“DOUG.” JUNIOR A COMEDIAN

Evening Star, Issue 21090, 30 April 1932, Page 9

“DOUG.” JUNIOR A COMEDIAN

FAST AND CLEVER FUN AT OCTAGON By visiting a palmist this young man’s outlook on life was completely changed. From someone labouring from daylight till dark under the instructions of a prim and proper mother, he literally bursts his way into the lives of many pretty girls until he met his match in a high-powered limousine, the tyres # of which he purposely burst to bring about their introduction. Then the politics _of another Central American mythical kingdom interfered; so did he, causing the biggest stir the State officials had known, but with the express purpose ofßsmoothing > the path for his matrimonial ambitions.

' Douglas Fairbanks, jun., most amusingly presents the role of this carefree youth of means, Larry O’Brien by name, in what must be recorded as his best picture to date, ‘ I Like Your Nerve,’ and he has plenty of it, as patrons of the Octagon Theatre during the current week will observe when he” becomes mixed up in some most unusual affairs, all for the sake of that old, old thing, love. Plenty of dash and personality would be required of one in any way suitable to play this part, and young Fairbanks certainly possesses the necessary qualifications. A share of the verve and popular appeal of his famous father is to be found in this capable youth, who has previously convinced us in some really solid drama; wo remember him in ‘ Outward Bound.’ It has, however, been left to ‘ I Like Your Nerve ’ to develop his sense of humour and a flair for altogether superior acting. Here he is in a picture that suits him through and through. Loretta Young is the girl responsible for all tho trouble—or should wo say amusement? Without her there would have been no need to show ns iho adventures of Larry O’Brien. It all started, as has been said, with a palmist tolling Larry that ho should ho successful with “the women,” He set out to bo successful, but it took

time. Driving Ids big car through some part of Central America, ho found love at first sight when a charming senoritn drove past. He must bo introduced to her, he told himself, and by putting her car out of commission he established his wish. He drove her home—the home of a Minister of Finance, her father. She told him she was engaged to an elderly but wealthy and she refused to see him again, but he would not stop his car, which he drove away from the mansion, until sho promised to change her mind. He eventually took her home, and burst in on her father, whom he astounded with his amusing method of endeavouring to obtain consent to marry Diane. Larry saw other things in a hurrv, ono ot them being the fact of the regular “popping off” of the Minister’s predecessors—generally on Government audit day. By his blustering into everything that did not concern ” him, Larry accidentally learned that the Minister had overdrawn his pocket money _ from the State hank account. He hit upon an ingenious plan whereby he could make himself popular with the “ old man by assisting him out of his predicament, make the wealthy fiance of Diane pay for keeping Larry and Diane apart so long, and finally makes amends with his sweetheai t. First seen in talkies but a week or two ago, Matheson Lang, that commanding personality of screen and stage is once more in our midst—and as arresting as ever. Ho appears this time as a Chinaman in the Octagon s additional attraction, ‘The Chinese Bungalow.’ Though the character he portrays is one to ho despised, Matheson Lang’s acting cannot fail to be admired. He is one of the old school of actors, and every moment ho is before the audience there might as well be no other person on the screen with him for all the attention that is paid to that other player. ‘ The Chinese Bungalow’ is a queer story ot a Chinese man who became westernised in his mode of living, showed his true, sinister, and sphinx-like rcyengefnl nature when a white man tried to win his wife from him. It holds one spellbound as it develops; the neverending East-West problem is fought from a new angle, hut with the usual con sequence—tragedy.