Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1925 - Feb 1926)

56 The Screen in Review Dorothy Gish, George Hackathorne, and Rod La Roque appear in "Night Life in New York more like a steeplechase to me, and Mr. Dix gets the money and the gal. The picture is called "The Lucky Devil" because the car is a hoodoo. I believe that's why they did it. Esther Ralston is the girl. I think she is unusually pretty and pleasant. Anthony Jowatt had a small part. He is to be with Gloria Swanson in "The Coast of Folly." Mr. Dix does inconsequential things with ease and grace. This is the second picture of his that I have liked. Edna May Oliver gives the best performance of the picture as the aunt. She really acts as though she might be somebody's aunt. I know, because I was an aunt myself, once. Found — Greta Nissen. As a picture, "Lost — a Wife" is only worth comment because it brings the lovely Greta Nissen to the screen. This beautiful young blonde made a spectacular debut in the stage version of "Beggar on Horseback" in New York. At the time I thought she was the loveliest thing I had ever seen, and she remains lovely even in a William de Mille picture. At times she is so overdecorated as to be hardly distinguishable. You know how the De Milles are. They either over or under decorate. I don't know whether she can act or not. There are too many what nots about, but she shouldn't have to. The picture was adapted from the French comedy "Banco." It has been adapted quite faithfully if I may use the word in relation to this picture. There is a divorced husband who hides in the room of his former wife and who spoils the honeymoon for her and incidentally for her aged count. Mr. de Mille has honestly tried to make it all in fun, and if you like bedroom comedies, this isn't a bad one. Adolphe Menjou behaves discreetly as the husband. Italian Olive Oil. Just why a literary classic is supposed to make a good picture is something that I haven't been able to decide. The best books make poor pictures, and I earnestly hope that no one wastes another penny of his money proving that I am wrong. "Cyrano de Bergerac," the Edmund Rostand classic, has been made into a dull picture by an Italian company. It is a "natural-color" picture, and not unskillfully done, but it is frightfully stupid. I don't quite know why. The story isn't bad, and there are times when the picture is really beautiful. The subtitles are taken in large chunks from the book. They are long and tedious. Pierre Magnier, a French cinema actor, gives a really fine, intelligent performance as Cyrano. He is one of the few good French cinema actors who has slipped passed Ellis Island. It is not easy to hold your own in a role made famous by Mansfield and Hampden, especially when you are assisted by a very mediocre cast. An Old-fashioned Thriller. If a picture comes to your theater called "The Limited Mail" go and take the children. It won't hurt them and you will have a rollicking time. It's about a couple of engineers with hearts of gold. When they aren't wrecking trains they are slapping one another on the back, or tossing a kiddie in the air. Sometimes they do all three things at once. That's when it's fun. Monte Blue is the Casey Jones of the picture. He has two other names. They are Bob Snobson, and Bob Wilson. There was a little trouble at home, I believe, before he became an engineer. He has a dear friend who sorts mail on a mail train. His name is Jim Fowler. You can see that he is a perfect prince. He is a widower, and the kiddie belongs to him. But pshaw! it's just like one big family in the boarding house where they all live, and whoever reaches the kiddie first can toss him. After a while Bob and Jim fall in love with the same girl, and it becomes necessary to wreck three trains before everything is right again. Every time they wrecked a train, the little boy got himself in a position to be saved, too. It was practically always a question of his life or hundreds of lives. Well, anyway, Monte Blue persevered until he got everybody on a train, and then he had a big final wreck, and the coast was what you might call clear. Jack Huff was the child. Vera Reynolds was the girl. I don't think she'd better take her work too seriously. There is a lovable old tramp, Willard Louis, and a