A certain delicious and soothing tenderness pervades this film, which casts a hallowed influence over the audience and holds them in an impressive silence which lasts as long as the picture remains with them. It is a tender story. A young girl, disfigured for life by an accident, her beauty gone, must needs be overlooked, even neglected, when her handsome sisters are about. A blind violinist, shut out from all enjoyment which appeals to the sense of sight. Surely the two are pathetic enough to rouse the sympathies of the most callous individual. They meet at a reception, their hands touch, and in that touch each recognizes the affinity of the other. But the girl must undergo a supreme test before she is permitted to enjoy to the full her new found happiness, it is discovered that sight may be restored to the blind eyes, and in supplying the money from her own savings to remove the curtains from the eyes which may loathe her when they see her, the young woman rises to the standard of great dramatic interpretation. The operation is successful. The girl waits with fear the verdict; but the young man knows her soul. He sees not the disfiguring mark, and the happiness of both is assured. The development of character in this picture is so natural and is accomplished with so little effort that one seems to feel the story as it is illustrated. Living characters could not make it plainer and in places the silent drama seems even more impressive than spoken lines could make it. The imagination is stimulated and enables one to appreciate more fully the dramatic situations which are inherent in the picture. In some respects this is the greatest film of the week. Its suggestiveness is so strong that one does not forget it easily and it will serve as a basis of comparison for many days to come. - The Moving Picture World, November 27, 1909
Review of The Light That Came
