lines. He is more appreciated than when he made this
"The Princess Comes Across."
oppy.
picture as "Sally of the Sawdust" years ago under the direction of D. W. Griffith, with Carol Dempster instead of the Rochelle Hudson of to-day. Now he is an institution, comparable to no other comedian, and suggesting no one in his characterization of a likable scoundrel. While critics hymn praises of Chaplin's universality, they must not forget that Mr. Fields is supremely powerful because of his ineluctable Americanism.
"The Princess Comes Across." — Paramount. This is the month's best example of glib comedy combined with murder, mystery and melodrama — a popular pattern nowadays. But this picture has distinction and subtlety as well, not to mention sparkling performances by Carol Lombard and Fred MacMurray, the best, in fact, that this popular leading man has given. Miss Lombard as a Brooklyn girl masquerading as Swedish royalty in the interests of a movie contract tops anything she has given us, including her extraordinary exhibit in "Twentieth Century." You feel that her accent burlesques Garbo's, until you remember that the Norse goddess speaks perfect English; therefore Miss Lombard deserves all the more credit for suggesting the comparison.
"Hearts Divided." — Warners. Dick Powell as a Corsican and a Bonaparte to boot isn't so edifying. In fact, it's miscasting at its worst, for which I am the last to blame Mr. Powell himself. Let's be nice and lay it to the exigencies of his contract and forget it. He is Marion Davies's hero in an elaborate costume film which twists the story of Betsy Patterson, belle of Baltimore, and her marriage to Napoleon's brother Jerome. The picture has the Emperor of the French talking her out of it. Last scene of all has Miss Davies with tears of sacrifice streaming from her eyes and Mr. Powell presumably reconciled to marriage with a Wurttemburg and the title of King of Westphalia. I knew I'd hit upon ham sooner or later! Anyway, the picture is a waste of talent.
"Hearts Divided."