The New Pictures

Grass. A little group of camera- armed explorers went into exile to get this picture. After extraordinary adventures and tribulations, they returned with their story -one of the most extraordinary that has been told on the screen -in celluloid strips.

The remarkable feature of it is that there is no story at all. It is a colossal travel picture from lands where travelers never go. In the heart of the continent of Asia there are millions and millions of miles inhabited only by semi-civilized nomads. The search of these nomads for their own food, for their cattle's fodder is the plot of this peculiar picture. There are no actors, just tribes and herds, mountains.

Man and Maid. Elinor Glyn has had millions of readers. Her stories should do for the same millions of see-ers. This one is Lew Cody play- ing a British Army officer who marries "his nurse.

The Charmer. Pola Negri almost always works an entertaining miracle of some sort. Whether it is her personality or the shrewd selection of directors and material is difficult to say. Sidney Olcott took an old novel, put her back in the pages as a dancing girl in a European inn. A theatre man, a millionaire and his chauffeur become interested in her. She comes to New York, dances herself into prominence, marries the chauffeur.

I Want My Man. Doris Kenyon is one of the few picture actresses of whom too faint is the chanted praise. They are all pretty. Miss Kenyon acts; possibly that is why she goes unrecognized in Hollywood. In this one, she acts a nurse who marries a blind soldier. His eyes open seven years later and a former sweetheart complicates conditions. Milton Sills is the soldier.

A Kiss in the Dark. They bought Aren't We All? (Cyril Maude's recent success), threw it all away and wrote a completely new scenario on the general theme. This theme discusses the proprieties of kissing the hus- bands and wives of others. Adolphe Menjou makes it moderately enter- taining.

The Heart of a Siren. Of all the

particularly prominent motion-picture actresses, Barbara La Marr probably least deserves her distinction. Possibly she did once; a good many feet of film have gone through the camera since then. Here she is a siren of European capitals who marches about in white satin with a tall wand. Men kill themselves. She tries to kill herself. The maid shifted the poison, making it a "happy" ending.