One Week (Keaton 1920)

My goodness, yes. I'd seen this before, years ago, during a brief previous flirtation with silent comedy- curiously enough it didn't leave much impression on me. Certainly a lote less than the Chaplins and Laurel and Hardys I was thriving on at the time. But watching it now I'm gobsmacked that I wasn't singing its praises from the highest rooftop- it really is perfect isn't it? I mean, it does absolutely everything right- the blend of cleverness and funniness is just spot on. A world without Buster Keaton is almost unthinkable- there are few things more asinine than getting into the whole business of ranking silent comedians, but Keaton is of the very first rank, the very first- let's just leave it there.
Buster and the very sweet Sybil Seely are married- as a wedding present they are given a self-assembly house and a plot of land to build it on. Even before the house-building shenanigans there's some great stuff with a jilted ex-boyfriend and a cop- it's all so casually brilliant, and that I think is part of the charm of Keaton: there's nothing particularly in-your-face about what he's doing, he's just subtly brilliant. And the chemistry between the newlyweds is magical too- I think it's quite telling that even with all this wonderful slapstick, and the procession of Buster's genuinely jaw-dropping stunts, some of the most memorable moments are the little kisses between the two of them. There's a real love story tucked in there, which is why you're not even too downhearted at the ending- the big failure, the house destroyed, the walk away together down the dusty road: you know they've got each other, and everything's going to be just fine.

Two Tars (Laurel & Hardy 1928)

I think there's much still to be said on the subject of anger in Laurel and Hardy films. Just an observation... Very funny this of course, and one of ther finest silent shorts, but my goodness the anger, the uncontained tempers!
It's probably no coincidence that the pick of the Laurel and Hardy films can be given one line summaries in the style of- and bear with me while I try and summon up the nerve to lower the tone for a second- 'Friends'.  There's the christmas trees one, the music box one, and this one- this is the traffic jam one. Twenty minutes long, and surely a good fifteen of those minutes are spent in the confines of the angriest, most violence-filled traffic jam you're ever going to see. And, perverse as ever, I'm going to say that I actually prefer the stuff that comes before it- Stan and Ollie, two sailors home on leave, pick up a swell pair of girls and try and get some sweets out of a doodad for them. Charlie Hall is the diminutive dark-haired sweet vendor who provides the opposition for their first fight in the film, though it's the girls who really get stuck into him. The interplay between the boys and the girls in these first couple of scenes is lovely, lots of cute flirtation and shy smiles, but it does highlight how for the remainder of the film the girls becomes eye candy and not really anything more.
I love the jaunty nautical bounding strides both the Boys have here- these little touches work so well (similarly the exchange of hats- no big deal is made of it, and you could almost miss it completely, but it's so lovely) and help take 'Two Tars' to a higher level. The traffic jam scene is great of course- a ton of fabulous moments in there. But you already know that.

Way Out West (Laurel & Hardy 1937)

'Way Out West', glorious though it is, probably confirms that for my taste at least the feature length was a step too far for Laurel and Hardy. In shorts, they were perfect, frequently perfect, but in features- and this is surely the best of them all- there's just a little too much flab, too many scenes that should have been trimmed or even snipped out completely.
I don't know, maybe that's harsh.
Maybe I need to lay my cards on the table and say that I think 20-30 minutes is the premium for all comedy media- you cross that line and you're into diminishing returns. Maybe ultimately that's my problem then- I'm not sure any comedy feature is ever going to give me exactly what I'm looking for. But 'Way Out West' comes much, much closer than most. I could have done without the scenes of the Boys trying to reclaim the goldmine deed at night- this dragged. There were fine touches, but I didn't want to be watching it. The stuff with the mule, and Ollie going up and down with the ropes- there was nothing wrong with it, but it was a long and pretty pointless scene where I didn't want a long and pretty pointless scene to be. I can be a perfectionist you know.
Ah, but now let's bask in some of the glories that came before. The plot of course- Stan and Ollie are somehow entrusted with handing over the deeds to a young saloon worker whose father has just died. Her guardains try and trick her out of her inheritance. Finn, in particular, was never better than here- there's a gurning aside he gives to camera qute early on, just before Laurel and Hardy meet the conniving Sharon Lynn for the first time I think, that is absolutely magical. I think it's filed away in the Flickr album of my mind's eye for all time. In his own way James Finlayson was a legend, and I think we should pause for a second to appreciate him...
The musical numbers worked better here too than in any other Stan and Ollie film I've seen- the film didn't stop to accommodate them, and more to the point the entertainment didn't stop to accommodate them. They worked well as musical numbers, and they were funny.
And surely the tickling scene with Stan and Sharon Lynn is one of the most perversely sexual things ever to find its way on to film? Maybe it's me again. Maybe I need to keep quiet.

