Critical Moments

When Warwick Deeping’s novel, “Sorrell and Son,” was first published in this country, Mr. Knopf, who issued it, had a difficult time convincing Americans they should read it. As a matter of fact he changed the dust jacket five distinct times before it caught on, but when it once began to sell, the press worked overtime turning out copies of this sentimental story of a self-sacrificing father and his grateful son. Now the Dominions Film Company of England has made a picture of this story and it had its American premiere at the Mayfair Theatre. It should be very popular.

Some years ago a silent film was made from the book and the present version differs very little from that picture. Again the story of the genteel but impoverished widower and ex-army officer, left with a young son, is told. How he kept his integrity by the most menial kind of work, supporting his son, bringing him up in the best English tradition and finally how the son, grown to be a successful surgeon, gives his father, who is now a victim of cancer, an overdose of drugs so that he may be released from the torture of the disease, is all sympathetically and faithfully recounted.

SENTIMENTAL BUT MOVING

“Sorrell and Son” is sentimental but the English company that directed this picture and the skilled actors who played it exhibit a restraint that saves the film from becoming maudlin. It is a moving and entirely enjoyable piece of work. Those of you who like a good cry will go for this eagerly. The cast, headed by H. B. Warner, who also played in the silent version, is excellent. Hugh Williams, Winifred Shotter and Peter Penrose are to be especially commended for their work.

POOR MR. WAKEFIELD

Strange things happen to Oliver Wakefield, one of the comedians in the current issue of the Ziegfeld Follies. Some weeks ago I received and printed a story about this same English “gent,” in which was set forth his sorry experiences as the receptacle for eggs thrown during each performance. Now I am regaled with the following:

“Oliver Wakefield, comedian, is cast in one of the sketches as a haughty Englishman, tall, dark, slim and very smooth. But unfortunately the script for the sketch calls for a huge glass of beer to be consumed nightly and twice on Thursdays and Saturdays by our dashing Wakefield.

“As a consequence Wakefield has gained ten pounds during the run of the Follies. He is that susceptible to beer. And apparently he will continue to gain proportionately. There is no way out of it for Wakefield. He must drink and grow fat, must act and grow fat. But if he keeps on getting fatter he will not be ‘right’ for the part. Wakefield poses this case as a dilemma in the true sense of the word. The authors of the sketch refuse to delete the direction calling for a stein of beer. The stage business gets too good a laugh. Pending the litigation Wakefield is still drinking his beer.”

VICTOR HERBERT STUDIED MEDICINE

Victor Herbert, the tenth anniversary of whose death was commemorated recently, almost became a physician, according to his son, Clifford Herbert. The younger Herbert is quoted as saying:

“Few people know, and fewer people remember, that my father at one time took up the study of medicine with the intention of becoming a physician and that he regarded music as nothing but a diversion. He always thought that if he continued this he would make a successful doctor.

“But fate intervened. The death of his grandfather and his father obliged him to supplement the family fortunes by playing the ‘cello in an orchestra. His grandfather, by the way, was Samuel Lover, the old Irish novelist.”

Of all his works Victor Herbert liked “Algeria” best. Quite frequently he would play through the score for his own amusement, chuckling in appreciation of some of the subtle passages, his son said.