“SEVENTH HEAVEN”

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 269, 3 February 1928, Page 15

“SEVENTH HEAVEN”

A PICTURE OF THE YEAR

STRAND’S GREAT PICTURE “I, too, am a remarkable fellow!” The tables were turned when Diane, the former Parisian gamin, accepted Chico's characteristic remark us her own, and rallied Ills courage. Both Diane ttnd Chico, who made their debut before Aucklanders last night at the Strand Theatre, were “very remarkable fellows.” “Seventh I Heaven,” the now Fox production in which they star, is, too, a very remarkable film.

The Strand management is evidently holding, a hand of trumps. “BenHur” was an excellent draw with which to reopen this theatre as a “feature house.” “Seventh Heaven" assuredly is another. If the simple love story of the little street waif to whom the attic aboveseven flights of stairs was heaven, and her handsome sewer-cleaner lover, had been left to stand alone; “Seventh Heaven” would have been one of the modern masterpieces of the screen. Two-thirds of the picture is practically flawless. It is a production of great beauty, though so essentially sentimental in appeal.

The insatiable American demand tor “action,” however, intervened, and a new Diane and a new Chico, as well as a war-crazy world, were thrust upon us. We much preferred the lovers in their nest among the chim-ney-pots. Though Chico worked underground, he said, he liked. to live near the stars. Incidentally, because he ever looked up, Chico was one of the few fortunate mortals who received a little star dust. But then, did not Chico himself say that he was a very remarkable fellow? Charles Farrell’s characterisation of the soft-hearted, domineering, yet essentially human and manly French lad, is one of the few really notable characterisations of recent times. He reaches an artistic plane seldom achieved by an actor of his years. At all times natural and easy in his work, from the moment he appeared on the screen Chico gripped, and held, the imagination of his audience. Not for many a long day do we recall a finer interpretation, especially on the part of so youthful an qrtist. Janet Gay nor was the wistful-eyed little maid, who was so cruelly beaten and tormented oy her frail and evillydisposed sister, played, incidentally, by no other than Gladys Brockwell, veteran actress of the shadowshow. No more pathetic figure than the diminutive Diane could possibly be imagined. Janet Gaynor more than substantiated former good impressions of her art. The combination with Charles Farrell was excellent throughout. It was no wonder that the halfstarved Diane, on the verge of suicide, and with her faith in le bon Dieu almost gone, exchanged the misery of her “home” for what is tantamount in these modern days to a “companionate marriage” with Chico, that cheerful atheist. But she was only to remain there until the police came, for Chico, in order to save her, had protested that she was his wife. . . . But somehow, almost before the philosophical young scavenger, with his eyes on the stars, had realised the fact —he was now promoted to the full dignity of a street cleaner with headquarters on the earth and not under it—Diane had become indispensable to him. Her dainty little fingers had entwined themselves around his heart. “Seventh Heaven” should be seen by all genuinely interested in the art of the screen. Undoubtedly, it -will be one of the pictures of the year. With judicious clipping it could quite easily be one of the productions of the decade.

Miss Phyllis Hazel and Mr. Birr ell O’Malley were the soloists for the prologue, which depicted the view over Paris from Chico’s retreat among the housetops. In view, however, of the length of the prologue, which immediately followed the prchestral offering, Eve Bentley and her orchestra took rather too much time over their “Mignon” selections. An interesting topical completed the Strand’s change of bilk ■ -