Mabel And Fatty's Married Life (Normand / Arbuckle 1915)

There's not much going on here, not a huge number of laughs to be had, yet its got a nice feel to it and Fatty and Mabel are always lovely to watch together. There's something easy-going and spontaneous about them, especially their scenes together where they seem so relaxed and care-free. This is very rare for films of this vintage, to my eyes at least. Having two actors appear so natural and at home on the screen makes the film enjoyable even when the material may be a little lacklustre.
The film is an anecdote really, a throwaway shaggy dog story. Cursed by an organ grinder in the park, Mabel finds herself terrified of strange movements around the house while her husband's away. It turns out to be the organ grinder's monkey playing peek-a-boo around her curtains. Damn I've spoilt the twist for you. This one is very much about Mabel, and she oozes class with those heavy eyelids of hers, dishevelled hair and pretty but slightly geeky face. Both of these comedians could have made it big in films at any time I think- their appeal is timeless and that's why it's a shame that the films themselves can appear quite dated. I can't imagine sitting down and watching one of these Keystone films with my 7 year old daughter- wind forward to the early twenties though and the films become so much more approachable for modern audiences.
The Keystone cops help to wrap things up, but they are going through the motions rather.
Lovely giggle at the end from Fatty as his Mabel recounts her experiences.

Sons Of The Desert (Laurel & Hardy 1933)

We could be venturing into heresey territory here, but for a big chunk of its duration I don't think 'Sons of the Desert' is very good. I mean, it is good, and it is certainly one of the better Laurel and Hardy features, but anyone talking about it as one of their best films? No sir. I take exception to that kind of talk. But you can see why its reputation is as high as it is- the ending is so good that you just come away from the film on a high, and tend to forget some of the less successful stuff that has gone before. Such as: Charley Chase. The stuff with Charley Chase just isn't funny. Now I love Charley Chase. And I can accept that he's playing a whole different kind of character here, and I'm happy with that- go for it, see if it works. But it plainly doesn't. There's nothing wrong in principle with having a hugely irritating, obnoxious character in a comedy film- it just doesn't work here. There's nothing funny in what he says or what he does- it isn't Charley's fault, this just really isn't particularly funny material.
Let's move on to the business with the front doors. Stan and Ollie live next door to each other, and there's a huge, elaborate sequence of them geting confused and entering each other's houses, getting locked out, trying again etc. This would have been, should have been, a nice little gag, but it is blown up into being a showcase scene, with all the different possibilities explored. And it is tiresome. Really it is. There I've said it.
You know what, let's just stick my neck right out while I'm getting carried away and say one more thing. I don't really care for Mae Busch. She may be great in films I haven't seen her in, but in the films I have seen her in I don't really care for her. I find her irritating. I've said it, move on, move on.
There is, of course, some wonderful, wonderful stuff here. The final few minutes- the confessions to the wives certainly, but also the scenes before the confessions, with the boys hiding in the attic- are some of the sweetest, and funniest, that Laurel and Hardy every filmed. Every nuance of the relationship between the two comedians is so perfect here. Hell, even Mae Busch's contribution is worthwhile. Stan is absolutely adorable, and you cheer him on as he gets his drink and cigarette from sweet but rather scary Dorothy Christy.
Aside from this final volley of genius though, my favourite moment in the film is a strange little nothing of a moment- Stan and Ollie take a cab back home after the convention. Once they exit the cab, the poor driver is first hit in the face by Stan's door, and then trips over Stan's bag. I don't even know who the cab driver is- it's over in a flash, but is just a perfect, superbly executed moment.

The Cook (Arbuckle / Keaton 1918)

I'm noticing already how much easier it is to write about the bad films than the good ones. I'll try and make an exception here. This is far from complete- there seem to be bits missing all over the shop- and it goes off the rails once everyone leaves the restaurant behind, but this is very, very good.
Arbuckle and Keaton are very much a double act by this point, pals onscreen and off. The chemistry between the two is undeniable, though you can see already that they were both too good and too big to stay a team for long. And every time I see Arbuckle I'm reminded that he was one of the absolute greats- at his best he is absolutely hypnotic. His little bits of business with the cleaver for example- so nonchalant, so absolutely cool. I wonder how many takes there were? The interplay between the two of them is elegantly choreographed- ultimately all they are doing is tossing food around, but it is done so economically and po-faced, as if this is just what they do every day, nothing special to see here, that you have to stand and applaud.
Arbuckle's a cook, Keaton a waiter, in a swank restaurant. Al St John comes along to cause trouble. Fatty's dog goes after him. They all end up at another amusement park. There's your storyline.
Al's appearance is very sudden, and nothing he does really makes a whole lot of sense- this is the point where you realize just how much of this must still be missing. To be honest, once they reach the fabled 'Goatland' it becomes a bit of a drag- everything becomes more frantic but less interesting. What has gone before is so very excellent though, that this hardly matters.
A big chunk of 'The Cook'- Fatty in drag- is apparently a pastiche of a lost Theda Bara film, and I think that tells us a little something about posterity and the fickleness of fame. For the pastiche to survive and the original to be gone- why, that's a little sad isn't it? Insert something here about candles and flames and- poof, just like that it's gone. Whatever's goin to make you happy.
The first reel of 'The Cook' is silent comedy at its best. Treasure it, be thankful we've got it, shed a little tear for Theda Bara.

