Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

12 What the Fans Think Continued from page 8 ment. By continuing with creative directors, developing creative writers for the screen, who would be on a par with the creative writers of fiction and the stage, thus giving their fine, creative artists still greater opportunity, the cinema would, in a relatively short time, not be subservient to any other art or form of entertainment. The Vitaphone, if universally adopted, as seems contemplated, must and will developed a technique, a form of entertainment as alien and distinct from that now associated with the cinema, as in the past the cinema-has been differentiated from the stage. By means of great directors and great actors, the cinema has at times reached the best and finest in dramatic art, has laid the heart of life bare, and this solely by silent drama. With the coming of, the accursed Vitaphone, all the art and achievement of the past is seriously jeopardized. With the Vitaphone the smooth effect of varied action must be cut and always subordinated to the voice, to. words, thus striking at the very heart of all that motion pictures have come to represent. With theVitaphone, one has a feeling of discord within, or a sensation like a tug-of-war. That part of one's receiving set which the cinema has developed is led to expect one thing, and before this is completed, the mind must be focused on the voice. . .It is a case of oil and water mixing, in my humble estimation. Now the producers, tinder the spell of the Vitaphone, demand that the great cinema public shall unlearn all that has been learned, and which has developed such capable critics. They make indirect apology for past performances, and affirm that what the cinema has lacked was the human voice; now there will be great entertainment. Do not think I am indifferent to the unlimited possibilities of the Movietone and , Vitaphone. It will prove beneficent to isolated districts. The news reels, the actual recording of the voices of eminent people, the possibilities for comedy of the Sennett and Christie types, and most of all the actually thrilling effect of listening to the rendition of operatic selections by our greatest singers, may be noted among the present advantages of the Vitaphone. But an opera in its entirety — no ! Drama — never ! Incidentally, I am curious to know how this Vitaphone innovation is going to affect the exportation of films. Jealous England, France, Germany, and Italy must be chortling. In Italy I became so accustomed to the language and the foreign titles that it seemed Leatrice Joy, Mary Pickford, Gloria Swanson and all the rest, were speaking Italian. With the Vitaphone, how will this be managed? I shall haunt the common variety known as silent drama as long as it exists, and shall probably be drawn more and more to my first love, the stage. From indications throughout the country, it seems to be already taking on new life. Patricia Leigh. Hotel Pasadena, New York City. Young Men for Old! Of the fans who write to this department, the letter by E. V. W. in the July issue impressed me as the most outspoken I have read in a long time. I say this because not even Malcolm H. Oettinger would dare to write such a letter without feeling qualms of mis judgment. E. V. W.'s letter is the kind every producer and star should bear in mind, especially the older stars. Considering, however, why so many of the older stars prefer male leads who are younger than themselves, is a matter of interest. I believe in keeping many of these older stars from vanishing entirely. Miss Talmadge's pictures have proved the possibility of that of late, and so have Miss Negri's. The Only older star who really can choose younger leading men is Mary Pickford. She is always youthful. In fact, she looks no older to-day than she did years and years ago. Another star, who chooses her heroes with judgment, is, Jetta Goudal. Also, Gloria Swanson is by no means caught napping. In fact, Miss Swanson's pictures are perfection. So much for that. Now for Myrtle Gebhart's article, "Voices Are Tested for the Movies, Now." Right here let me say that I am one who prefers movies silent. Sitting through a film with numerous players trying, to do a lot of pretty talk, or else screeching at the top of their voices, is apt to be monotonous. I know this to be true, for I have seen quite a few talking pictures. The first of these, "The Jazz Singer," had its good points, of course, but the dialogue was bad. Irene Rich, in a playlet, caused giggles because she tried to do too much with her limited voice. I have noticed that the Vitaphone never conveys the sound of the actual voice. The sound is always artificial, affected, unreal. As for the threatened deluge of talking pictures, I can't imagine any one wanting to listen to Lilyan Tashman's coarse, husky tones, or to Ronald Colman playing an American hero with a perfect English