Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

65 in Review additions to the movie fare. Benson have left the theater any number of times in total ignorance as to whether the murderer was the Japanese valet or the old gentleman with the white whiskers who apparently died in the first act. But there can be no fault to find with the film "Three Faces East," either in its exquisitely ordered detail or in its plausible conclusion. I shall not tell the plot, of course, because the suspense is the thing, but I'll tell you that it is the story of the German and English spy systems during the war, with that best of all settings for intrigue and betrayal, an English country house, as a background. Show me a peaceful English countryside, with the butler and the gardener engaging in a friendly little chat, and I can tell you that the butler isn't really a butler, and that those dark stains on the flagging are blood. ^ Jetta Goudal is the beautifully dressed and lovely spy. She is at all times pictorially perfect. There is something about the scene in which Miss Goudal, dressed in a three-cornered, veiled hat, stands on a dark staircase holding a cocked revolver, that combines all the thrills in the world for me. Clive Brook is another deeply mysterious gentleman, and Robert Ames is a blithe young soldier with a cheerful, open face guaranteed to be spy-proof. Edythe Chapman and Henry Walthall are also in the cast. Henry Walthall is a fine actor, and I can't become reconciled just yet to seeing him as a father. The director, Rupert Julian, evidently took time off to study out his details and photograph them logically. It does not seem possible that this picture could have been filmed in separate units — the whole presents such an extraordinary sequence of events. There is a remarkable air raid in it, and while I know that it couldn't have been a real one, it fooled me completely. "Three Faces East" should make the pulses of old and young beat a little faster. Chicago Melodrama "That Royle Girl," D. W. Griffith's latest production, is an out-and-out melodrama of the most obvious type. Buoyed up by the unquestionable talents of D. W. Griffith and Carol Dempster, the brassy ring to the story is almost stifled — almost, but not entirely. The capable Miss Dempster is given plenty of opportunity, during the first part of the film, to show how variously she can manage her emotions, ranging from splendid burlesque to pitiful tragedy. She starts her career as a flippant and hopeful newsgirl, later tries modeling as a profession, and eventually dances in a cabaret, where she meets and falls in love with the sleek, clever Fred Ketlar, a song writer. From there she is plunged into a somewhat hectic murder trial, and, of course, there is a prosecuting attorney, none other than James Kirk Clire Brook, Jetta Goudal and Robert Ames in "Three Faces East," a World War spy picture. wood. Here the melodrama grows frankly tense, and credulity is stretched a trifle taut. However, I am not one to insist upon my realities, morning, noon, and night, so I have no complaint to offer. The picture ends in a cyclone. Nowadays, when ordinary methods fail, the director, or the author, calls upon outside influence in the shape of fire, wind, or flood, and I will say that it usually, works. What common sense cannot settle a good high wind will blow away, and it's more spectacular, besides. W. C. Fields, that most flawless of all comedians, is in the picture, but there isn't nearly enough of him. To me, Mr. Fields is the funniest man in the world. If he lifts an eyebrow, the scene is his, and no matter how poor and ragged he gets, he is always a grand, worldly man-about-town. I hope Paramount will use him in every picture they decently can for the rest of the year. Harrison Ford, another fine and not-much-lauded actor, plays the part of the sophisticated young song writer. The picture is adapted from the story by Edwin Balmer. Kiddies and Animals In "Mike," a production directed, written, and very nearly acted by Marshall Neilan, we have one of those old-fashioned, sure-fire tales about a lovable little ragamuffin, some endearing animals, engaging kiddies, and plenty of extra hokum thrown in for good measure. Do not mistake my falsely kind tone. I did not like "Mike," and I would not like any picture faintly resembling "Mike," but now that that is said I can go about my business impersonally. Sally O'Neil, that cute little baggage who was so attractive in "Sally, Irene, and Mary," is the bright light of the picture. She lives with her assorted brothers in a box car, wears overalls, and seems pert and pretty, but the main fault of the whole picture is that it has no plot. A very small thing to cavil about, you will say, but an omission that becomes more and more noticeable as the film progresses. This discrepancy does not seem to have worried Mr. Neilan, however, and as the story gets thinner, the animals, kiddies, and quaint characters become more numerous, until, by the time the