Wallace Reid was the embodiment of the Matinée Idol just as much as he resented that status. Tall, well-groomed, sunny-natured and invariably good-looking, “Wally” possessed everything that could captivate women. He was a universal favourite and a fellow apparently blessed by luck. Speaking of him, one female journalist observed with disbelief: “No one person should corner all the good things of life.” Indeed, his fame, born out of cinema, seemed almost unreal. He soon became a symbol of the Roaring Twen-ties: he adored speed and racing cars, and brought this passion to the screen, with his pictures proving particularly successful. Reid exuded a rare vitality, and his allure was overwhelming and constantly in view: the camera had only to follow him, capturing every movement, gesture and facial expression. His popularity would later be second only to the hype surrounding Rudolph Valentino. However, the two actors also had another thing in common: their premature death. Reid’s fate is no less tragic than Valentino’s. As early as 1919, his films were generating colossal profits for the studios. When the young star was injured during the making of The Valley of the Giants, the executives, reluctant to stop filming, chose to numb his pain with morphine to keep the work going. Wallace Reid succumbed in 1923, at the height of his career, to the common flu, which proved fatal due to the extreme debilitation caused by drug addiction. Il Cinema Ritrovato will feature the world premiere of the restored version of Sick Abed – a typical
Matinée film, and very likely one of the least screened. This light, witty chamber farce, based on a Broadway stage play by Ethel Watts Mumford and directed by Sam Wood, was first and foremost a vehicle for the actor. However, instead of his usual men’s attire, which almost invariably suited him perfectly, here Reid dons a dressing gown, which, surprisingly, proves equally fitting.

Tamara Shvediuk