Word: humors
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...What Price Glory); directed by King Vidor; and principally played by John Gilbert and Renee Adoree. It is the story of a rich man's son, a riveter and a bartender in the trenches, and the French girl that the first of these three married. It has humor, terror and bewildering beauty. It has one of the most exciting stories ever filmed, direction unexcelled, and truth and brilliancy of acting. The Big Parade is the one film since The Covered Wagon that men, women and children must not miss...
...Articles will be judged by the following standards: a humor; b, style; c, taste...
Such words as "blastoderm", "sindoc," "peris," "parasang," "sarcenet," "teazel," "nullah," "cantatrice," "barracan," "sistrum," writhed and hissed in her verses. One poem began with the nebular hypothesis and ended with prohibition; others cantered with a Eugene Fieldian humor; still others coldly glowed with the passion-weary detachment of a woman who has had her fill of life and its motley follies. Critic-Poet Louis Untermeyer chortled with elation. Poet William Rose Benét wrote a preface. The English Society of Authors and Playwrights (of which Thomas Hardy is President) asked Nathalia Crane to join them...
...this play it was agreed to be one of the most interesting and effective technical experiments produced by a native playwright. Also it was funny. The latitude of the movies obscures somewhat the ingenious fitting of the pieces. The director and Douglas MacLean have retained the brisk and novel humor...
...herself into the earth of realism. And buffoonery is not lasting. Mr. Sherman has illumined that fact many times with the light of common sense. And if she must bury herself, it must be in real life, exactly as the American saga is doing. That the new saga lacks humor is pathetic but too evident to remain surprising. So Mr. Sherman points the only path to creative heights. It lies among the uncluttered hills, upon the uncluttered plains, in the cluttered hearts of the simple people. In truth, the future of the American novel seems to lie just there...