New-York tribune., 1919-08-17
Settings TO Whose Drama
Stories DO Not Rise

incident, but only with the revealing
Of state of mind. Until the dog
finally wags reviving tail We forget
those mountains in the background.
During all the rest of the picture we
wait rcstlessly, feeling that they at
least must have something to say
Perhaps Stewart Edward White is a
rcalist, come TO remind us that what
we generally find at the foot OF,
mountains is mess of weeds and
old tin cans, to prove that Bret Harte
was only dear liar and the Golden
West a place as mean and dusty and
save for the havoc wrought by an oc-
caslonal bully-as tresomc place as
Sixth Avenue on mid afternoon in
August. Certainly neither of the
Hart Co.'s, Bret nor William, has ever
told US Of this West where the popu
latlon stands sloped up stage like a
chorus and watches man knoc'.
down a child, choke a dog and force
ms daughter into a dance hall by
boating her with horscwhip. they
themselves demonstrating by nothing
more forcible than whispers whicn
seem to say CON- dcar' Indeed. why
should they, since their own habit is
to attack on sight either the younger
or the elderly both admired
friends of theirs-at a rate of about
fifty to one? When it is the elderly
hero the fifty is obliged to intrench
itself and attack from ambush! ooh.
California, oh, my mountains" was it
indeed so? If SO, why 60 West? We
can get gangs in alleys almost any
where
Roy Stewart and Mildred Manning
do what they can to keep their parts
from being simply used as nnepins
by the plot; Frankie Lce-and his dog
are worthy their opportunity. But
1t IS the pictures great misfortune
that its indifference to emotion has
wholly tanned and muffled Wilfrid
Lucas as the plainsman, so that we are
entirely done out of that constructive
imagination for which we are accus-
toned to depend on him. The villain
beng allowed to behave as vigorously
as he likes becomes, of course, the
king of the picture and is played with
Robert McKim's accustomed COM
petence and an even added degree of
picturesque and sinister force.
Spain Gorgeously Pictured
We were so completely routed hv
The Westerners' from the society
which we generally prefer in pictures
That we even ventured for refuge into
the parlor society which pictures
seem to be preferring for themselves.
SO that presently we found ourselves
facing "The Avalanche" which of
course isn't rough, physical ava
lanche but one composed of a ladv's
gambling debts.
Our judgment of "The Avalanche
as picture may be somewhat con-
fused by our having unnecessarily ac
quainted ourselves with Gertrude
Atherton's book of the same title. A
slight similarity in theme and in the
names of one or two of the characters
together with the circumstances of
Mrs. Atherton's name appearing or
the screen as that of the pictures
author, misled us into supposing that
there would be some connection be-
tween the two stories; consequently
we lost time and distracted our at
tentlon in looking for it when we
should have been better employed in
merely looking at the lovely photor-
raphy and at beauty of romantic
setting in which the lights and
shadows played a thrilling drama of
their own, within which the mere per
sons and the mere story were only the
ldlest of accessories a long way after
the fact.
We do not know what lovely and
ominous legend could ever play up 70
that castle in Spain, to those glooms
and glories of old torchlit inns and
convent gardens, of old stone stair.
cases with strange shadows blotting so
fatefully across them that we actually
ask ourselves, "Well, after all, where
and who is Robert Edmond Jones ."
Even alter we leave Spain the American
gambling house provides refuge for
the aesthetic sense which is enough to
make Hugo Ballin faint with envy. IF
there were an international comnati.l /