AMUSEMENTS, MEETINGS, ETC.

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXII, Issue 19325, 2 June 1925, Page 2

AMUSEMENTS, MEETINGS, ETC.

THE GRAND “SUNDOWN” A SPLENDID ATTRACTION Last night the Grand Theatre was the scene of the unfolding of a great human document. The Grand audience witnessed the initial showing of “Sundown,” the First National production; a poetic and dramatic rhapsody of the passing of the old West, done in the best manner of Hollywood. “Sundown”—so aptly titled—is unforgettable. Aside from its breath-taking spectacles of vast herds of surging cattle stretching beyond the horizon, it touches a tender period of America’s national history. In terms of heartaches and smiles, suffering and courage, “Sundown” transcribes to the celluloid a monument to the knights of the West—the fast-vanishing cattlemen —pioneers who blazed a glorious trail of civilisation. It is difficult to say exactly what particular feature, of “Sundown” stands out. The photography is easily far superior to any so-called “Western” we have ever seen. Each sequence is a perfect composition, planned and etched by an artist’s vision. Magnificent panoramas show a great stream of moving cattle lying across the plains like a huge endless serpent. Especially daring is tho stampedo which seems to thunder by the camera lens in a great cloud of dust. We have never witnessed anything more realistic than this, and we can readily believe the advance reports which stated that tho stampede actually assumed alarming proportions. The choicest locations of six States furnish “Sundown” with its grandest vistas. Jagged mountains, verdant valleys, sun-baked deserts —all these and more than the mind can retain—make this epic of the cattlecountry an immcmorable event in literary or dramatic chronicles. Histrionically, the picture has been apparently cast with an eye to the suitability of the actors to the types they portrayed, which, to our way of thinking, is the first essence of perfect characterisation on the screen. Having first looked the parts, the cast then gives a remarkable performance well nigh flawless. Bessie Love, wistful and diminutive, plays the frail little homesteader to her greater glory. She has never done anything better, and it will win for this talented little lady a host of new admirers. Hobart Bosworth, alwyas a man’s man, vigorous, robust, and dominating every scene he is in, equals his finest screen characterisations. Bosworth, in the role of John Brent, becomes in “Sundown” the very reincarnation of cattleman. The very bigness of “Sundown” seems to fit his predominating personality. This picture will be screened again to-day at the matinee and again to-night.

there was also a tumbler with some white powder in it. Dr. Charles Scott, house physician at Charing Cross Hospital, said that Mrs Woodman died without recovering consciousness from narcotic poisoning. She must have taken about 150 grains of veronal. The lethal dose was about 50 grains. “MAD ABOUT DANCING.” The Coroner, in summing up, said that for the past two years Mrs Woodman seemed to have lived unhappily with her husband, through her own fault. She was apparently mad about dancing. Many people were nowadays. They treated it not merely as an occasional amusement for relaxation, but a serious business of life. As her dancing was with one particular man it was very natural her husband should object, which ho did very strongly. She was very obstinate about it, and would not give it up. She was going out night after night dancing witn someone of whom her husband did not approve. In the end they parted. A threat was frequently used without any intention of putting it into operation. That was the interpretation Mr Woodman put on the letter. He told her quite definitely in the letter he sent to her on Saturday that nothing on earth would induce him to live w’ith her again. That was his final decision. He had a generous arrangement for providing her with an income which would enable her to live in comfort, and finally put his foot down and refused to have anything more to do with her. That letter was in reply to one from her in which she threatened to take veronal unless he took her back, and in which she accused him of being a murderer if he did not take her back. She left two letters which showed there could be no doubt about the cause of her death. One letter was to her maid, and said: “You know I have done everything possible to get Mr Woodman back. 1 could not live alone. There was nothing else to do.” The letter, said the Coroner, also gave directions about her furs, jewellery, and money. “I LOVED LIFE.” The Coroner went on to refer to another long letter which, he said, appeared to have been meant for him. In the letter, he said, Mrs Woodman said: “The last thing I wanted to do was to take my life, as I love life; but my husband has forced me to do it. He promised on his word of honour that the separation would be only for three months, and that he would take a house in town on my return.’’ Then, the Coroner continued, she said: “I received a letter from him ir which he said he had decided not to live with me again. The shock nearly killed me. I have done everything in my power to make him keep his promise. I have cabled him and written him that I should kill myself if he let me down.” The Coroner (turning to Mr Woodman) : Did you make such promise, Mr Woodman?—No. Tho Coroner again referred to the letter and read the following message: “It is frightful to be forced to take one’s life. I could not go on and live alone. The world is too cruel.” The Coroner said that it was quite evident that the woman was very distressed on finding that her husband hud finally decided to leave her, and the distress she suffered caused her to take her life. He returned a verdict that she died from veronal poisoning self-adminis-tered while of unsound mind.