New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1919-06-01
Maurice IOzl1neuv's
Empty Throne

stone Here, the night we were at the
Rialto, the audience cried out. And
we'll it might! Not an eloquence of
moor or rock, of sun, darkness. super
sutton or the speed of the small
strong figure, of litteness and wi]ling
ness against immensely and doom.
which has not played it's part and
played it straight home, but humanity.
when 1t comes near enough for ia to
see Its face, is allowed no part more
intimate than chorus. Scenes indeed,
go forward in which the crowd gath
ers, the mother wccps, the father his
paternity declared, hangs his head, but
with no more significance or passion
than in the foregoing phrases; they 20
forward in capable, businesslke
manner, without slight or hurry, but
without insight or dramatic handling,
every one merely displaying an excel
lent assortment of the best conven-
tional expressions; they go forward
merely to get somewhere else-some-
where worth while!
This proves to be a journey, richly
Ia Rembrandt, through the London
underworld by night. A lame young
countryman who loves the heroine
seeks the man who knows the where
abouts Of her marriage certificate; we
do not give fig for the certificate, but
each encounter with the omnous and
bri1
spects is itself an adventure, for if
Tourneur is careless as to acting he is
passionately careful about types-per-
haps that is why he selected Jack Gill
bert for this pale, dark, intensely
searching boy. So it wouldn't be quite
fair to say that Mr.. Gilbert put the
acting part of the picture in his pocket
and walked off with it; he has, at any
rate, so much the most telling bits to
do, and owns personality so vitality
necessary to melodrama, that it can
do no less than abandon itself to him
a once
At last we follow that tangle- foot
certificate to the bottom of the sea.
There the villain and the hero-thc
third lover-battle for it on the oceans
floor. Why do divers always look like
demons: And all purposes carried
below the level appear nefarious pur-
poses? Of the evil sea monsters which
was which we scarcely cared, but the
struggle held us shiverng; old OCEAN
whether or not inside a tank ?-the
darting fish, the cropping, swaying
figures pushing against the water, the
wreck, the old chest that holds the GER
tifcate, from all these "the incom-
municable tkgill Of things" was for
once richly communicated; the ends of
our nerves tingled. And why was the
silence, hushed, hushing, terrifying, so
immensely convincing in world where
everything, of course. is silent? We
were too absorbed at the time to notice
whether they had turned off the or
chestra. We do not see what could be
better done than this strange business.
Imagine man with such a spirit for
romantic pictures satisfying it with
stories where "the heroine's purely
legal difficulties' do not quicken
pulse beat! A month ago we should
have said that he chose them because
they offered him opportunities for his
special-and certainly invaluable-turn
OF mind; that he could not seek these
opportunities in stories of equally
picturesque setting, but infinitely more
original and vitalized, and as ready as
Prunella to display the most striking
acting, stories like "The Master of
Rallantrae," because they would be
over the publics head. But that was
month ago. Since then the success
Of Broken Blossoms" has changed
everything. Nothing Is too good for
the screen now. We await Tourneur's
next picture with really inhamed ex-
element
Meanwhile, "White Heather" is
stunning entertainment for any pleas
ure seeker, and the person who pre-
tends to be interested in the develop
ment of pictures and doesn't take him
self to see this one pretends what is
not.