Judge — August 15, 1925 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

a) > “Oh, darn! “The thing to they’re going to do, honey, is to get the world all find what your reformed and I style is and then won’t have any- stick to it. I’m thing to do when the Cleopatra I’m __ through type, myself! college.” —Came the Dawn (Continued from page 21) a sigh upon the many movie sea- sons that have come and gone their inevitable way and think that I shall never be able to live this one over again. So thinking I reverently face the East as the Muezzins in the minarets of Hollywood herald the dawn, and kneeling upon my prayer rug, indulge in a salaam of fanatic proportions and murmur, “Allah be praised!” It is the darkest before dawn, they say, and in this inky blackness but one faint light shines out, that of Percy Marmont in “The Street of Forgotten Men.” Below the win- ning bewilderment of Mr. Marmont’s countenance, in repose, and the in- gratiating quality of his slightly rampant smile there seems to lie a talent for acting that even the screen has not succeeded in hiding under its bushel of sub-titles. “The Street of Forgotten Men” is to a certain extent a de-hokumized “Miracle Man.” It starts in the old days of-the Bowery, when every- thing was wide open and men didn’t have to drink out of teacups, and relates the life of a soft-hearted but successful beggar, “Easy Money Charlie,” the wonder of all the spurious mendicants that made their headquarters at Diamond Mike’s Dead House. The story works it- The Female of the Species awe | Jy Ww ole “TU lay off “Here's the “Fired again! chocolate creams thing that wor- Gosh, that’s the when I find ries me. I never worst of having \ them spoiling can decide which this here femi- | my figure. Take to develop—my nine charm you "em or leave ’’em, brains or my hear 80 much | that’s me.” beauty.” about.” self to an, at least partially, uncine- matic conclusion that was a sight for these sore eyes. The advent of this second beg- garly revelation was a lucky break forme. The effects of “The Miracle Man” on my philanthropic ten- dencies had begun to wear off. I was casting pennies left and right “Don’t breathe a word, Casper—but I think Lord Percy is horribly fastidi- ous.” ° “You said it, Dalmatia. He even insists upon being measured for his coat-of-arms.” F 2 o_ ASN L We to all who cried “Gimme!” Now, I think, I am again immune from the most appealing attacks on pity for at least three years. “Rugged Water” with Lois (Bright Eyes) Wilson, Phyllis Haver, Noah Beery and Warner Baxter is just a “good old western” gone “down east” in ships. The idea of making the hero Number One Man in a life- saving crew is a new one, but the rest of the plot is as true to form as a bathing beauty. Instead of fighting for the love of the “gal” and riding range for The Cross-Bar Alphabet Ranch, the hero steers a dory for the “gurrul” and the honor of the U. S. L. S. S., which translated means, United States Life Saving Service, Inc. Father Neptune does some interesting work in a turbulent réle. And—here’s a good one— there was a sailor on shore leave sitting in front of me. Doubtless he went rowing in Central Park later. I have, finally, after millions of questions as to whether I liked her or not, seen Norma Shearer. The answer is I do! But I like her best with her hair slicked smoothly back off her ears, the brazen hussy. This way she is lovely to look upon. Otherwise, she seems to be a fairly capable young woman who acts for the moving pictures, in this particular case, “A Slave of Fashion” (probably to be changed later to “A Slave of Passion”), which would be equally — comicbooks.com