Page:The New Yorker 0001 1925-02-21.pdf/30

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Moving Pictures

HE American movie powers-that-be had so little faith in the German made “The Last Laugh” that, when they finally gave it a New York hearing, they put in a vapid “popular” film to attract the public, “The Last Laugh” showed up the American photoplay as infantile stuff. It was written by Carl Mayer, author of “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” and is a character study—related without subtitles and wholly in pantomime—of an aged hotel porter disintegrating under the heavy hand of age. The old fellow is superbly done by Emil Jannings, who comes mighty near being the most eloquent cinema actor of any land. Actually, “The Last Laugh” has more to recommend it than fine acting. It is a superb adventure into new phases of film direction. We have never seen the camera made so pliable to moods and moments. Frequently the camera takes the place of the white haired porter and, through the eve of the lens, you see as did the dimmed eyes of the broken old man. “The Last Laugh” is a splendid production.

In interesting contrast to “The Last Laugh” is an American experiment, “The Salvation Hunters,” done by one Josef Von Sternberg, who has been a minor film worker in the screen world for some years. When Von Sternberg revealed his finished film to Doug FaribanksFairbanks [sic], Charlie Chaplin and other eminent thinkers of Hollywood, they fell down and worshipped. Here, they said, was a celluloid epic by a high brow genius. The California intelligentsia jumped to conclusions. “The Salvation Hunters” does not live up to the expectations of its stellar sponsors, Von Sternberg announces that he is filming a thought for the first time and then takes three derelicts, a boy, a girl and a child, through a slow moving episode involving the efforts of a procurer to get possession of the gal. Most of the time the characters sit around and think. Hollywood has been misled by the idea that great drama is gloomy stuff. Thus they looked upon “The Salvation Hunters” as the real thing. We regret to report that it is deadly monotonous, without anything new in story telling, acting or direction. It has just one thing to recommend it. It is an experiment.

One other current movie, “The Lost World,” has an idea, i,e., what would happen if explorers should find a secluded nook of the earth where still dwell dinosauri, allosauri, pterodactyls and other monsters of the dim past. Trick photography is utilized to make these weird ancients seem real. Unfortunately the story accompanying this excellent trickery is pallid, indeed. The tribulations of a celluloid cutie are minor items when two brontosauri begin to muss up a whole forest in mortal combat.

Cecil de Mille has left Famous Players and is to be succeeded as director general by David Wark Griffith. Unless you know the men you can not possibly realize just what that statement means. De Mille has ruled the Famous–Lasky “lot” in Hollywood like a god for years.

Through these years Griffith has been getting poorer and poorer. He tried to make pictures as he pleased and spent all his money, along with all the money he could borrow, doing it.

Now Griffith has sacrificed his independence and gone over to the film system as its overlord. The other day he visited the Famous Players’ Long Island Studios, prior to taking official charge. The organization turned out to worship as they would have done at the approach of De Mille. Instead, they saw a puzzled, tired and even gaunt figure in an old overcoat and a shabby hat.

There is real significance in the Famous Players’ announcement that Kamiyama, a Japanese actor engaged for “East of Suez,” is Japan’s second greatest actor.

Thus subtly does modesty come sweeping down upon Hollywood.

Lofty as are the announcements of the movie producers, the slips back into circus phraseology are frequent. For instance, “A Thief in Paradise,” a recent opus of Director George Fitzmaurice, is advertised with the following eloquent “wallops,” as they call them in film language:

Examination of “A Thief in Paradise” revealed the astonishing fact that it is a film version of Leonard Merrick’s “The Worldlings.” However, the result is just movie.

Speaking of film announcements, we can not resist repeating that of the press agent who exploits a photoplay called “The Mirage,” based upon Edgar Selwyn’s recent drama of that name.

“She couldn’t explain! It was incredible—Al—whom she had loved and trusted—that he should have so little faith. She was angry and hurt. What if Mr. Galt had bought her clothes and given her expensive presents—it was purely a business arrangement that was part of their agreement—but that Al should say such a thing———

“Here is drama—powerful, gripping.”

Until we have an opportunity to see “The Mirage,” Al must remain, withered in his lack of celluloid faith. —