Mighty Like A Moose (Chase 1926)

My God, to go from that pair of Ambrose films to this. This is the story of Mr and Mrs Moose, a couple of 'homely people'- he is buck-toothed, she has a bulbous nose. Without consulting each other, they have their hideous deformities fixed- afterwards, not only do they not recognize each other but they fall in love all over again. That central conceit- that after such minor operations they no longer have a clue who the other one is- is so gloriously and knowingly absurd that you just cheer it on.
To all extents and purposes this is a pantomime two-hander- you expect Chase to be great because he always is, he's dependable, but so is Vivien Oakland. Not only does she look stunning with her fashionable blonde short hair, but she plays it superbly- they work together so well in this film. It's all put together brilliantly as well- enormously well crafted with some great directorial touches. The polka scene in particular is perhaps the greatest piece of ensemble leg acting in cinema history. (Gale Henry is the polka dancer, and she's very good in this one short scene.) Leo McCarey directed this, and you can tell from every shot that this is a guy who really knew what he was doing. Silent slapstick shorts need great directors just like everyone else does. Don't neglect them: they need your support.
The film's climax is an extended fight scene between Chase and... himself. With teeth and without, as it were, and he pulls it off fantastically- he really is one of the greats and I'm admiring him so much in the films of his I'm seeing. If there's another Charley Chase film out there somewhere as good as this, bring it on- this was wonderful, and if there's a hall of fame for silent comedy this needs to be in it.

Ambrose's Fury (Swain 1915)

The prime concern of men in the first couple of decades in the last century was getting one over on their women. The documentary evidence for this is undeniable. Swain's on great form here- a much put-upon and bullied husband, he escapes for a day at the beach with the girl next door. It's like a one-reel Carry On film.
There's a- comparatively- huge cast to keep an eye on here, which can always be a bit bewildering when they're mostly new faces to you, and in all honesty I didn't have a clue what was going on after about the six minute mark. The whole thing turns into a farce with people swapping clothes and hiding under beds and running on and off screen. It would all be guesswork really if I tried to convey what was going on.
I like Mack Swain a lot, though there's always the sneaking suspicion that he feels he's slumming it a little, that this is all a bit beneath him. Well to be honest he'd be right here, but his expressions and general demeanour make him very watchable.
Conklin's part is small. As it were. And the film itself- I suspect I won't remember a single frame of it in a few weeks time.

Ambrose's Lofty Perch (Swain 1915)

Well now this is all very interesting. A kind of fantasy piece with Swain playing his usual role but transported to a land of kings and outlaws. Is it a fantasy or a medieval period piece? Or a melodramatic pastiche? In all honesty you won't care: it is dire.
Very, very sloppily put together, even by the standard of these things- pretty much the whole of the first four of five minutes is filmed from a single, awkward camera angle, and the actors- dancing girls mostly (and one thing in the film's favour is the surplus of cavorting females)- are herded in front of it and then led off again. Now if the material was ok this wouldn't matter but... it's not. The odd thing is that there aren't really any attempts at laughs. Ambrose has an arrow shot at his bottom. Seriously, that's it. That's your gag quota. Oh ok, there's some comedy stuff with a bomb. But whatever amusement you are going to find here will come from Swain's business, his expressions, but there's nothing in the material at all, nothing.
Swain is a king who wants a maiden to become his wife. The maiden's admiring fellah (who seems to be Robin Hood) comes along to rescue her. They had some costumes left over from another production you know, there's no other reason for any of this.
Really, really bad, but I feel it's going to haunt me like a dream.

Number, Please? (Lloyd 1920)

Searing and powerful indictment of 1920s telephone culture. This is great actually, a really good short, full of novel camerawork (all the merry-go-round suff- that's first-rate) and honest-to-goodness laughs. It starts actually with the biggest laugh of them all- tyrng to forget the lost love of his life, Harold seeks adventure on a rollercoaster- sitting in the last car he finds himself being hit by the flying hats of all the chaps from the cars in front. Well it plays better than it sounds, trust me.
It's another great silent fairgound film, this- they're always fascinating even when they're not funny, because you're being given such a delightful snapshot of the idle pleasures of another age. Glimpsing all the advertisements and the fashions- it's a joy watching this stuff, like a little time capsule. Smplest of plots- a girl, two rivals, and a dog. Who needs anything else? This was from the Mildred Davis era, and she's fine here, though a little under-used. Lloyd had some of the greatest leading ladies of the era, I think that goes without saying, but Mildred here is a cipher and nothing more. There's no character, no subtlety. She really is just The Girl and that's it. Even the otherwise rather anonymous Roy Brooks, the Rival, has the potential for a bit of back-story, a bit of hidden intrigue, but the Girl is... nothing. And, granted, perhaps that's intentional- there is no happy romantic conclusion here, because, after all, there was never any particular spark between them in the first place. The Boy is back on his fairground rides, a 1920s emo, Mildred and Roy and her cute little dog take a balloon-ride off into the sunset.
The central scene, the scene that gives the film its name, has the Boy trying to put a call through to the Girl's mother. It is a long scene with a simple premise, but it doesn't get tiresome, and again you're getting a little glimpse of a world that's long gone now.

