Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Jul 1929)

Continued from page 92 make-up is rather good. That's as much as one can say about any mimic Bonaparte. Frank Reicher, as the Barber, does most of the talking capably enough, but the naturalness of Philippe de Lacy, as his son, stands out from all the self-conscious histrionics of his elders. Kindergarten Romance. Sufficiently innocuous and insipid to baffle criticism, "Some One to Love" must merely go on record as the second starring picture of Mr. Rogers, who prefers the Christian name of Charles to the nickname of "Buddy." A brief recital of its plot — there's just a kernel — will indicate the draft made upon the acting ability of the star, Mary Brian, William Austin, Jack Oakie, and the rest of the cast. Mr. Rogers is an ambitious musicstore clerk about to wed Miss Brian, an heiress to twenty million, when she is led to suspect that he is a calculating fortune hunter. The young man clears himself by putting a languishing girls' school on its feet, his sincerity is somehow assured, and the pair make up. All this is pleasant enough, for Mr. Rogers and Miss Brian are agreeable, if not electrifying performers, and the antics of Mr. Austin and Mr. Oakie are pointed off with humorous titles. It is kindergarten romance. A Word to the Wise. Once more William Boyd is wasted on a roughneck role. This sacrifice of his decided talents might be justified if there were any substance to the picture, but there isn't. Little is demanded of Mr. Boyd, except what we shall call a he-man swagger and the utterance of a lot of wisecracks as if he thought them funny. He and his pal — these fellows always come in pairs — work on the construction of a dam. These scenes are fairly interesting, because the dam is impressive. But the antics of the duo in the small town near by are hopelessly labored. In their innocence they are snared by an adventuress, who promises them Tke Screen in ReViev? separately that she will marry them. When she disappears with the money she has coaxed out of them, the sons of toil realize they have been duped and jointly vow, "Never again!" What is plainly thought to be an irresistibly human and comic touch is seen in their running after the next girl who comes their way. If this resume of the proceedings intrigues you, by all means see the picture. Only don't blame me when Mr. Boyd retires from the screen, as he is likely to do if this sort of thing keeps up. Under a Blanket. "Caught in the Fog" is not likely to catch any one by its faint interest, thin, preposterous story and routine acting, though its snatches of dialogue may count with those who have heard few talking pictures. The entire story transpires aboard a houseboat moored in Florida waters — and an ordinary, unattractive craft it is, too. May McAvoy and Charles Gerrard steal in with flash lights and tackle the wall safe. Interrupted by Conrad Nagel, Mr. Gerrard conceals himself and leaves little May to face the music. But as May has never played anything but a heroine in her screen career, you know the music will be the wedding march. An elderly couple arrive on board, with the announcement that they are expected guests, whereupon Mr. Nagel, Mr. Gerrard, and May pass themselves off as servants. Comic detectives are later arrivals, with much futile scurrying about on the part of all the characters. Of course Mr. Nagel is the son of the family owning the boat, and the supposed guests are really thieves, but how little May happens to be implicated in an attempted theft in the first place is not divulged. She just promises to "go straight" — and that lets plausibility go flying out of the window. All this hullabaloo in Hollywood over the marvel of Mr. Nagel's voice is nonsense. It is distinct, yes, but as hollow as most of the roles he plays. As Miss McAvoy has already been heard, why be cruel? 99 The One and Only. "My Man" is another of those pictures devised to exploit the talents of a singing star by means of the Vitaphone. Fannie Brice is the star, and the result is successful. This means that she sings numerous ditties in her characteristic manner, with the same droll effect that has made her a leading comedienne on the stage. In fact, she loses little or nothing in the transition, and I imagine that all who see her for the first time will love her. Or at least laugh with and at her, which is a higher tribute, when you come to think of it. Her role is that of an elder sister, who keeps her little family going by means of her work as a seamstress in a big establishment, where her songs and mimicry endear her to all the girls. In time she is brought to the attention of a theatrical producer — the same man, by the way, who is paying secret attentions to Fannie's wayward sister. By accident Fannie learns the truth at the moment she is having a try-out before the producer. Of course her breaking heart makes her act a temporary failure. There is more heartbreak for Fannie when the young man she is about to marry is vamped by her sister, which paves the way for Fannie, in bridal finery, to sing "My Man," Miss Brice's own particular contribution to the undying belief that clowns laugh while their hearts are breaking. But Fannie finds compensation in her art, for soon after she ceases to be a bride without a husband, she is seen as the star of a revue, which justifies more of her songs. "My Man" is genuinely entertaining, without being a milestone in motion pictures. Purely as a vehicle for Miss Brice it is admirable. It should not be judged by any other criterion. Edna Murphy, as the wicked sister, has an extraordinarily unsympathetic role, which she makes the most of, and Guinn Williams, a capital comedian, is likable in spite of his cruel treatment of the singing heroine. Continued from page 33 Before they left that night they had elected Virginia president — she served for two years, by the way — and agreed that the new sorority should meet at a member's home every Monday night. They started recruiting members right away, and among the first to join were Jobyna Ralston, Dorothy Devore, Mary Philbin, Grace Gordon, Vera Reynolds, and Mary Astor. "Naturally the membership of a glub changes in four years," Priscilla The Hollywood Sorority went on, "and we have lost several of our charter members for various reasons. Dorothy Devore got married and felt she could not leave her husband for one entire evening a week, as he often had guests at their home on Monday nights. We hated to lose Dorothy, for she was one of the best members we ever had. Hard work separated Vera Reynolds from the club, and there is a funny little story connected with how Mary Philbin happened to leave us. "We have always held very late meetings. Usually the girls stay talking over their sandwiches and tea until twelve thirty or one o'clock in the morning. One night Mary Philbin forgot how late it was getting, and stayed until eleven thirty. Her father had always insisted that Mary be home by ten o'clock, and so he never allowed her to come to the club again." "We've often thought of organizContinued on page 107