THE SCREEN
Date: 26 March 1924
It is not to be wondered at that Thomas Burke and other authors have voiced their antipathy to the screen when one beholds some of the Hollywood conceptions of London. We approached the task of viewing "The Dawn of a Tomorrow" with cheer and hope, but before the picturized version of Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett's charming story had been on the screen fifteen minutes we were sunk in an abyss of disappointment. A director and a scenario writer can be pardoned—perhaps sympathized with—for having to work upon a poor story, but when they turn out a regular standardized type of movie from an inspiring story, it is the audience to whom symapthy must be extended.This picture might make a moderate entertainment for small towns. But to those who have read the story, those who know London's squalid districts and realize the rich possibilities the director, George Melford, had, it is something at which to shake one's head.Mr. Melford, or some of his friends, ought to know that London public houses do not have short swinging doors. The scenes in which these are shown look as if they bad been taken on the Bowery in the olden days, with a couple of English policemen thrown in to make it look different.The narrative tells of a girl called Glad who sets an example of cheer in the dismal precincts of Apple Blossom Alley. During one stretch of this picture she is supposed to have been without food for twenty-four hours, and judging from her precarious method of living, never really had enough to eat. Yet we are shown the well-nourished Jacqueline Logon in this rôle. She may not be called plump, but at no period of the picture does she appear recently to have abstained from breakfast, luncheon or dinner.The settings of the murky thoroughfare are very stagey, and the acting of the principals never helps the atmosphere. Miss Logan does not seize the great opportunity she had in this part. Instead of the convivial, saucy creature, she delivers an impersonation of a cheeky pretty girl, without a whit of sympathy. When Arthur Holt is introduced he wears clothes such as never would be seen on even an English bounder.Somebody in Hollywood must have known some Anglicisms, for in the subtitles the people in serious conversations persist in saying "Old dear" and "Old thing," which would never be employed in the circumstances.What makes this pictorial effort even sadder than it might be is the clog-dancing gyrations of Raymond Griffith, who simply "can't make his feet behave."Fancy three crooks who are going to rob a house making a plan of it under a street lamp, and having their architectural efforts interrupted by a policeman! Griffith, who impersonates The Dandy, throws the "Bobby" off the scent by springing from square to square as if he were playing a girl's game of hopscotch.Arthur Holt invades Apple Blossom Alley to make the destitute folk pay their rents. He pulls out a cigarette case as if he had just bought it and plucks forth a smoke. His first words to Glad are "You dance like a sprite."Glad appears to be eager to talk to the young man, and yet later when she goes to his home she is terribly shocked when he tries to steal a kiss or two.The fine house of Sir Oliver Holt, the old gentleman suffering from amnesia, appears to have an extremely tempting set of windows for burglars, with small but plain glass panes in the windows. Griffith as The Dandy is supposed to develop some sympathy, but he doesn't. You find yourself voting for the other crooks.Sir Oliver when first seen looks like a poor clerk with the sleeves of his overcoat several inches too short, but when they want him to make a good appearance on the screen he wears a handsome fur coat. Glad seems to find a place where she can buy a Fifth Avenue frock in Whitechapel in less time than it takes to think about it, and the policemen, while their uniforms might pass, are so obviously conscious of them that they strut about as if they were in suits of blue armor.Sir Oliver, played by David Torrence, is the most plausible character in this picture, but he appears to spend no end of time wandering about Apple Blossom Alley, first buying a revolver, then ridding himself of it, and handing out sovereigns and bank notes.There is a fight. No such adaptation of a story could fail to have the orthodox movie tussle. The Dandy hammers Arthur Holt with deadly precision time and time again, but without much effect until Mr. Melford evidently instructed him to be good enough to fall down "unconscious."If you have not been to London, if you don't care much about the plausibility of a story and never read or saw Mrs. Burnett's novel or stage play, this film might be mildly entertaining except when young Mr. Griffith is afflicted with nervousness of the feet.