From the nightmares of dyspeptic children, from the dreams of opiumeators. from medieval lore of the world comes the conception of monsters with which men cannot cope, from which they cannot escape. Science made banal and dreary these dreams, the cinema transforms them with its touchstone of cheapness, and no one can longer cower awed and terrified before apparitions. Kong, the magnificent ape-colossus, the monarch of a surviving world of dinosauri, stands alone.
Of Miss Kay Fwancis, of her melancholy moping and her distorted R's, one can only say that she is not worth listening to. Truly, the grand style of acting which strove for depth of emotion and purity of diction is gone forever. In its place is the Ibsenesque problem drama forty years late; this treats of the momentous question of what a woman should do when she does not love her husband, is being blackmailed by man, and wishes to daily with a lover. This pleases the public.
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