Screenland (May-Jul 1926)

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"Do you want to come to my dressing room while I get ready for home?" asked Irene. "You see, I promised to be as early as possible so's we could go to the beach for dinner and on the roller-coaster once." Her eyes were shining. She was alive with something which greater folks than I can't understand. No, I'd not bother her. Rather, I'd hurry her on, for weren't they peeking out the window, watching that driveway from the crack in the door, looking for her, who never yet had failed them? No, I'd not bother her — she was going home! Bill Colling Roots for the News Reels— from page 39 the thrills are bound to come so thick and fast that you can't even wink without missing one of them. And the best recipe for yawning that I can think of is to put too much of anything into one picture, whether it's thrills, villainy, romance or what have you. "The Bar-C Mystery" is doubly handicapped in this respect because it is a story of the western plains. If you saw it "cold", without knowing its interesting history, you'd consider it just another western. It is full of villains, terrific hossback riding, and the usual "comedy" which seems to be standard equipment for these epics of the plains. The contest in this one is over the possession of a map which gives the location of a rich mine. The owner, pursued by the relentless desperadoes, shaves off his beard and becomes a wandering cowboy whose life is devoted to protecting the girl to whom he has previously given said map. Naturally all ends well, the villains are captured by the sheriff, and the hero finds that the girl has loved him all the time, beard or no beard. Like all westerns (and serials), the plot is only a branch on which to hang the thrills. What matters it that the hero doesn't appeal to the sheriff for protection in the first place* or that the simple possession of a map doesn't, under our present laws, mean possession of a mine itself? Every western and serial manuscript is carefully examined for logic, and if any is found, that script is immediately rejected. The big mystery in this film is why there should have been any mystery about it at all. Or perhaps it is, why did the hero shave? There are, however, two interesting things about "The Bar-C Mystery". The first is that it brings up a point common to this type of film — one upon which I neglected to comment last month. Have you ever noticed that in westerns and serials which are only as strong as their villains, the dirty work is often planned, and sometimes carried out, by a woman? Other types of pictures have women as villains occasionally, but the average is about one out of two in these thrillers. Women, it might be said by anyone so cynically inclined, come into their own in serials. Here they are given free rein to exercise their bottledup instincts toward desperate tactics; but of course, on the other hand, we always have the heroine who is fhe antithesis of the villainess in sweetness, virtue and nobility of character. This is an interesting psychological sidelight on the purposes of femininity, but one which only a male of the sterling qualities of an heroic cowboy would dare to comment on at any length. The second point of note about this film is that its heroine is Dorothy Phillips, probably the most uneven actress on the screen. Before she left films, and since she has re turned, this girl has given some of the best and some of the worst performances I have ever seen. Like the little girl with the curl, when she is good, she's very, very good, and when she's bad, she's not so good. ' As the focal point of a combination serialwestern, Dorothy comes under the latter classification; but nevertheless, she's an arresting personality, and it is interesting to see her in a role similar to those in which she made her first success, many years ago. Jumping to the opposite extreme from the rough, crude life on the plains, we find ourselves, in "The Dancer of Paris", rubbing elbows with the hoity-toity set of boiled shirts and decollete gowns. This is a Michael Arlen opus, but if you're one of the many, including your correspondent, who have enjoyed his stories, you'll be due for a jolt which makes stepping off the second-fromthe-bottom step in the dark seem enjoyable by comparison. ■ Mr. Arlen (or perhaps it was the adaptor), has injected sophistication in large gobs in this splashy, trivial story of a dancer's life. In it, all the people seem to live in homes modeled after the Grand Central Terminal and to spend practically all their hours in the pursuit of pleasure. The dancer, tricked by an Englishman, devotes her time to unloading a large quantity of remorse on his sagging shoulders. But the revenge backfires, and in the end she sacrifices herself for his happiness and then, her debt paid, she finds some for herself in the love of the honest American who has stood by her through the well known thick and thin. Dorothy Mackaill is charming in the title role, but the character she portrays is so unpleasant that you can't work up much sympathy for her. The broken heart which she carries concealed in her bosom is lost amid the scenes of splendor and revelry which surround her and it. Conway Tearle is a pretty cold-blooded hero, too, and about the only one in the group for whom you feel sorry is the poor crack-brained villain. But then, "The Dancer of Paris" has six reels of gay parties, gorgeous sets and gowns, and half-draped ladies, and if that doesn't make a successful movie, I don't know what does. However, one of the best little program pictures I've seen for some time is "Two Can Play", which Associated Exhibitors is showing in your neighborhood, probably right now. Clara Bow is its star, and in it Clara returns to her first love, the flapper role. The more I see of this young lady's work, the better I like it. The story in this case is decidedly interesting and novel, for the villain turns out to be the hero, and vice-versa, after a smashing climax which leaves you gasping for air. Clara makes you love her as the flighty flapper who arouses all the he-man qualities of the hero and villain, and then she turns around and C