accent. Me for the silent movies, comfort and ease always. I agree with Norbert Lusk that "there is too much unnecessary noise in the world as it is, not a little of it coming from human throats." How true, Mr. Lusk. N. G. S. Welcome, Carmencita and Lolita. Our fingers itched so much to scribble our opinions concerning the stars that finally we took pen and paper. We hope very much that our statements will not ruffle the explosive loyalty of other fans. Greta Garbo has won the admiration of Manila moviegoers as has no other actress. There is really something about her that fascinates and delights the eyes of the audience. Constance Talmadge and Mae Murray are positively disgusting, with the silly mimicry they call comedy. We are glad we are gradually seeing less of them. Olive Borden's stupid acting forces us to join the crowd of fans who shout, "Stop posing. Do some real acting." As to Julanne Johnston and Carmelita Geraghty, we are tired of reading about them in "Over the Teacups." They have done nothing really worth while as yet, but Fanny the Fan is sure to tell some nonsense about them, and ignore better actresses, such as, for instance, Dolores del Rio and Doris Kenyon. Dolores has justified her emotional talent in such pictures are "What Price Glory," "Resurrection," "Loves of Carmen," "Ramona," and "The Trail of '98." Dramatic critics awarded her the silver trophy of the Wampas ball, and thousands of fans acclaim her, and yet Fanny the Fan never has anything but something mean to say about her. We congratulate H. B. Warner for his portrayal of Christ. We felt we came nearer to Him. We also thank Cecil De Mille for his direction of "The King of Kings." He made us realize the beauty of Christ's life, far more than all the Bible verses we ever memorized. Carmencita and Lolita. Manila, Philippine Islands. Only the Second Greatest Actress? There is a beautiful lady, a recent arrival in the realms of the silver screen, whom I have only seen once, but who, in that single performance, has established herself, in my estimation, as the second greatest actress on the screen. The first is, of course, the incomparable Garbo. This lady of whom I am speaking, in her portrayal of a wicked and worldly wise woman, completely entranced me. Although she was supposed to inspire my wrath, she intrigued me instead. Her name is Olga Baclanova, and to me she is a real addition to the ever-fascinating world of motion pictures. Her interpretation of the seductive Duchess, in "The Man Who Laughs," was a performance which ranked beside Conrad Veidt's in its horrible attraction. Compared with the lifeless Mary Philbin as the sentimental heroine, Dea, Miss Baclanova's performance stood out as black does against white. Who can ever forget how, with lips curved in disdain and eyes glittering with fantastic hate, she denounced the Laughing Man before the Queen ? A lady deserving of all the flattering adjectives at one's command is worth the attention of all. Recently Paramount has considered her fine enough to bless with a five-year contract. They intend to make her a second Pola Negri. Anne. Woodstock, New York. Love Me, Love My Dog! A fan writing in the June issue remarked that her favorite players reminded her of various composers and their melodies. My favorites prompt me to compare them with dogs. I don't know why, except that I like dogs, having owned quite a number, and I like movie actors, having seen so many on the screen. _ I don't intend the similes to be offensive, and hope they will not be considered so. I have never been able to understand why a certain fan made such a fuss because Maria Corda was supposed to have named one of her collies "Miss Banky." Said fan seemed to think it was an insult, and loudly proclaimed her allegiance to Vilma. I know nothing of the truth of the incident in question, but I really cannot see why being compared to a collie is not a tremendous compliment. / would consider it so — unless, of course, the dog was cross-eyed ! Here are the different dogs which my favorites make me think of : Phyllis Haver cannot be compared to one, unless it be a white poodle, and there is so much more depth to Phyllis than there is to a poodle. Begging permission to make an exception to the animal mentioned above, Phyllis makes me think of an animated white kitten with a huge, pink bow — and claws under fur which covers seemingly innocent paws. Karl Dane — A great Dane, naturally, with an unexpected streak of grave humor. Charles Farrell — A mischievous, disheveled Kerry-blue terrier, immediately after he has destroyed half the hall rug, and immediately before he knows that you have discovered the damage. John Gilbert — A glossy, black cocker spaniel after his daily brushing. Lina Basquette — A dark-furred Pomeranian, with silver harness hidden in silky, smoky fur. Leatrice Joy — A sleek Doberman Pinscher on promenade. Billie Dove— A frivolous-looking chow!