An Eastern Westerner (Lloyd 1920)

A more rogueish Boy than we have become used to- rich and spoilt, he is sent West by his exasperated father to build character and prove himself a man. And out West he meets Mildred and her own ailing father, and character is built and the man is proven.
It's a strong Western this, though short on outright hilarity. The opening scene with Harold shimmying the night away at a 'shimmie dancing prohibited' nightclub is a quick glimpse of decadent civilization before the Boy heads off to horses, dust and gunfire. Here, Noah Young rules the town- big, burly and bullying, and with his own eye on Mildred Davis. Well, as if...
But the Boy not only lets down his father and shimmies when shimmying aint on, he's also not averse to cheating at cards, and while we're happy he gets his girl, it's hard to particularly care about this character. There was still some streamlining to be done I think before Lloyd completely nailed him.
The best moment is probably Harold practising his lassooing skills for the Girl's amusement- even here though the smile you'll have is a wry one rather than a carefree one. It's a neat film, well done, but it's not the one that's going to make you a Harold Lloyd fan.

Wandering Willies (Bevan / Clyde 1926)

Bevan is plump and moon-faced with a droopy caterpillar moustache. Clyde is a freaky-looking dude, mama, like a minstrel with half his facepaint scraped off. Both new to me. I'm learning though, I'm learning. Be patient.
They are a pair of wastrels on the scrounge here, but essentially this is a series of barely linked little sketches, with great imagination and variety. As the film reaches the final title you can't quite see how you've ended up here from there, but hell the journey's been fun. Bevan seems to be pretty much the lead man here, though they do work well as a pair- their styles are such that they can easily carry scenes on their own as well as together, and that's probably rarer than it seems with double acts.
Trying to pin a plot on this magnificent nonsense is hard- looking for free food they hit on the idea of one of them dressing up as a policeman while pushing the other round in a baby's carriage. Well, of course. Most obvious idea in the world. When that fails they find themselves in a pantomime cow costume that's about to be fed to the lions. And eventually they find some work. And that of course conveys not the merest essence of what's actually going on on the screen. There are magical little moments wherever you look- my favourite was Clyde trying to keep up with a police patrol wagon by pulling on a cop's braces, but let's be frank, everyone's going to have their favourite here. There's so much crammed into these two reels- sure it never reaches the heights of any of the great silent clowns, but just for sheer effort and imagination you have to love what's on offer here. And a Keystone cops chase to round it off too.

Hoi Polloi (Three Stooges 1935)

Early Stooges short, a kind of Pygmalion affair with the Stooges hitting society as a result of a rich man's bet.The cultural gap between the UK and the US when it comes to the Stooges is bewildering- I don't know anyone else in the UK who has even seen a Stooges film (I'm talkig about intimate acquaintances here, I've not been out doing nationwide surveys or anything...), yet they seem part of the national heritage in the States. Which for me at least is a good thing, cos I'm coming to these things fresh. No baggage at all. And there's plenty here that's really funny. So do they still get regularly shown over there? Do schoolchildren know who they are? Important questions, important questions. In an odd way their casual violence, I'm sure, has been their undoing with regards to the UK (yeah, like they ever would have cared...)- however innocent, integral and cartoon-like, this kind of thing could never be sanctioned on our well-bred television screens! And you know what? That can make them seem a little bit dangerous even now.
The Pygmalion experiment fails of course- the flirtation with Society is a disaster. And yet perversely the best moment here is the outbreak of copycat Stooge violence that takes over the posh gathering as they make their final exit- the primal balance has been restored. The best moment, but perhaps not the funniest- that is surely the glorious scene where the Stooges are being lessoned in dance and their instructress falls victim to a wasp down her cleavage. This is the kind of silly slapstick that will always be a winner wherever it is shown.
I've seen about half a dozen Stooges films, all early ones, and like them all without coming close to loving them. This might have been the best of the batch so far. I still need to learn which Stooge is which though. British TV has left me down once again.

Fluttering Hearts (Chase 1927)

Chase is surely one of the most amiable of silent comedians (and one of the few that you could never refer to as a silent clown- he's just too suave and dashing for that)- here he is a self-made young millionaire who has to pretend, for predictably convoluted reasons, to be a chauffeur, in order to win the approval of a young charmer's father. It flits by like an innocent breeze, and Charley reeks of charisma even now. You do feel he could play well to modern audiences, certainly every bit as much as, say, Harold Lloyd, whose character seems more firmly rooted in the ambitions and hang-ups of the period.
The opening half drags rather, despite benefiting hugely from a turn as a good-natured cop by the irresistible Eugene Pallette. The silent movie policeman is a maligned and rarely well-represented character, but Pallette's cop is great, and he plays a lovely part in getting the two lovebirds together. The key scene early on though is a rather overblown drapery store scene, full of squabbling women and scenes of ass-kickin' 20s ultraviolence (well, to a degree...)- this may well have worked okay in cinemas with the laughter of a room full of people to sustain it, but it really drags now and doesn't even work towards any great pay-off. Fortunately the stuff to come, especially Charley's dance with the mannequin, and the rosy-faced Oliver Hardy flirting with the mannequin, more than compensate.
The score on the DVD I've seen was really lovely, but spoilt but a bunch of hugely annoying sound effects- who could possibly have thought these were a good idea?

