Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

The Screen in Review 95 Continued from page 71 enough to mistake the false jewels used in the movie for real ones, and steal them. It will surely not please Ben Lyon's fans to see him in the role of a halfwit, and not a sympathetic one at that. And just as absurd is the casting of Mary Brian, a girl under twenty, as the wardrobe mistress of the studio, a job invariably held by a mature, if not middleaged, woman. But for that matter, the whole picture is a blunder. It's the sort of footless satire that represents the director as a bored young man with a monocle, a cane, a carnation, and a handkerchief tucked in his cuff. The Dove and the Hawk. It's an error to allow one's faith to waver while in love. That is the moral, so-called, pointed out by a subtitle in "Love's Greatest Mistake." For the rest of it, the picture goes on to tell the more or less old story of the girl from the country who comes to visit her sister in the city, and is pursued, in the usual way, by the wealthy villain, and is doubted by the worthy hero, this time an architect. And in the course of time the heroine's pearls, a gift from the villain, are torn from her neck by the hero and scattered all over the place, quite in the manner of well-trained movie beads. The ending is peaches and cream. How did you guess it? However, in spite of a worn story, the picture is made interesting by bright direction and little surprises from time to time. Josephine Dunn is the rural heroine, but hardly looks the part. A more knowing buttercup you never saw. The fine talents of Evelyn Brent are wasted on the sister who is no better than she should be, as the saying goes, and James Hall seems not wholly at ease. William Powell gives by far the best performance. Those Charming Peorians. If you know your recipe for sophisticated comedy, a la "The Marriage Circle," just add a dash of "So This Is Paris," flavor with "For Wives Only," think of some others of the same school, and vou will have "Don't Tell the Wife." Only, of course, you may not consider this dashing, flavoring, and thinking worth the result. "Don't Tell the Wife" scarcely is worth while, and certainly not as a starring picture for Irene Rich. She is Mrs. John Smith, of Peoria, Illinois, in Paris with her husband, who becomes enamored of Lilyan Tashman. To get even with him Mrs. Smith flirts with Miss Tashman's husband, a double divorce is procured, new marriages are seemingly arranged, but at the last moment — oh, quite the last moment the censors would allow — the kindly lawyer interrupts the two honeymoons with the news that the original marriages were not dissolved at all. So the quartet decide that things were best as they were. It is all supposed to be quite smart and just a bit naughty. Huntly Gordon is John Smith. The Wigmakers' Revel. "The Beloved Rogue," John Barrymore's new picture, purports to be the story of Francois Villon, vagabond poet of France, in the 15th century. Whatever Villon may have meant to you, you will find him a romping fellow now, given to comic tumbles and falls, with a predilection for acrobatics. All this instead of the woeful, tragic dignity, the fiery eloquence, and those darker sides of his nature without which no presentment of the character should have been attempted. The story set forth has Francois the leader of the beggars, vagabonds, and petty criminals, given to defying law and order, but always harmlessly. He falls in love with Charlotte, ward of Louis XI, but before anything can come of it the king orders her marriage to the Duke of Burgundy. When this is about to take place, Villon and his vagabonds throng the courtyard to rescue Charlotte; and the king, disguised as one of them, hears the traitorous Burgundy proclaim himself the next monarch of France, and puts a stop to the marriage. Villon captures the fancv of the king is installed in the palace, woos Charlotte, is eventually taken by the Burgundians and put through elaborate torture. Evidently a great deal has been cut out of the picture, for important events are covered by subtitles, and at times the story limps feebly, while pranks hold the screen. Conrad Veidt, the German actor, gives the only convincing characterization in the picture as the king. Marceline Day, as Charlotte, gave all she could to her marcel before the picture began, so there was little else to give when she started to act. Join the Navy. "Let It Rain" is a story of the marines, but it isn't another war picture by any means. All the warfare that happens is the prankish rivalry between the gobs and the leathernecks aboard a battleship, and that is put over with such discretion and good humor that the picture may be said to be another reason to join the navy and have a jolly time. That deft good taste we have come to expect of Douglas MacLean, as well as his pictures, is fully present in this one. It is smooth, effortless comedy, with no one straining a sinew to be funny. The plot? I beg to be excused, except to say that MacLean is "Letit-rain" Riley, a dapper marine, who instigates most of the tussles with the sailors. His chief rival is Kelly, who becomes his rival in love when Shirley Mason pays a visit to the ship, is naively mistaken for a millionaire's daughter because she use? engraved visiting cards, but is found to be a telephone operator. All this makes for light, wholesome entertainment. More to Be Pitied Than Scorned. "Rubber Tires" is certainly no misnomer. The picture is as dull as the title, though it has a good cast and somewhere there was a novel idea. But it seems to have been painstakingly deflated, until nothing remains but the sight of familiar faces in interminable footage. The proceedings begin with the Stack family — Pa, Ma, the freckled Charley, and Mary Ellen, the flower of the family, because she, at least, sprouts an idea. It is that they sell their furniture, buy an automobile, and cross the continent to California in search of Lady Luck. This is done in an antiquated car, and they become just another group of drab tourists. While all this is taking place, the manufacturer of the car offers ten thousand dollars for its return, because it is the first model put out by the company. Ignorant of its new value, Mary Ellen exchanges it en route for another car. and the rest of the picture is given over to its recover}-. Harrison Ford. Bessie Love, May Robson. and Junior Coghlan are featured. Not to Be Trifled With. Bebe Daniels offers an excellent, though conventional, characterization as Ginette, in "A Kiss in a Taxi" — that of a hot-tempered waitress in a Montmartre cafe — and she manages, rather successfully, to look like a French girl of fiction. The picture is entertaining, too, with the flavor of the stage farce which served as its inspiration. It begins with a lively situation in which a group of masculine patrons bet that among them is not one who can win a kiss from Ginette. Various attempts are made, which the girl violently frustrates by means of a bombardment of glassware. But when the right Continued on page 114