Cinema: Again Arbuckle?

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roommate in a puzzled state of mind. She is still puzzled when her seducer reappears, three years after graduation. He is still smiling vaguely, but his intentions have improved. They love each other and will act accordingly.

Cinema audiences stopped believing that all college students were morons several years ago and Confessions of a Co-ed will therefore seem implausible as well as dull. Its dialog, anonymously contributed, is comparable to Mother Goose without rhymes and its campus mise-en-scene suggests the cloisters of a day nursery for retarded adolescents. If anyone can take any interest at all in Confessions of a Coed, it will be because Sylvia Sidney almost manages to make real emotions out of fake situations. One of the many young actresses who have effected a successful transfer from the stage to talkies, she replaced Clara Bow in City Streets when the Daisy de Boe scandal and Cinemactress Bow's indispositions made the substitution necessary. She is now being groomed, though inefficiently, to be a star.

Born in The Bronx, she left school to go on the stage, stole the play when, in Crime, she sat on a park bench and said "Squeeze me" to boy friends. She has her make-up prescribed for her by a chemist; other kinds poison her. Scarcely five feet tall, she loathes outdoor exercise, has a quick temper and five nicknames (Slivick, Monkey, Goofy, Brat, Funny Face). She speaks Yiddish, wears no underclothes, cannot eat eggs, can twist her right wrist so that it cracks, likes to go to Bellevue Hospital to hear lectures on psychology.