Judge — February 25, 1922 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

As Bertram Hartman sees “Saturday Night” at the Rivoli Theater. Blue Blood Is Thicker ECIL DE MILLE has designed his new motion picture, “Satur- day Night,” for young million- aires and_laundresses. He thinks they should never marry. Of course, Madame Sans Gene got away with it well enough, but that was an excep- tion. However, until Mr. De Mille called a halt there was no lack of such alliances in the motion pictures. In- deed, the most conventional of ter- minations was to have the little girl from the factory grasp her millionaire firmly with both hands and step into the limousine to whirl away to marriage and everlasting wealth and happiness. Second thoughts have come to dis- turb De Mille. He has remorse. The thought has struck him that a deep and abiding passion might not be enough. After all, the young person snatched away from trade might not know which fork to use for the fish. Mr. De Mille fears that kind hearts may be somewhat less than table man- ners. In order to round out his theme he has managed to have an heiress marry a chauffeur, and has then ar ranged that the results shall prove it inexpedient for any miss of high degree to stoop to conquer. The picture which has come out of all these devices is amusing, but not always as the producers have intended. Whatever the faults of the films, they have pretty generally preached an ex- ceedingly generous social democracy. Captains of industry have been intro- duced into pictures again and again for no other purpose than to afford the low comedian somebody whom he may kick with comfort. Dowagers were once invariably assigned to per- micious activities such as the separa- tion of loving hearts. Mr. De Mille has turned traitor to all the long line of movie romances. He would have us believe that the dowagers knew what they were about. CONSIDER the tragic fate of poor Iris van Suydam, who came from one of the most exclusive homes in the city; and, after marrying Mac- Guire, her chauffeur, was forced to live in an apartment close to the ele- By Heywoop Broun vated railroad. Indeed, the trains ran past her window without the slightest deferential pause, and annoyed her mightily. Everything went wrong in both households. The little laundress shocked society by getting tight at a party. Nothing like that had ever been heard of before in the lofty set to which she was introduced by mar- riage. Iris was just as inefficient in her own environment because she could not cook in a manner befitting a Mrs. MacGuire. She was not able even to keep her kitchen exclusive. But the point, seemingly, upon which high and low society divides concerns the business of bathing. The rich, we learn from “Saturday Night,” are ex- cessively conscientious. Whenever there came a lull in the conversation at the home of Mrs. MacGuire (née van Suydam) she had a habit of sug- gesting that somebody or other (gen- erally her husband) should take a nice hot bath. She was forever drawing one, and seemed unable to keep her hands off the faucets. MacGuire did not like it, and, whatever the intent of the author, we must admit that our sympathies were swung strongly in favor of the proletariat and against the aristocrats. Personal liberty ought to be more than a name. Of course, MacGuire had certain powerful in- terests of law and order upon his side. We never believed for a moment that he would take the nice hot bath, be- cause we knew that the censors would not let him. T made bad feeling. The little laundress ran into much the same difficulties in the circles of the elect. If she married to get away from the tubs her mistake must soon have be- come evident to her, for she was called upon to do more washing than she had ever before known during her life. Next to hot baths, the most difficult subject for reconciliation between the classes appeared to be cigarettes. The lady who married the chauffeur found that the practice was frowned upon while the young miss from the laundry was shocked to see her new female friends puffing avidly In regard to this test which De Mille has set up, we have our doubts. Smoking no longer seems to be in any respect the particular province of the wealthy. We know a stenographer who blows better rings than we have ever seen, and we will back her proficiency any day against any Astorbilt who may choose to challenge her. But if smoke serves to split the characters of “Saturday Night” asunder it is fire which brings them together. All four of the principal characters are trapped in the MacGuire apartment by a blaze. The chauffeur and the aristocrat are ungallant enough to unite in saving the little laundress, and poor Iris van Suydam is left alone in the burning building. For the first time since her marriage her position may be said to be exclusive. But blood will tell. The young aristocrat manages to fight his way back to Iris through the flames. There follows one of the most touching incidents in the play. Miss van Suydam stands calmly amid the conflagration and exclaims: “It’s always kind to kind.” Kipling, with his Judy O'Grady and the Colo- nel’s lady, is refuted. It was necessary to burn down the entire building to prove that a van Suydam is always—a van Suydam. Perhaps it was worth proving. Iris and her gentleman friend escaped in time, and Mr. De Mille immediately sets about reassorting his sadly-mixed couples. Divorce is not mentioned, but after seven years have elapsed we find that the chauffeur and the little laundress have three children, while Iris and the aristocrat are just about to announce their intention to marry. Haste, you see is among the things which are vulgar PRETTY MEAN “Pretty mean. Got a gallon of home brew.” “Offer you anything?” “Offered me a recipe.” AIMING HIGH “I hope to recover at damages.” “Better sue for $25,000, then.” least $200