In Mizzoura (1914)

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Burr McIntosh | Raymond Bond | Lawrence B. McGill (Director)

Rest of cast:

William Conklin | Francesca Rotoli | Gideon Burton | Charlotte Lambert | Harry Blakemore | Augustus Thomas (Play)

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“In Mizzoura”

Five parts. All-Star Feature Corporation.

Reviewed by W. Stephen Bush.

[Transcriber’s Note: This review was written more than 100 years ago. Its language is not okay now, and it was not okay then. We decided to publish it, warts ’n all, to shine a light on how people were thinking, speaking and acting all those years ago — and not all of it is positive.]

With a full appreciation of the splendid work heretofore done by the All Star Corporation it must be stated that their latest production is their best and most indubitable credential for admission into the top-class of quality. The small but select audience which witnessed the private exhibition in the Bryant Theater gave it the significant approval of prolonged applause, not the perfunctory and hired kind, but the real thing, spontaneous and electric. Never was applause better deserved.

The very life of the art is dependent on production of superior quality to offset the ravages of the time-table releases.

In Mizzoura is a classic of American dramatic literature. As this filmed version once more proves how much the screen improves on the stage, I predict a long and successful revival of this justly popular play.

Even the most captious of critics must give unreserved praise to the screen direction and adaptation of In Mizzoura. It is masterly and masterful and extends to the big things and to the seemingly little things in the same thorough and flawless manner. It is no small tribute to the director to say that the play runs along at times for five hundred feet without a title, because the action is so swift and so logical as to make titles worse than superfluous. One of the great points of merit is the atmosphere of the play. We are indeed In Mizzoura. This strange but most appealing mixture of the rugged, the simple, the heroic, the homely and the humorous needed the right atmosphere to give it its full charm and power. Here we have the local color in satisfying profusion. There is no doubt about this blacksmith shop, where the giant of the simple heart plied his skill, no doubt about the rickety stage which we naturally expected to get stuck in the mud, no doubt about the old darky enjoying the strains of his harmonica in front of the court house, no doubt about those quiet, broad village roads where fond couples love to walk after twilight, no doubt about the lovable high-bred pup to whom the rash titler refers as a “stray pup.” These fine touches of apparently unsought and unprepared realism endear this play to us and make each character seem true to life, even to the slightest detail.

With but two minor exceptions the acting in this play is unsurpassed in any production which I have ever seen. Burr McIntosh is a host in himself. He would have delighted the eye of a painter in his characteristic poses, while his poise and reserve in the great emotional scenes stamp his work as a triumph of histrionic skill. He was racy of the soil on which he lived and in every move and turn of face or body he was the rugged, simple, warmheated Jo Vernon, a glorious embodiment of manhood among the plain people. As he stood there beside the forge hammering the red-hot iron, examining the horse ready to be shod, fitting the wheel to the wagon he was indeed a master of his craft and most inviting to look upon. The picture of him in his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes on the morning of the convention was a rare touch of refined comedy and not without pathos. This Jo Vernon of McIntosh is a distinct creation of his own, and I do not believe there is anything quite as lovable in the whole range of dramatic motion pictures. Next to McIntosh, and just as true a representation of character, is the part of Jim Radburn played by Mr. Raymond Bond. This artist, too, rather lived than acted the part. He was a true knight of the backwoods full of genuine chivalry and manly modesty of bearing. He excelled in portraying the lighter touches of his part, though he was by no means deficient in ability to master the tenser and more tragic situations. His facing of the mob led by the inimitable Colonel Bollinger (H. D. Blakemore), was an achievement in itself. His throwing away the stiff, starched collar he had worn in deference to the dignity of his shrieval office was charmingly natural. He simply felt that in braving the mob he had to clear for action, and a stiff collar would have smacked too much of parade and “dudishness.” In showing the woman he loved how much braver he really was than the man she admired he rose to unusual heights of histrionic art. Another highly meritorious performance was that of Mr. William Conlon as Travers. Charlotte Lambert was a most convincing “Ma” Vernon; Gideon Burton acquitted himself well in the somewhat thankless part of Sam Fowler, while Francesco Rotoli gave a well-considered portrayal of the willful girl, good at heart, but romantically silly in her ambitions. The parts taken by Dave and Lisbeth, difficult parts in a screen production, were not quite up to the standard. I find no fault with the acting, but every audience will say that Dave was too young and thin, and Lisbeth too old and stout. Perhaps it was all done with the idea of emphasizing the humor of the thing, but it does not seem to accord with the flawless quality of the rest. The photography was superb and many new wrinkles in camera work are introduced.

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Scene from In Mizzoura (All-Star)

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Collection: Moving Picture World, March 1914