The plot strains credulity and Novarro's character changes his mind without conviction (other than this is what the script dictates)at least once. And it's melodramatic, depending on the kind of mischance that drives a Thomas Hardy novel. Enid Bennett is no Lillian Gish -- Bennett does not demonstrate that subtle shift in emotion and attitude that makes Gish so great -- although the changes in Bennett's makeup are remarkable. She does, finally, revert to "Angel Face." That said, this is a classic silent film. It uses a minimum of title cards. Its shots are beautifully designed. It has a neat repeat of the beginning in the ending -- with the exception that Wallace Beery's Bo Bo is involved in the latter. He's the only one who seems to grasp what a close call the lovers have just had. The final scene becomes a visual summary of the film. One moment -- when Bennett lights a candle on the fireplace of her former home and the tint immediately becomes orange --is breathtaking. The Paris depicted is that of Victor Hugo -- no grand vistas or broad boulevards, but cul de sacs, hovels, brothels, the sewers, and the constant pursuit of avenging gendarmes. The film demonstrates why these films packed movie houses and why they are still so much more worth watching than 90 % of "talkies."
Review of The Red Lily
