"Mata Hari," which was reviewed in the CRIMSON on January 7, is now the major attraction at the University Theatre. It has the double disadvantage of being a story enshrouded in legend of which everyone knows something, and of following the similar movie, 'Dishonored." Without Greta Garbo as the famous dancer in the espionage service of the Central Powers, the movie would be utterly unsuccessful, so weak is the plot.

The story gets under way with Greta doing a Javanese dance very badly before an Oriental God who seems not to mind. In the audience is the somewhat greasy Ramon Novarro, who, in his Russian uniform, looks like a well-trained barber's assistant at any conceivable Ritz. He falls in love instantly with the glamorous danseurse, which she undeniably is, and spends the night with her. Finding it expedient to obtain some dispatches in his possession, she goes to him on the second night, gets the papers, but loses her heart to him, although how she can is inconceivable. Then follows a great deal of melodrama, little of which is convincing. Her lover meets with an accident which leaves him blind. When she goes to see him in a hospital, she is arrested. In the final scene she marches out in a sweeping black robe in the center of the firing squad leaving her unwitting fiance behind; an ending that is perhaps tactful since myth has it that Mata Hari tore off her clothes, a diplomatic habit of her's, at the last moment.

Regardless of the story "Mata Hari" has a great deal of brilliance and glamour that is not unpleasant. Greta Garbo is always fascinating whether she plays the soiled women of Eugene O'Neil's invention, or the most successful of feminine spies. The movie is worth going to, if only to see her.

"Peach O' Reno," the accompaning comedy, is both weak and fatuous. A supposed satire on the mecca of American married life, it combines some good humor with as bad slap-stick comedy as Hollywood is capable of producing. The stupidity of most of the jokes is inexcusable, but nevertheless the audience laughs.