The New Pictures

The Love Piker. We don't know quite which is more tiresome-- watching one of the 57 Hollywood varieties of "daughters'' go straight to the Nether Octopus of Shame, via the bathing-revel and flask-party route or seeing one of them won away from rouge, the Ritz and high-hattiness in general by kittens, tame canaries, rural atmosphere and the sight of a pair of baby-rompers. But The Love Piker temporarily swings the weight of ennui in the latter direction. Hope Warner (Anita Stewart) was a frightful snob. She broke the speed laws, owned a Pekinese, and when rescued by the stalwart Martin Van Huisch first from the hoosegow and then from a rafter stories up in the air, where she had wandered in search oi her runaway Peke, almost decided to jilt the strong, silent Martin because his father ate sauerkraut and split his infinitives. So far we were for young Hope-- strong, silent yokels being our pet abhorrence and the homelife of the Van Huisches as displayed on the screen something that needed a muzzle rather than a daughter-in-law. But she weakened --darn it--and everything came out just splendid for Virtue and Simplicity.

Nobody's Darling. A Baby Peggy picture--in which, as usual, the six-year-old star gives us furiously to wonder as to whether the best thing in the world for the future of the movies would not be to eliminate practically all movie actors and actresses over the age of ten. A delightful, natural and interesting film, that could teach some of Baby Peggy's older associates a good deal more about acting than they would be ever willing to admit.

A Gentleman of Leisure. The diamonds are stolen again--no, beg pardon, its pearls, this time--three strings of them--one genuine and two artificial. An incredible burglar says " demm" and " dese" and " dey " on the slightest provocation. Fashionable life at Bayshore is full of butlers. Sigrid Holmquist is very pretty. Jack Holt has a nice mustache. A villain is known by his white, white spats, etc. Which may sound incoherent, but is as faithful a report as possible of as chaotic a cinema inanity as has flickered out the storehouse for some time.

The Bill Poster. An amazing one-reel Hal Roach comedy, guaranteed to take the taste of almost any super-super-super-feature out of one's mind without pain.