I Do (Lloyd 1921)

Harold and Mildred learn something of the perils of parenthood. Married for a year, they are given the task of babysitting a couple of unpleasant little 'uns for a night- tie this in with rumours of a burglar in the neighbourhood and a fun night is on the cards. It's enjoyable and has quite a dark side- the elder of the children isn't just cheeky, he's downright malevolent- but all the way through I was thinking: well, you know, it could be better.
I didn't laugh much, I know that.
And some of the gags I didn't even get. I can kinda fit pieces together now and surmise that most of the early stuff in the film like the young lovers pushing around some kind of cask in a pram, and a whole procession of young men coming out of the same house pushing prams- well I'm guessing that this is about prohibition or something, yeah? Ah, silent comedy. A medium that was specicifically aimed at, let's be frank here, the widest popular culture audience imagineable, ultimately pretty much a lowest common denominator kind of thing, but separate yourself from the source by a few long decades and you may as well be tying to modernize Chaucer. Well, you get my drift. What was dumb fun then can take a little brainpower now.
There's a curious, very brief, animated episode in here- the wedding service of Harold and Mildred, and so unexpected is it that it may just be the highpoint of the film. It isn't funny, but it's quirky and sometimes that's enough. A lot of the business with the children, especially the baby's milk- hell, it's ok, it's just a litlle pedestrian, a little uninspired. You see Harold Lloyd on the screen, that great iconic figure, and pedestrian and uninspired just isn't enough.

Fatty's Spooning Days (Mabel, Fatty and the Law) (Arbuckle / Normand 1915)

Spooning, I'm assuming, is an Americanism, and presumably an Americanism anachronism, for any kind of flirting or courting behaviour? The great, silly premise for this one-reeler is that absolutely anything of this nature is forbidden in a big, public (but suspiciously empty) park. Fatty and Harry Gribbon and their respective wives end up in this big, public park, not only spooning like there's no tomorrow, but also spooning with each other's partners. Spooning- I like this term, I'm going to be using it more often.
All four of them end up in the police station, having to pay hefty fines. That's your entire plot, to be frank, save for a bit of nonsense with a couple of maids early on. The idea of the police, in great numbers, loitering around the park just waiting to pounce on devious spooners is such a lovely one- it's dumb and cheeky, but it knows it's dumb and cheeky and is so brazen about it you just don't care.
Harry Gribbon I don't think I've seen before- he's very tall and slightly rubbery faced and faux-elegant, and he seems of a different time altogether, as if he's just been plonked down in the middle of 'Fatty's Spooning Days' from his safe house in the 40s, the 60s, the 90s even. I like him, he's got a certain something. Mabel has looked better than she does here, I have to say. She's a little dowdy, a little plain- maybe it's the outfit. There's some great pantomime between her and Gribbon though, and the four leading players- with the Keystone cops supporting them in a relatively subdued and subtle manner- make this very enjoyable. You're not going to fall out of your chair, but neither will you have the slightest inclination to turn away from the screen of your choosing.

Ambrose's Nasty Temper (Swain 1915)

Quite liking Mack Swain- he's an overgrown bear of a man, but also an ordinary joe wih a put-upon kind of face. Ultimately he's a grotesque and you can't quite understand how his career ever took off, while being quite pleased it did. No-one else in this quirky short is particularly distinguished, though I guess the harsh 'mother' fulflls her job description successfully.
Ambrose is fired from some sweatshop kind of place after flirting with the boss's daughter and becoming physically entangled with his disagreeable wife- outraged he hires a couple of first-rate toughs to get his revenge and wreak some vengeance. And here we're on dodgy ground- there's something seedy about this revenge episode, especially as it's the innocent daughter who ends up suggestively tied and mannacled and then left to drown. But this is a good mix of low farce and honest to goodness Perils of Pauline stuff as Ambrose rescue the pretty girl from drowning. Very enjoyable if low on humour.

