This jazz epic [from Josephine Lovett's newspaper serial] follows the title, is sumptuously mounted, gets plenty of playing from three girls and is sufficiently physically teasing.
This jazz epic [from Josephine Lovett’s newspaper serial] follows the title, is sumptuously mounted, gets plenty of playing from three girls and is sufficiently physically teasing.
Add to that headwork in direction which doesn’t show the younger generation doing impossible things, except in one instance, and a story that marries off the juvenile to the scheming flapper before he gets back to the frank and daring but honest heroine.
It’s mainly because of Joan Crawford and Anita Page who see-saw for cast honors, although someone ought to have tipped the camera boys to stop shooting Anita in profile on closeups or mediums.
The boyishly figured Crawford has seldom looked better than in this one. She’s both heavy and light on clothes and strictly for the camera either way.
Page is given her major spot down next to closing in a lengthy drunk sequence to which she gives abundant authenticity and which ends in her death after a fall down a flight of stairs.
Dorothy Sebastian is close behind as the wronged girl with the fiery husband. She especially registers in scenes opposite Nils Asther and has a couple of spots with Crawford which aren’t hard to watch.