Reviews of silent film releases on home video. Copyright © 1999-2024 by Carl Bennett and the Silent Era Company. All Rights Reserved.

Children in the House (1916)

Norma Talmadge stars in this domestic drama from directors Sidney and Chester Franklin. Eugene Pallette, Alice Rae and William Hinckley support in this Fine Arts soaper.

Cora Vincent (Talmadge) is the lonely, neglected wife of Arthur Vincent (Pallette), who is infatuated with a beautiful nightclub dancer (Jewel Carmen). Arthur’s brother Charles (Hinckley) is in love from afar with his sister-in-law. Predictable complications ensue.

Financially stretched from playing sugar daddy, Arthur approaches his banker father for funds and is rebuffed. Jane, the dancer, and her crooked confederate, Al Fellows (Walter Long, of course), intend to strip Arthur of any and all monies he can obtain. Meanwhile, Charles and Cora reminisce over their lost opportunity for mutual happiness. Everything is tears and regrets, for Cora is determined to accept the consequences of her earlier choice to marry Arthur.

Arthur is approached by Al and Jane with the idea of robbing his father's bank. A plan is set in motion, to the glee of the criminals. The robbery goes without a hitch . . . well, except for a cracked auto engine cylinder.

Having reached the end of her tether, Cora wants to chuck it all in but must first suffer in her indecisiveness, with Charles remaining ineffectual in his moral obligation to remain mute until he finally proposes they run away together. Cora must remain, for the sake of her children.

The problem with long-suffering martyrs is that they can be quite boring characters. But, in motion pictures of the teens, audiences wanted the heroes of their stories to be morally upright and free of scandal and rebuke. Often, the result is a static character who is stoic and actionless.

That being said, we can always rely on a good, old Griffith-style chase sequence in the last reel to quicken audience pulses. And, oh, yes. In case there is any question, all still ends well at the denouement.

— Carl Bennett