Visual Education (Jan-Dec 1921)

FILMS VIEWED AND REVIEWED THE WITCHING HOUR r^EEING the film version of Augustus .^ Thomas's THE WITCHING HOUR is believing beyond question Mr. Maugham's statement, quoted elsewhere in this magazine, that a play as a play is seldom suited to the screen. The producers, Famous Players-Lasky, have done just what the eminent writer wishes producers would not do — namely, tried to transfer the drama to the screen, rather than re-interpret the story in a form adapted to film technique. The plot of "The Witching Hour," of course, is so essentially good that no amount of nearsighted copy work can quite ruin it. The story moves across the screen smoothly and interestingly enough, as movies go, but compared to the original play, the picture falls far short of what it might be. The chief difficulty is in the abruptness and brevity with which the motive of psychic force is "put over." Telepathy and hypnotism are subjects too vaguely supported by scientific evidence, and too replete with dramatic possibilities based on the subtleties of the mind, to be dealt with in the summary manner of the regulation moving picture. In the stage play, Judge Prentice remarks to Jack Brookfield, the clever gambler, "... It's my opinion that everyone reads the thoughts of others. That is, some of the thoughts." And those very words "everyone" and "some," followed by a several-sided discussion of some of the abnormalities of psychology, not only cast out all suggestion of charlatanry, but add a touch of mystery, and prepare one for the climax. Not so the film, however, with its snappy sub-titles and complacent acceptance of telepathy and hypnotism as incontrovertible facts to be depended upon by anyone. Things are not argued, surmised, hinted, or tried — they just are, by means of bare statements in the emphatic manner of the screen, supported only by abrupt shots of the high spots in .the drama. Most of this is accepted, no doubt, by a public easily fascinated by popular occultisms, but with questionable effect on its mental outlook. That delicate and somewhat psychological effects are not unadapted to the screen and can be artistically achieved now and then is proved by the wistful delicacy with which Judge Prentice's memory of his long-ago sweetheart is pictured in the hoop-skirted girl moving slowly through a remembered room, surrounded by a very certain fragrance of mignonette, and shadowed by the words of Bret Harte's poem beginning "And ever since when the clock strikes two She walks unbidden from room to room," etc. To create some real laughter, apparently, amid scenes of little humor, a disproportionate amount of footage is given to the negro servant's account of the "hoodoo" laid upon him at a cake-walk festivity. The wild dancing and ogling of the colored belles and beaux is decidedly amusing, but utterly extraneous to the plot. Later, we see Clay Whipple in prison. In a frenzy of aversion for a cat's-eye scarf pin which one of Brookfield's guests forced upon his attention, he has committed murder. Behind the bars he sadly dreams of his erstwhile approaching marriage with the gambler's pretty niece, and in fancy sees his fiancee and himself at the altar. Well enough. But just as the ceremony is to proceed, a rude rope falls suddenly from on high and encircles the bridegroom's neck, in such a miraculous manner that one wonders if this amazing interpolation was designed to force a second burst of laughter. Something tells us no, however, for the shock awakens the poor lad to the four walls of his cell and he shakes with grief. The cast, it may be said, is well chosen. Elliott Dexter has the where-withal to impersonate a clever gambler not unacquainted with the demands of a drawing room and possessed of ideas of honor, and he does it sincerely. Mary Alden's fine type of womanhood sets well in the 29