Fatty's Suitless Day (Fatty's Magic Pants) (Arbuckle 1914)

Having just noticed on IMDB that that's Charley Chase- Charley Chase!- playing Fatty's romantic rival here, there's a temptation, I've got to be honest with you, to go back and watch it again. I never would have known- passed me by completely. I'm going to have to start studying these cast lists before I watch the films, because I'm obviously still out of my depth here.
This is also the first truly silent film I've seen- whether the DVD had no sound to start with or I've just ended up with a dodgy copy I couldn't say, but I had to hum to myself to keep my ears busy. The lack of music makes a huge difference actually, especially as my bulging CD collection doesn't really throw up anything that would fit the piece.
Fatty wants to take his girl to a charity ball- it's an evening dress affair though, and evening dress he does not have. Fortunately his rival for the girl's affections- Charley Chase!- is over-endowed in the evening dress department, and so Fatty hatches his plan. The upshot of it all is that Fatty ends up mid-ball sans trousers, and what's interesting is that Fatty well and truly gets his comeuppance here- this surely isn't what we, the discriminating viewer, want though is it? Of the two lovers he's the one with wit and grace- he's the chap we want to see come out on top. Admittedly no-one involved really had an honest idea how to end this though, because the whole conclusion is the work of a tired, harrassed hack.
Some good bits in here- there's a good comical fight scene between the suitors, and Fatty has a jaunty trick of throwing a top hat onto his head that is worth pausing the DVD and re-viewing. He makes a first rate toff as well does Fatty- he is always so watchable, and as much of a ballet dancer as Chaplin ever was.

When Ambrose Dared The Walrus (Mack Swain / Chester Conklin 1915)

I couldn't keep my eyes off the tight acrobat's costume Vivian Edwards was wearing- seriously, this is unexpectedly risqué, and is to be counted in the film's credit column.
Swain is Ambrose, a big man with a wee stuck-on moustache, Conklin is the Walrus, a skinny chap with a big stuck-on moustache. Such is my daisy-like freshness in this field, I don't think I've seen either of them before. Hopefully I'll look back on that statement with incredulity over the next few months as I discover the high and lows of their respective filmographies. Neither of them seem exactly hilarious individually, but together on screen they are watchable- the last few minutes of the film have a particular resonance as they engage in a bittersweet sort of fight, the Walrus' hotel burning down behind them.
The DVD I've got of this is very dark and the intertitles at times are unreadable- this doesn't help an already confusing film become more coherent. At no times is 'When Ambrose Dared The Walrus' a drag though- once the story settles down and you grab the gist of what's happening, the time passes quickly, and if there are no moments of outright hilarity here, there are eyecatching ideas. As it were.
The Walrus runs a hotel, Ambrose and his perky acrobatic assstant are paying guests. The narrative concerns a fire insurance on the property, and the last chunk of the film is taken up with the Walrus trying to make his last payment before the hotel burns down. They certainly did things differently back then, especially at Keystone- the pace is remarkable, bewilderingly so watching now when you're left floundering trying to work out who is who, and who the girls are, and what their relationships are etc. Best not to worry. It really doesn't drag at all, and I'd be happy to watch the two of them in another film. I get the feeling that the more you see of them, the more appealing they are going to be. Especially if Vivian Edwards is in there somewhere as well.

Saps At Sea (Laurel & Hardy 1940)

Now this is lovely. It really is though, and I know I'm going against the grain somewhat here. Sure, it's hugely flawed, but by reputation the Boys were well into their decline by this point, and if you take 'Saps at Sea' purely on its own terms and snip out the wider historical overview completely I don't see how you can deny that it is really good fun. And you get a proper climactic fight too, with Ollie giving Nick the convict a pasting!
Ben Turpin has a wee cameo, Fin has a glorious scene as a doctor, and Harry Langdon was on the writing staff- this is like a last hurrah for the silent era. Even the goat's face rings a bell.
Ollie has a breakdown in a horn factory (yeah, the whole idea of the horn factory and the production line approach- I think disbelief has to get suspended here a bit...) and is prescribed a nice sea voyage by Doctor Fin. Unfortunately Ollie and Stan's ramshackle little craft has a murderous stowaway on board. There's not a whole lot more to it than that, but gags are milked at every opportunity, and most of them work well, even if they can be a tad familiar. The bunk scene for instance, with the goat in Stan's bed- this is done beautifully, tenderly even. Sure you're not dealing with material of the highest originality, but so often with Laurel and Hardy the appeal- damn it, let's come straight out and say it, the MAGIC- is as much to do with the chemistry, the performances, the subtleties of the interplay, as it is to do with the material the comedians happen to be performing with. You're left with an approach to comedy and an approach to entertaining the audience that transcends the film itself- hence the base level of quality for any Laurel and Hardy film is going to be significantly higher than it is going to be for, say, a Three Stooges film (and I've got no intention of getting all anti-Three Stooges here- they can at least be mentioned in the same sentence as Laurel and Hardy, and that's not to be sniffed at...) Practically none of their mature films, up to about the time of 'Saps at Sea', could be considered a failure, let alone could be regarded as unwatchable. Compare that with what was to come once Stan's artistic input was thrown out with the dishwater.
No, not a masterpiece, but hugely fun.

