The New Pictures
Three Loves (Moviegraph) is the ac- count of a well-curved siren who made life obnoxious for three men. When an elderly lover had eliminated her husband, she bewitched a youth who was about to depart on his honeymoon. In the midst of New Year's revels he tried to separate her from her consort, who took the occasion to murder her. Directed and acted with Teutonic power, the picture leaves a lingering impression of the heart's treacheries. If it is widely enough shown in the U. S. its heroine (Marlene Dietrich) may imperil the favor now accorded Greta Garbo.
The Great Gabbo (Sono-Art) As a ventriloquist in silk stockings and a dinner shirt, Erich von Stroheim keeps his round, bristle-covered head unbowed under bludgeonings written for him by Ben Hecht. He is in love with the girl who helps him in his act. Off stage he cannot tell her what he feels -- something makes him abuse her and act mean, but in the act he throws his voice into the dummy and lets it express his love. The imagery giving power to this anecdote was certainly apparent to von Stroheim. He started out to act it stiffly and gloomily, making you feel the knot in the head of the man who could talk in any voice except his own. Director James Cruze, however, seemed convinced that he was directing a story about show business. Before long he neglected the ventriloquist to supply atmosphere in the form of chorus girls dancing, getting dressed, chattering, rehearsing. Best shot: the Great Gabbo going crazy because he cannot be himself.
When Erich von Stroheim first turned up in Hollywood, a polite, conceited fellow in high collars and without hair, he gained attention over other European adventurers looking for a fortune in the movies because he knew something about military etiquette. He had been to a cadet school in Austria, had served in a crack imperial regiment. After advising directors on the proper management of uniforms and parades, he began to act in pictures himself--stared through a monocle, fought duels, smoked the longest cigarets ever photographed kinetically; was billed as "The Man You Love to Hate". Not satisfied, he became a director for Universal. He made some good pictures, but took long to make them, spent huge sums, worked his casts to exhaustion. Last year, after finishing The Wedding March, a dull picture in spite of a budget so huge that the producers did not exploit the figures, he started to direct Gloria Swanson in Queen Kelly. Limited strictly as to time and funds, he was removed when he exceeded his limitations. Now he is a good actor again.
Flight (Columbia). Daredevil marines at the airbase at Pensacola, Fla., and perfect synchronization of dialog and martial sounds make this a very exciting picture. The illusion of reality is strong when the theatre reverberates with roaring airplanes, staccato machine guns. Ralph Graves is a vacillating, blundering flyer who girds up his loins to win Lila Lee. Jack Holt, somewhat aged since his svelte days with the cinema mounted police, is a tough sergeant. Into the picture creeps propaganda about the U. S. |occupation of Nicaragua, especially when the Nicaraguan president is shown talking about U. S. good-Samaritanism. Best shot: The squadron taking off at dawn in pursuit of the Nicaraguan bandit Lobo (Sandino).
The Spy of Madame Pompadour
(Karl Grune). The Germans who picturized this history of intrigue between the courts of Louis XV and mad Tsar Paul invested it with such architecture and haberdashery as even opulent Hollywood has rarely conceived. Liane Haid plays the buxom, duelling girl friend of Pompadour who is sent, dressed as a man, to learn the state secrets of St. Petersburg. Interest focusses on Fritz Kortner's interpretation of the Tsar, for it is the role with which Emil Jannings scored in The Patriot. The malevolence of Kortner's Tsar is never mitigated by the lunatic innocence which Jannings managed to suggest. Both are vivid; you must decide for yourself. Best shots: Tsar Paul fascinated by the first harpsichord he has ever seen, wriggling underneath it. ... Tsar Paul scanning the room with only the whites of his eyes.
Jealousy (Paramount). Louis Verneuil's play was much praised on Broadway last season for technical cleverness --its only characters were the ex-mistress of a boulevardier, her new husband, an all-too-human telephone. Maddened by things he heard over the wire, the husband finally went out to slay the other man. This story has now been made into a sound cinema. The unseen lover appears, but to no advantage. Jeanne Eagels as the wife employs a ridiculous English accent, the action is turgid, the photo-graphs dull. Silliest shot: Frederic March taking time out to suppress his justifiable jealousy.