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Funnyman Rogers's confessed formula for accomplishing his imitation was merely to "act natural." On one occasion he does his natural acting clad completely in a nightgown and a waterproof coat; in which garb he runs about the U. S. capital and then makes a speech in a replica of the House of Representatives. The story which explains his presence in this place has to do with the social ambitions foisted on him by his wife (admirably played by Louise Fazenda) and with a juvenile romance of which the principals are Douglas Fairbanks Jr., and Lilyan Tashman.
The Dove. Noah Beery, as a badman with a long name, very nearly works his will upon Dolores, a cabaret singer, beautiful but pure. Efforts to curtail the accomplishment of his nasty schemes are supplied by youthful Johnny Powell, an American who, by the merest chance, is running a gambling casino in the same obscure corner of the country. The success of Johnny Powell's combat to make Costa Roja (by which name the country is called, so as not to irritate Mexican film followers) safe for the virginity of Dolores is achieved in highly original and satisfactory fashion. Instead of beating the bandit to a pulp, the usual procedure in such extremes, Johnny Powell is himself captured and stood up in front of a firing squad. At this juncture a speech from Dolores convinces "the best damn caballero in all Costa Roja" that his methods are all wrong. With an expansive gesture, for no reason except his own desire to be magnificent even at the cost of a lot of fun, the caballero calls off his gunmen and allows Dolores and Johnny Powell to ride away in a carriage. Then, as he watches them driving off, he remarks with pleasure: "Dios, what a man I am!"
Plot, photography, direction and the performances of Noah Beery and Norma Talmadge, (Dolores) make the picture about three notches better than the run of hot country idylls.
Cinemactress Talmadge, in all her many and variegated roles, has never failed, nor does she now, to surround herself with good clothes and scenery. Cinemactor Beery is probably the most attractively disagreeable individual in the artistic branch of the cinema industry. As a cinema, The Dove is even more effective than it was on the Manhattan stage, (TIME, Feb. 23, 1925), as written by Willard Mack, as produced by famed David Belasco.
Jeanne Dore was made in 1914, in the days when Actress Sarah Bernhardt was already an old legend in the French theatre and in the days, also, when moving pictures were so appallingly inept that their subsequent development, incomplete as it may yet be, seems a miracle. In Jeanne Dore, even the charm of the most famed French actress appears to be no more than the mournful mouthing and gesticulation of an extra lady undergoing a screen test for the role of Hamlet's mother. The plot makes Mme. Bernhardt the parent of a wild young man who kills his uncle because he loves a bad woman. The picture, when it is resuscitated again to show future generations what a great actress looked like, will produce a tragic misimpression quite removed from its present merit as burlesque.