Block-Heads (Laurel & Hardy 1938)

'Block-Heads' was one of the first Laurel and Hardy films I remember watching, but I don't think that's the only reason it means to much to me. I do find it curious that it isn't more highly regarded- I realize that it isn't quite spoken of in the same breath as some of the 40's atrocities, but neither has it been admitted to the top rank of Laurel and Hardy features. I understand that it is, to put it politely, derivaitive, and that it does tail of into bit of a shouty final quarter or so, but the first half an hour is just an unstoppable barrage of first-rate gags and really clever ideas, and the Boys (note the capitalization there...) are performing just wonderfully. Moments like: Ollie's disbelief at seeing Stan's picture in the photo, and his repeated double-backs to check that he isn't mistaken, Stan leaping back into Ollie's arms after the Garage Incident, the rapid descent of the apartment building's staircase ('There's going to be a fight...'). These are all small bits and pieces rather than the Big Gags, but they are all crafted so beautifully and, as far I'm concerned, should be enough to elevate 'Block-Heads' a little higher in the collective consciousness.
Twenty years after Armistice Day Stan finally learns the war is over, and he can return home. Touchingly, Ollie is overjoyed to be reunited with his old army pal, though the novelty soon wears off as Stan destroys his home and his marriage. Minna Gombell is the wife, and is unfortunately rather draining as the wife. But, to give her due, she is only playing the part as written. It's a shame as there is some subtlety about her early on- the breakfast scene between Mr and Mrs Hardy on their anniversary is rather sweet, with humour and genuine affection, but from then on she is allowed to be nothing more or less than a shrill charicature, and her 'humorous' shouting matches with her husband could bring a migraine on. More interesting is Patricia Ellis from across the hall- she is playing a type we're not really used to seeing in Laurel and Hardy films, elegant and unflappable, and while there's a reason we don't see this type of character too often, she is like a breath of fresh air here. The courtship and romance of Mr and Mrs Gilbert would make a fascinating short subject in itself I feel.

Liberty (Laurel & Hardy 1929)

Now this the 7 year old loved. And with good reason of course. Admittedly it was the intertitle about the boys changing their pants that set her off (ah, the perils of our very-nearly-shared language), but there was plenty of fairly earned merriment later on too. What was interesting though, watching it with her, was that she found the scaffolding scene genuinely involving and exciting- and in all fairness I must take my leave from her at that point, though that I guess is the difference between being 7 and being... significantly older than 7.
So- after a presumed jailbreak, Stan and Ollie find themselves wearing each other's trousers. And Stan, adding a humorous wee exclamation point to this, also has a crab in his pair. Or Ollie's pair, depending on how you look at it. Two substantial extended episodes then- trying to exchange their trousers in public, and then trying to hold on to their liberty (and their lives) perched atop a skyscraper mid-construction. It's very good, very funny, from start to finish- Stan's clowning, crab down his trousers, is a joy to behold. It is not, after all, a subtle gag, but he somehow brings subtlety to it, and also a curious sense of confused beauty. There's something haunting about the repetition of his utterly bewildered face as he tries, and fails, to understand exactly what is going on.
There's a brief cameo from dear old Fin as a shopkeeper having his pile of records destroyed, but it is a curiously half-hearted scene, an afterthought almost, as if everyone was readying themselves for the scaffolding scenes to come.

Saturday Afternoon (Langdon 1926)

An acquired taste you know, Langdon. Everyone says so. It does seem to be one of those truths universally acnowledged. And yeah I guess there is some truth there, and yeah I'd probably have to say that I'm still in the process of acquiring that taste. I'm not quite in the position still where I can load up a DVD of one of his films that I haven't seen before with a smile of pure boundless enthusiasm on my face. That said, this film has helped the process along considerably- it's a really sweet, funny, wonderful film, and Langdon's character makes sense. I'm not sure, from what I've seen elsewhere- and as I'm hinting, my experience of Langdon so far isn't vast- that that's always the case.
He has a dragon of a wife at home here, but a dragon in the Laurel and Hardy tradition- slim and beautiful, but stern-faced and entirely in charge of her man. At the end of a hard morning's work, a rogueish pal (Vernon Dent, who looks like Ronnie Barker hamming it up) encourages Harry to slip away from his wife and go on a double-date. Harry kep a coin or two back from his paycheck and obliges. The date is not a storybook one, but Harry and wife are reconciled at the end.
There are huge similarities between Harry and Stan Laurel you know- it's obvious even to a novice schlapstick schmuck like me. I think particularly in the way Harry knows he wants to be with these girls without entirely knowing why, or knowing what he's going to do with them once he's got them. There's a lovely moment where Harry and his date are walking down the street, and flirting in such an innocent pre-pubescent way. It's probably best not to analyse this stuff too much but there's something invigorating and life-affirming about this moment, and the rest of the movie around it.
The car scene at the end, with Harry unknowingly straddled between two automobiles (what do you call those bits at the sides of old cars? something damn obvious I'm sure) is neatly done too. But I think it's the feel of the film as a whole rather than the contributing moments that makes this so satisfying- if there are more Harry Langdon films like this around I'm going to be happy.

