Louise Glaum (Madame), House Peters (John Culbertson), Noble Johnson (Chaké), and Benny Ayers, Nathan Curry, Alfred Hollingsworth. Directed by Wesley Ruggles. Based on the play by Stewart Edward White. Adapted for the screen by H. Tipton Steck and Stanley C. Morse. Photography by Charles Stumar. Film editor: Ralph H. Dixon. Art titles: F. J. van Halle, Carl Schneider, Leo H. Braun. Art director: Charles Kyson. Technical directors: Harvey C. Leavitt, W.L. Heyward. Independently produced and supervised by J. Parker Read, Jr. Executive producer: Thomas H. Ince.
Copyrighted by J. Parker Read, Jr: 25 September 1920. Released through Associated Producers. Los Angeles opening: 15 October 1920. Running time: 71 minutes.
COMMENT: This elaborately produced nonsense would have enjoyed quite a lot of appeal for me in its original tinted print. Unfortunately, the black-and-white copy is a bit of a chore to sit through, despite the pleasure of some wonderfully bizarre art titles including: "Then the ruby-jeweled fingers of the dawn – parting the sable curtains of the tropic night." (sic). Nevertheless, Louise Glaum's siren (a Clayton's femme fatale if ever there was one, namely the femme fatale you have when you're not having a femme fatale) hots up the screen even in Grapevine's mostly far-too-dark, but occasionally far too light, black-and-white copy (which is at least complete – and not a mark on it!), but glum, slow-moving and slow-thinking hero, House Peters tends to out-stay his welcome.
Copyrighted by J. Parker Read, Jr: 25 September 1920. Released through Associated Producers. Los Angeles opening: 15 October 1920. Running time: 71 minutes.
COMMENT: This elaborately produced nonsense would have enjoyed quite a lot of appeal for me in its original tinted print. Unfortunately, the black-and-white copy is a bit of a chore to sit through, despite the pleasure of some wonderfully bizarre art titles including: "Then the ruby-jeweled fingers of the dawn – parting the sable curtains of the tropic night." (sic). Nevertheless, Louise Glaum's siren (a Clayton's femme fatale if ever there was one, namely the femme fatale you have when you're not having a femme fatale) hots up the screen even in Grapevine's mostly far-too-dark, but occasionally far too light, black-and-white copy (which is at least complete – and not a mark on it!), but glum, slow-moving and slow-thinking hero, House Peters tends to out-stay his welcome.