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The trustful soul who is in the habit of drawing to three card flushes and who likes to drag them blind will probably feel the urge to accept the Metropolitan's latest publicity stunt invitation to "Take a Chance" this week. At least there is no harm in trying for those who are always lucky and not over particular. The element of suspense is worth the price of admission. The management generously took us on the inside, after we had patiently seen out the mystery, and as it stands your best friend won't tell you. After all God doesn't send the weekly tickets.
We can not help thinking after duly empting fate that perhaps the management made a wise move when it introduced the unknown into the equation. The main attraction, while not a total loss, is decidedly not a howling success. It is not taken from a widely known book or from a spectacular stage production, and the players, though well known, are not stars of the greatest magnitude. This is distinctly bad from the advertising point of view. The publicity manager being a man of some circumspection probably thought so too Hence the little experiment as to the exact truth contained in Barnum's casual observation.
Recently a well known American author published a book concerning the process of justice in New York City. To lapse again into the vernacular he took Blindfolded Justice for something of a ride. The feature film at the Metropolitan this week is adapted from this very good book and made into a very much worse movie. In fact the above mentioned author must have experienced much the same loss of faith as the chicken which hatched a duck egg, when he first beheld his motion picture child. In short the picture is just another of those periodic and unpleasantly intimate glimpses of crime, courtrooms and cops. A totally likable, but thoroughgoing scoundrel in the book is made into an unconscious crook in the screen version. The crowning movie touch, however, was a lurking dictaphone which displayed an amazing faculty for listening in on, and recording various bits of love making incriminating evidence.
The acting, to dwell on a more pleasant subject, is entirely good. Those who saw some genius in the great hulking, tobacco chewing mule skinner of the "Covered Wagon," and later the king of the underworld in the "Hunchback of Notre Dame," will let his presence in the cast alone for a be the multitude of sins. If you have never seem him shaved and in the conventional after 6 o'clock dinner jacket it would be almost worth the chance to look. Then there is a hero who first gained fame because of a powerful jaw which looks well under a sombrero. He is the young lawyer striving to prevent injustice, and is homely enough to satisfy the male element in the audience.
The heroine will bear even more enthusing. She flashed into the movie public's eye not long ago when she showed more--more talent that is--than did the American Venus in the "American Venus." An adequately fleshed gentleman who was seated at our right, and who proclaimed himself no mean judge of feminine pulchritude, asserted more-over that she has "it," and we could see no good reason for disagreeing with him on that count. The concensus of masculine opinion, which after all is the only worth while opinion in these matters and which was garnered during our progress from the theatre, was that she is extremely good to look upon, effective in the clinches, but a little weak on the tender scenes.
Without completely violating sacred confidences, we might say that the pictures of Commander Byrd and the Norge taking off for their Polar flights are more than worth while. Another little hint for those who refuse to eat hash in restaurants, is that all persons who delight in humming accompaniments to the orchestral numbers are given an opportunity to express their musical talent legally en masse. The result is something of a revelation. But you can't have everything, especially when you take a chance. A gentleman named S. Brodie set the style some years ago and got out with two broken legs.
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