The Haunted House (Keaton 1921)

The last two or three Keaton shorts I've seen have been in the company of my 7 year old daughter, and I don't know whether it's the absence of her big grinning face for this one or the quality of the film itself that has left me a bit underwhelmed. And let's say from the off here that the concept of being 'underwhelmed' is a relative one- this is still Keaton and by no means is this just Keaton going through the motions. I think ultimately the problem with 'The Haunted House' is that it is basically two scenarios crammed into one film, and alas one of the scenarios is far more successful than the other. It's called 'The Haunted House' and not 'Glue in the Bank' for a reason.
Buster then is a bank cashier- one of his fellow cashiers is planning a heist and Buster gets framed for it. He ends up in a house that may or not be haunted alongside the gang of bankjob criminals and an opera troupe on the run. Okayyyy... Now the bank stuff is fine, it really is. There's some good inventive business with Buster opening up the bank and the payoff to the glue sequence- the 'hands up' bit- is sheer genius. But by golly the glue scene itself is a tirseome one. The idea is that Buster- bank cashier remember- gets glue all over his hands as he's handing out banknotes. (D'oh! How did dat happen?!) Frustration and hilarity ensue. Except that there's a whole lot more frustration than hilarity- it's a neat enough idea I guess, but it just doesn't play too well.
Fortunately once the haunted house shenanigans begin we move to a whole different level entirely. Buster and Eddie really do cram in every spooky gag they can think of here- and most of them work too. The level of constant invention is so impressive- the sequence by the staircase with the 'ghost' and the opera singer swapping places is a particular favourite.
So can we not just snip out the first reel or so completely? It's not as if it provides much of a set-up for the haunted house escapades anyway...

Mabel's Wilful Way (Normand / Arbuckle 1915)

This is a joy, especially coming on the back of 'That Little Band Of Gold' which was pleasant enough without ever coming close to knocking anything out of the park. They cram so much into ten minutes here! Now admittedly some of this is stuff you find yourself watching with your jaw slung low on the floor, but we are going to have to make some cultural allowances I think if we are intent on furthering this relationship...
Now the venerable IMDB is telling me that Al St John is playing 'vendor' here and Edgar Kennedy 'Fatty's pal' but even my slim knowledge of silent comedies is enough for me to stand here and bravely tell you that Al St John is Fatty's partner here. Fatty and Al then have a day's entertainment at the amusement park with straggly haired Mabel and her straight-laced folks. Bored at afternoon tea, Mabel wanders off from her guardians and encounters the rival lovers who proceed to battle each other- and anyone else who crosses their paths- for the girl's affections. Mabel ends up with a smacked bottom from her parents. This is far from being the oddest or most noteworthy moment in the film however.
You get, for yer money, an ice-cream eating bear, a horrendously bullied black chap, a practically psychotic cop, and an ingenious reversed-film fairground ride. I think more than anything else though you get a feeling of innocence (squirm inducing racism aside- though could we argue that the film-makers are only capturing what presumably was an example of a genuine fairground attraction? no, probably not...) and a feeling that this is young, brave, fearless America and anything's possible. The whole thing is lovely- fresh and spontaneous, just a good old-fashioned day at the fair turned into a single reel of gold.

That Little Band Of Gold (Arbuckle / Normand 1915)

Arbuckle- how do we refer to him these days? Bear with me, my knowledge in these matters still aint great. Roscoe or Fatty- which is it to be? My heart says Roscoe, but damnit all he made his money as Fatty and he never seemed to have a problem with it (correct me, please correct me, if I'm wrong...) So Fatty, for now, it is. The only films of his I'd seen before this one were a batch of the Keaton shorts, and this I don't think is quite in that class. But that's ok, that's no great shame, I loved those films- 'That Little Band of Gold' doesn't need to be feeling too inadequate. And this is my first glimpse of Mabel Normand (second glimpse shortly to follow (now read on dot dot dot)). And she's eye-catching. She's not exactly forgotten these days, but people, the general public, just know her as a name now don't they? How many people out of a hundred would recognize her picture, let alone be able to name one of her films?
This is a bright two-reeler of romantic entanglements and lazy diversions. Arbuckle (that's Fatty to you, my friend) and Normand are newly married, but he has a wandering eye and enjoys a decadent life, and he soon begins to stray. Ford Sterling is the over-acting friend / rival whose paramour he takes up with. There is a long opera house scene which, despite offering no amusing moments whatsoever, is culturally fascinating- our band of heroes seem to have been plunked down in the middle of a genuine opera audience and so we end up with our own little slice of cinéma vérité. It's fun to watch their get-up and reactions.
Fatty is the antithesis of Chaplin here- was this a standard character for him? Rich and pampered, he lives in a mansion surrounded by servants, and he lives in his own moral vacuum, existing for his own hedonistic pleasures alone. Sure he ends up with Mabel again at the film's conclusion, but how many people are buying that as a long-term commitment? Jeremy Kyle surely beckons a few months down the line. We never learn what it is that allows him to live this extravagant lifestyle either. The film's highlight, probably the only moment (for all Arbuckle and Normand's genuine charisma and chemistry) that you'd want to revisit, is a scene of first-rate clowning with Fatty and his new wife's scandalized mother.