Word: arliss
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1930-1939
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...ranch in a taxi. Wheeler i? induced to run for sheriff, an office as dangerous to its incumbent as the presidency of a South American republic. Wheeler giggles constantly; Woolsey chews cigars. A small girl (Mitzi Green) gives impersonations of Bing Crosby, Roscoe Ates, Edna May Oliver and George Arliss. A girl named Kitty Kelly sings three Gershwin songs from the stage version of Girl Crazy ("I've Got Rhythm." "Bidin' My Time," "Not for Me"). Eventually the happy adjustment of a minor romance between the dude rancher (Eddie Quillan) and a coy Arizonan (Arline Judge) serves as an excuse...
...Played God (Warner). The crucial moment in this picture arrives when George Arliss, standing on the balcony of his Manhattan apartment, peers down into Central Park with spy glasses applied to his melancholy eyes which, in private life, are aided only by a monocle. Arliss is a celebrated pianist, indignant because deafness has made impractical the pursuit of his art. While cursing the deity and contemplating suicide, he has learned to read lips so adroitly that he can do it with field glasses. Looking into Central Park, he spies out his fiancee who is engaged in amorous colloquy...
...Arliss, whose long-range eavesdroppings have previously prompted him to perform other sly philanthropies, releases her. When the picture ends he is strumming on an organ and apparently contemplating matrimony with a sympathetic widow (Violet Heming...
Sober, pious, less dramatic than it should have been, The Man Who Played God has the distinction of that crafty dignity which George Arliss injects into all his impersonations. His thin smile, his high nose, his punctilious diction relieve the antiquated arguments of the story (by Gouverneur Morris) which will be joyfully hailed by those who regard the cinema as an agent for good...
...George Arliss is the dean of Hollywood's leading men, as Marie Dressier is the Mother Superior of its heroines. His frugality; his apelike way of walking, with his shoulders stooped and his hands hanging about his knees, make him more of an enigma to Hollywood than Hollywood is to him. He defends it against its detractors, calls it busy, sane. His valet. Jenner, who has been with him for 25 years, brings him tea at 3:30 every day, sees that he quits work promptly at 4:30, says he has never seen George Arliss break a monocle...