It's rather hard to understand just how Frank Borzage could have been persuaded to direct a picture like "Living on Velvet." Mr. Borzage in previous efforts has shown a directorial intelligence and maturity which manifests itself but rarely in this smart set drama from the First National lot. Aside from this little puzzle there is nothing particularly noteworthy about "Living on Velvet." The story stands on the shakiest sort of familiar actions--wealthy young man addicted to aviation cracks up with his father, mother, and sister, all of whom are killed. The accident upsets him terrifically and his mental state gets somewhat non compos. Noble friend in need sticks by him and helps him with the lady who is very much concerned and makes constant effort to save young man from himself--a task of questionable value. Mental trouble finally disappears and the audience departs in satisfaction if not extreme pleasure. George Brent quite bad as the sal young man, Kay Francis attractive as young lady. Warren William quietly capable as trusty Samaritan. The photography ample, but not extraordinary. The humor weak, except where unintentional. For Hollywood's enlightenment--there are no great mountain ranges on Long Island, unless the administration has been exceedingly active since we were there this Christmas.

The stage show this week is decidedly the brighter half of the offerings. Kitty Carlisle who has stepped gracefully from New Orleans to front line chorus to Hollywood and the arms of Bing Crosby sings in manner attractive. Phil Cook hasn't changed in all these years. There is also a bicycle stunt of considerable skill.