Picture-Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

CG The Screen Critical summaries of the By Sally A ballet girl captures the attentions of a grand duke— Laura La Plante and Pat O'Malley in "The Midnight Sun," a film of prewar Russia. THE new Universal film production, "The Midnight Sun," is a tale of Russia before the war. Revolutions defeat their own purposes by establishing aristocracies instead of dissolving them; they turn the fact of past comfort into the legend of past grandeur. We can challenge the present indisputably by, "Well, I don't think that's so wonderful," but we cannot so easily question the fable, "You should have seen it before the war." It is only natural, then, for any film company yearning toward something grand, glittering and gorgeous, to place their hopes in the indisputable past. Going on the theory that S't. Petersburg was St. Petersburg in the old days, Dimitri Buchowetzki set out, in "The Midnight Sun," to picture Russian tyranny in all its terror and splendor. It is an elaborate, expensive production, and the wonder is, that it was made in Universal City. Laura La Plante plays a beautiful young girl in the Russian ballet who has captured the attentions both of a grand duke, played by Pat O'Malley, and of a rich, determined Russian — presumably by her dancing. As usual, the protection of her virtue proves to be a terrible expense. I don't know just why virtue must always^ run up the bills that it does. In "The Midshipman." as I remember, a battleship, no less, was called upon to save the lady; in "The Midnight Sun," only a submarine chaser is used. America, first, last, and always. The_ chase between the submarine and the villain's yacht is the climax of the picture, preceded as it is by menace after menace. A dark horse— the quiet, beautifully uniformed aid to the prince — wins the girl. There are a few breathless minutes when the hero faces a firing squad, and others even more breathless when Miss La Plante partially disrobes behind a screen. "The Midnight Sun" is for all those who prefer real caviar to dyed whitefish eggs, and as a matter of fact, I like these little luxuries myself. I'd rather, any day, see a dissolute prince going about his business than to see grandma coughing in the front parlor, and not liking it. Raymond Keane, Cesare Gravina, and Arthur Hoyt are in the cast, to say nothing of a George B. Williams, who is listed simply as "Ruined Banker." And a ruined banker is worth anybody's money. College, not "Kollege." "Brown of Harvard," a Metro-GoldwynMayer picture, blazes the trail as the first film of university life which has in it no hazing nor freshmen caps. It goes further than this — there are no college pennants, no "kampus klothes," no pillow fights, no fun in the dormitories. And not once was the word "frat" used. In fact, it is the pioneer of college pictures, the "Covered Wagon" of football films. "Brown of Harvard" is sure to set another fashion. The story itself is a little bit old-fashioned for its modern surroundings. The heroine fearful to do over an unlooked-for kiss, and makes a she is a little too much of the small-town belle to have fitted in with the sophisticated life of the Cambridge of to-day, but these things aren't important. "Brown of Harvard," that story of the youth of twenty years ago, has been brought up to date by Donald Ogden Stewart, and the bits in the original story that might have proven almost nauseating are passed over lightly. Jack Pickford is the featured player, but the story belongs to young William Haines from start to finish, and it must be said for Mr. Pickford that he gives up without a struggle. William Haines plays the rich, selfsatisfied boy who starts out to show every one where to get off ; Jack Pickford is his faithful anchor. And when the key changes to minor, the youthful tragedy is very well acted by William Haines. He has the appearance, certainly, and a good deal of the humor of Charles Ray in his younger days. That almost sounds like a reminiscence. Heaven forbid ! But I think that William Haines is too humorous a young man to take himself in a serious way. The boat race at New London is pretty, and there is enough pleasant inebriation about it to make it seem authentic. The football game at the Stadium, the crowds, the scoreboard and all, are exciting. Mary Brian plays the slightly backward heroine, and David Torrence and Mary Alden officiate as father and mother. The subtitles reduced an already delighted audience to helpless laughter. Gilda Gray and Beautiful Scenery. "Aloma of the South Seas," the Paramount picture starring Gilda Gray, the dancer, is about the loveliest sight I have seen. Palm trees and stretches of beach and sea are thrown on the screen, and they are unbelievably beautiful. And then, there is Gilda Gray, the only person in the world who could eclipse such a background. It really seems as though this talented young woman could do almost anything. Certainty, no one