At The Fine Arts

"Three Women" tells the story of the Communist Revolution in terms of the lives of three girls whose maturation is intertwined with the events of 1914-1919. Their blood-red songs electrify a barroom full of drunks in stirring manner, and later the whole bunch does a through job of massacring some White first-aid workers. There is thus very little of the tender or the suave, but the proletarian vigor is abundant.

At The Paramount and Fenway

"The Connecticut Yankee", joint product of Mark Twain and Will Rogers, flashes again its jolly anachronisms. Myrna Loy and Frank Albertson do the supporting, along with a host of telephones, automobiles, tanks, and machine guns. There is many an occasion for a belly-laugh, but one can't help feeling that the lavish spilling of blood militates a bit against the gaiety. "Forgotten Faces" shows Herbert Marshall, up the river for murder, nevertheless preventing Gertrude Michael, his extremely naughty wife, from blackmailing their daughter, adopted into respectability. There are some telling bits of psychological suggestion along the harrowing, strident way.

At The Metropolitan

"Sons O' Guns," starring Joe E. Brown, shows what fun the Great War really was. It was all just a grand round of Y. M. C. A. entertainments, lovely French girls, and lots of wine, with a little fighting thrown in to keep everyone in trim. Mr. Brown clowns through this inane plot in a pleasant, fairly amusing way, assisted by Joan Blondell. The stage show, headed by M. Tito Guizar, is incredibly poor. It's hard to tell whether Guizar is trying to be Mexican, Spanish or Italian, but it doesn't matter much. The revue is billed as "especially produced for Metropolitan patrons," which just goes to show what the management thinks of its customers.