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from Motion Picture News
"I, Mary MacLane," by Mary MacLane, has been made into a picture by Essanay under the title, "Men Who Have Made Love to Me," and the star is none other than Mary MacLane. "So that you may know me," says she into the lens of the camera between puffs on her cigarette, "I, Mary MacLane, will tell you of six piquant love episodes in my life - all of them damnably real." And then is pictured much of the contents of her book, a book which, by the way, has created more than one sensation, and her affairs with a callow youth, a literary man, a younger son, a prize fighter, a bank clerk, and a husband of another are unfolded one after another. Each of these passages as narrated by Miss MacLane seems to bring out her own egoism more than anything else. Her own life, her own existence is omni-potent, her affairs always interesting but unfathomable. When finally she is through with the "husband of another," she questions her maid as to whether true love exists. And the maid, having just been married, answers "oui m'amselle." The maid's one affair has not been piquant, it has been highly successful from her point of view. But, being an egoist, Miss MacLane is still inclined to doubt the existence of a perfect love. It is something of a pity she was - and is - so cynically self-centered, an attitude which naturally tends to distort love and forbid it its right of trespass. How the affairs of this modern George Sand will impress their beholders is a question of the mooted variety. They have interested many already on the printed page, they will attract more and interest more in divers ways. "The stripping naked of a woman's soul" is bound to contain interesting material at least. And exciting? At times, yes. And a little aggravating also, and finally disappointing to a certain extent. Aggravating because it is always I, Mary MacLane, and because the impression is conveyed that she is an egotist as well as an egoist. The lofty heights from which she seems to regard her six lovers, from which point she dissects them bit by bit, generating the idea that she must have a male Mary MacLane, if she finally select a life mate, seem to grate on the nerves of the common'males and females that go through the world less analytical, less cynical and more contented with things as they come along. And, unlike a play of the same type, for instance, the "Madame Sand," which New York has only just seen, the various episodes bear a certain sameness in their development and termination. Offset by a dialogue of brilliant wit, such as was the play, the "Men Who Have Made Love to Me" of Mary MacLane's might have proven as entertaining as the "Madame Sand" of Mrs. Fiske's. All this when considered as bearing upon the manner in which the photoplay will be accepted leads to a certain definite conclusion. It is to be expected that with all the advertising Mary MacLane has had in the past - with all that Essinay is giving her in the present, that there will be a public eagerly awaiting the picture. And so it should have successful runs - from the box-office standpoint. The audiences will, in all probability, accept it as more or less of a curiosity - to be discussed, analyzed, criticised, favorably and unfavorably, much as she of the six love affairs discusses, analyzes and criticises each of them. Miss MacLane's personality registers as wierd and mystic on the screen. Her eyes express her struggle to understand. Her whole attitude is one of aloofness, cynicism - she anticipates the conclusion of each affair - seems rather bored about it. The six actors who one after another play the six men of the title are competent and selected with a fine regard to type. Arthur Berthelet has given the picture a good setting and the photography is to be commended.
The callow youth (Ralph Graves) fascinated by Mary MacLane makes her his confidant, but soon bores her, and she is glad to send him back to his sweetheart. The literary man (R. Paul Harvey) is too dominating, and the break comes soon. The younger son (Clif Worman) proves rather nasty in a roadhouse, and she is rescued from him by the prize fighter (Alador Prince). She gives him up because of an appeal made by his sweetheart, and an idealistic bank clerk (Clarence Derwent) is next. He paints rosy pictures of marriage, but it is all at an end when he discovers that she smokes and drinks. The husband of another (Fred Tiden) proves altogether impossible when he breaks into her room and attacks her.
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