It is a long time since I have seen such a fine production as that of “Les Miserables,” now being given in the Rivoli Theatre. In my early youth I was greatly impressed by reading Victor Hugo’s book, upon which this production is based. The exact impression was conveyed to me at the Rivoli the other night when I saw the picturization of the book.
It is an excellent production, true both in spirit and content to the idea which Victor Hugo wished to convey. There are many people who, I know, are not interested in movies. They will, however, be extremely interested in this particular production, which from a literary and artistic viewpoint leaves nothing to be desired.
Frederic March who plays the role of Jean Valjean, is extremely convincing. His portrayal of Jean Valjean is so human that it keeps the audience absorbed from beginning to end. Charles Laughton, who plays the police inspector, Javert, is so excellent that despite the fact that his role is not a sympathetic one, he nevertheless succeeds in winning the admiration of the audience for his acting alone. Every move is performed with such fine understanding that the spectator would wish to see him again and again in the role. One can see that the actor made a deep study of his character before portraying him.
To an intelligent person the production of “Les Miserables” spells an evening of pleasure. If Victor Hugo were alive he would certainly not want to see his book better picturized.
United Artists deserve great praise for releasing “Les Miserables,” and Darryl Zanuck for producing it. I saw Victor Hugo’s book reproduced in the silent movies several years ago, but what a difference! The present production surpasses anything I have seen thus far on the screen, including productions in which Charles Laughton, the great English actor, has been previously starred.
B. S.
The story of three Broadway racetrack habitues in search of a tipster—and the successful end of their quest—is the story of “Three Men on a Horse,” the comedy that has been uproariously amusing audiences at the Playhouse.
Erwin Trowbridge, the unwitting tipster, is a greeting card verse writer whose great fear is losing his $40-a-week job, and whose pet aversion is his officious brother-in-law. His hobby, as he rides on a bus to and from the office, is doping out the winners. On paper when discovered, he had won $14,000 on $2 bets in three months.
Through a devious chain of circumstances Erwin falls into the hands of Charlie, Frankie and Patsy who make ends meet by betting on horses and who at the time of the meeting are not doing so well. Patsy, the leader of the trio, takes his new find “Oiwin” in hand, nurses him like a brother, actually gives him a ten per cent cut of the winnings, but fails completely to understand the nature of his new find. He believes he is a genius, what with his continual bursts of Mother’s Day greetings and his unerring ability to pick horses, but being completely unacquainted with the species, he is at a loss with him.
The three men and Patsy’s girl, Mabel, who thinks Erwin’s verses are “swell,” do not believe Erwin’s story of picking horses as a hobby, noting down the results in his book, and never betting, all just for fun. In fact, by insisting on his betting to prove that he wasn’t double-crossing them, they killed the goose that laid the golden egg. “Oiwin’s” flair was over; actually, betting had stifled it.
The two leads, Erwin and Patsy, were well chosen. Both can act and act well, and each is a splendid foil for the other. William Lynn as Erwin is a very short, unprepossessing, and his guile is beautifully contrasted by the tall, dark and handsome and utterly Broadway Sam Levene. Lynn plays his part throughout consistently but Levene at times seems to work the “thoity-thoid” street accent a little heavily.
Teddy Hart and Millard Mitchell, the other two men of the three in the title, were all their parts demanded, and the rest of the cast contributed to a well rounded and thoroughly enjoyable comedy.
Boris Aronson did an excellent job on the settings. The little house of brother Clarence’s is typical of a million suburbs, and the sordid-ness of that awful room in the Hotel Lavillere is nothing short of genius.
B. F.
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The Archive of the Jewish Telegraphic Agency includes articles published from 1923 to 2008. Archive stories reflect the journalistic standards and practices of the time they were published.
