The New Pictures

Secrets. Norma Talmadge has an uncanny trick of enhancing her beauty year after year while new screen stars rise before the camera, harden into the semblance of cabaret girls, then iris out. In this triplicate role, she is first a romantic eloper, then a wife struggling with her husband in the American wilderness, then the forgiving wife of a philandering notable.

Beau Brummel. John Barrymore does his most telling and versatile work since Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in Richard Mansfield's famous vehicle portraying the impudent English dandy of 1800 who would not take an insult from a rotund Prince of Wales who did not look as prepossessing as he. Mr. Barrymore's remarkable virtuosity enables him to look like Adonis at the height of the Beau's career; like Ernest Torrence upon his downfall; like Lon Chancy as the palsied wreck of the once famed gallant. The story really has its climax at the start, and its romance ebbs and flows uncertainly. But it is held together by the power of Barrymore's true impersonation and startling makeup. The dawning of a little intelligence in his eyes just before the Beau's death is probably as remarkable a sight as was ever recorded by the searching

camera. Virtuous Liars. One of those artist pictures in which we are to believe that a married woman seeking an artist's career in New York can win fame fastest if she poses as a widow to the denizens of baldhead row. Her scamp husband is put out of the way of her second marriage to the hero, by a shot.

Three Weeks. The producers have done much better by Mrs. Glyn than she has deserved. They have not only featured the tiger skin on which the Queen (Aileen Pringle) does her notorious vamping of the innocent young man (Conrad Nagel), but, they have added a seductive bower of roses for good measure. Abraham Lincoln summed up this sort of product when he said of a book of poems: "For the kind of person who likes this kind of thing, this is the kind of thing that he will like."

Woman to Woman. Betty Compson does better work with the role of a little Montmartre dancer than is usually the case, though the only truly notable feature of the triangular story is the lack of a good, thoroughgoing villain.