STAGE NOTES.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Issue 1403, 15 March 1917, Page 5

STAGE NOTES.

A war film which is said to easily eclipse the Battle of the Somme picture in every respect is that of the Battle of the Ancre, which has been showing at the London theatres during the past couple of months. This film of the Ancre battle shows one aspect of the front all the writers have lacked words to convey—the mud. Every picture is plastered with it; all the action of the mighty drama works in a sea of it; men, horses, and guns labour in a viscid torment. An officer passes the camera—he suddenly sinks thigh-deep; wooden grids

are laid in the trenches as steppingbridges—and still the men flounder to the knees; horses struggle with shells to the forward positions —they look like new and strange beasts, their legs hidden in the universal quagmire. From nervous dawn to exultant dusk the whole great victory is shown; the film begins and ends in twilight. Giant howitzers bob up and down rhythmically, as pistons of steam engines; the lesser guns join the dance (audiences will laugh at one snub-nosed little gun barking away in the middle of a road in a passion of wrath). And then follows wave after wave of advancing men. It shows the height and fury ®f battle and the battle’s aftermath, limping wounded, droves of prisoners, the piteous scenes of the dressing stations, and the high, exuberant comedies of the British soldier in his nightfall of victory. It is all real, all unrehearsed; but it is welded like a stage drama. It is a wonderful film.

Anita King, a well-known cinema star (says the Woman’s Companion) last spring was appointed as the head of a special department of the Los Angeles City Mothers’ Bureau, and an associate member of the Women’s Court, to protect and advise the screen-struck young girls who flock to Los Angeles by hundreds in search of employment with motion picture producing companies. These girls, says the “Companion,” have the impression that anyone can secure an engagement at a studio. Most of them are practically penniless, and some, unable to secure employment, gradually fall into evil ways. When they come to the attention, of the police they give their vocation as “motion picture actresses,” and this naturally throws the whole profession into disrepute. Miss King is promoting a club where “extra girls”—those who are able to get work occasionally—can spend their evenings. She has arranged with the Young Women’s Christian Association for the girls to receive instruction in physical culture and swimming, and they have also

taken up the study of the modern drama, following the outlines prescribed by the National Drama League, with which the club is affiliated. Recently in America there was a “better film” conference, which lasted four days, and was constituted or 37,000 active members.

Though fierce battles were fought in which all kinds of warlike weapons and methods of combat were used in the course of the making of “Intolerance,” it says much for the organising skill and careful direction of D. W. Griffith that not a single life was lost. There were about sixty minor accidents, but not one serious injury. The fact that 67,000 people took part in the colossal picture spectacle might have justified the expectation that amongst them would be too enthusiastic or intrepid fighters who would jab a spear too far, or throw a heavy rock in the wrong direction, and so stop for ever the career of the attackers of Babylon. While the picture was being made, a special hospital was erected by Griffith, with a staff of doctors and nurses just like a regular institution, and an ambulance service was ready, in case of accident, at all times, particularly when the fighting was on. Griffith left nothing to chance, a fact which is borne out by the wonderful detail and completeness with which he has created “Intolerance.”