Screenland (Oct 1923-Mar 1924)

The Rudolph Wurlitzer Co., Dept. zm 117 E. 4th St.. Cincinnati —329 So. Waoasi Ave., Chicago 120W.42ndSl.,NewYork— 250 StocktonSL.SanFraocisco Send me your new catalog, which illustrates and describes every known musical instrument, many of them shown in full colors, all at lowest lactory prices. Also tell me how I may have any instrument on a week's trial in my own home at your expense and without obligation, and may pay for it on your special easy payment plan. Name Address 12 Ow*l 1**2. TK, ttudolvh WnrlUuT Co. ROLF ARMSTRONG paints RUDOLPH VALENTINO in words By Rolf Armstrong A N ancient Chinese mask looks down from my studio wall — slant-eyed, sphinx like. jT\. Along the sunny quays of the Mediterranean, I have seen groups of swarthy, vivid Italian and Spanish sailors. A toreador, small flat ears of an angry bob-cat, brushed my shoulder as he left the reddened bull-ring. I can tell when a boxer first senses that his opponent is helpless. The eyes that direct the knock-out. Valentino recalled these things to my mind, in my first glance at him. Immediately I knew that here was not merely the talented actor, nor the screen's most famous lover, but a man of unique, and subtle individuality, with strange power to stir the imagination. The oddly varied memories he stirred in me had, after all, one quality in common— intensity. And Valentino is intensity incarnate. This, then, was the keynote of my portrait. To accentuate this characteristic, I invented a technique of severe simplicity, and a pose, and line composition calculated to climax in his smouldering eyes. In my sketch I endeavored to indicate, not only the mere arrangement of his features, so familiar from countless photographs, but that underlying spirit that no camera can reproduce. I hope I have interpreted both his force and his sensitiveness, and some exotic tang. The portrait is unconventional; it leaves much to the imagination. Necessarily so. For that is Valentino. Directory of New York ipeaking Theaters APOLLO — Poppy. A clean and altogether delightful musical entertainment, with W. C. Fields as a medicine show faker, a delight. BELMONT — Tarnish. An interesting new play by Gilbert Emery, author of The Hero. Ann Harding is excellent. BIJOU — The Whole Town's Talking. A lively biff-bang farce, aided by Grant Mitchell. BOOTH — The Seventh Heaven. One of the long run hits of New York, with plenty of Parisian atmosphere. BROADHURST — The Dancers. Gilbert du Maurier's sentimental melodrama of our jazz age, ably acted by Florence Eldredge and Richard Bennett. CASINO — Wildflower. One of the year's musical hits, with admirable music and a good cast. COHAN — Adrienne. Amusing musical entertainment, with Richard Carle and Billy V. Van. COMEDY— Children of the Moon. An odd drama built about family insanity. Has attracted considerable attention. CORT — The Swan. Molnar's brittle and brilliant comedy of love and royalty. The most distinguished offering of the new season. Superbly played, particularly by Eva Le Gallienne, Basil Rathbone, Philip Mervale and Halliwell Hobbes. Don't miss this. EARL CARROLL — Vanities of 1923. Bright and vivacious musical show, with the whimsical Joe Cook. More undress here — and of prettier girls — than in any other show in New York just now. ELTINGE — Red Light Annie. Brisk melodrama of The Deep Purple school, with Mary Ryan. EMPIRE — Casanova. Slender but picturesque play built about the famous eighteenth century lover. Lowell Sherman has interesting moments. FORTY-EIGHTH STREET — Zeno. Full of battle, murder and sudden death. Almost the ultimate in mystery dramas for such as likes 'em. FORTY-NINTH STREET — For All of Us. A typical William Hodge — podge melo-drama. FRAZEE — The Deep Tangled Wildwood. The newest Kaufman-Connelly comedy. GAIETY — Aren't We All? A pleasant English comedy with Cyril Maude doing unusually well. GARRICK— Windows. A John Galsworthy comedy and, consequently, well above the average. GLOBE — Stepping Stones, with Fred Stone. A Jerome Kern musical entertainment that lives up to Stone traditions. HARRIS — The Nervous Wreck. Owen Davis' laughing [Continued on next page]