Never Weaken (Lloyd 1921)

My new favourite Harold Lloyd film. Three reels and perhaps the most impressive thing about it is that for a long stretch Lloyd is carrying it on his own. Well, him and a stuntman I guess. But it's his charisma that carries the film through.
Believing he's lost his girl to another man (though the Other Man is her brother, and a vicar to boot), Harold sets about trying to do away with himself. And as is the nature of things, learns how precious life is as a result (though it is never expressed in such a corny fashion on the sreen).
The big scene is Harold clambering atop a partly built skyscraper, a set-piece that presumably isnpired Laurel and Hardy's 'Liberty!', though they added some twists there of their own. I certainly don't see that as being derivative after watching this. What is remarkable though is how genuinely exciting this stuff is- if you've got any sympathy with the character or with the film at all then it's real heart-in-the-mouth stuff. I think the stuntwork in Harold Lloyd films can be taken for granted: that's what he does isn't he? He's the silent comedian with the Big Stunts. But the ten minutes or so of dizzying action here is hugely impressive.
Lloyd is the All-American go-getter, the optimist, the believer in the dream, and that is the character we get early on here as he does everything in his power to keep his girl in a job. And even after he mistakes her intentions and sets his mind on suicide, his heart isn't really in it. His is a character built for Life, and at his best there's no-one like him. Particularly great bits in a film top-heavy with them: the street acrobat scam, the slippery street, the poisoning attempt. Not going to into details- no spoilers needed for stuff I'm sure to watch again. 

Laughing Gravy (Laurel & Hardy 1931)

Well now just the oddest Stan and Ollie film I've seen so far, no doubt about that. There seem to be different versions about, but the one I've just enjoyed every second of was the three-reel colorised version, and the color / colour is just lovely- it looks so fresh and warm. No idea how these colorisations are regarded in the Laurel and Hardy community, though I think generally they are not thought of as a Good Thing, but here at least it adds to the charm immeasurably.
Laughing Gravy is a dog, Stan's dog- the boys are living in a rented room and keeping him secret from landlord Charlie Hall. And for thirty minutes that's pretty much your cast- Stan, Ollie, Laughing Gracy and Charlie Hall. The first two reels are the boys' attempts to keep their secret from Charlie, the final reel is what happens after they've been thrown out and are packing their belongings. And it's this final ten minutes that is so beautiful and extraordinary. Stan receives a letter explaining that a relative had died, leaving him a fortune- on the condition that he breaks off all ties with Ollie. It's rare to find such a prolonged, gentle examination of their relationship as this: I really can't think of anything else like it. Funny, tender and dark, this final reel dips a toe into the river of poetry, and I think it's lovely, I really do.
And then: just as we are recovering from this unexpected detour, the landlord kills himself. There is some odd territory being explored here, and though I can't honestly argue for this as one of the funniest Laurel and Hardy films, I would suggest that it's one of their films that anyone with a passing interest in their art needs to see.

The Garage (Arbuckle / Keaton 1920)

I could have watched this all day. You know, I think some consideration should be given to Fatty and Buster as the greatest comedy team of all time. I don't care if they only made- what was it?- 14 short films: they were fantastic together. This has got just about everything- perhaps a marginally more appealing leading lady and it would have been perfect.
The boys work as garage attendants-cum-firemen. You know, I'm not convinced that these duties were ever routinely combined, but there you go. After a busy morning cleaning Fords and fleecing customers, they are off out battling fires in the afternon, while the boss's daughter enjoys a complicated love life around them. Admittedly there do seem to be rather a lot of disparate elements thrown together here, and, no, it doesn't particularly hang together very well, but for goodness sake, you're not going to get a better sign of quality than the names of Arbuckle and Keaton in the credits, and 'The Garage's is just great.
The funniest little episode is probably the bit with the rotating car drying device (if it has an accepted name, I have no idea what it is)- it's fascinating here to compare and contrast the differing physical styles of the comedians, and how well they use their bodies. Arbuckle was every bit as much a physical comedian as Buster, but their whole approach to their gags was very different. Lovely moment too with Buster's tribute to Harry Lauder- really beautiful, and had me looking Sir Harry up on Wikipedia. Had no idea how famous he was at the time.
Just a quick note on the music on the Masters of Cinema DVD of this- well, actually not the music itself, that's tolerable, but the constant irritating sound effects: whistles and musical 'comments' on what's happening on screen. You will want to turn the sound off.

Easy Street (Chaplin 1917)

One more chance then.
And I'm glad I watched 'Easy Street', because this is great. I think the first thing to say is that it's got a structure, a satisfying structure- beginning, middle, end. And the humour has a resonance because of that.
Charlie, the tramp, is inspired by religion (and Edna)- he becomes a cop on the unruly Easy Street, lorded over by bully Eric Campbell. Taming the bully, he transforms Easy Street and brings hope (and religion) (and Edna) to the community. Yeah, so stripped bare like that it sounds a bit corny, but it works just fine. The heart of the film is the encounter with Campbell, and this is so well done. The initial scene between them is one long take- the cop patrolling his new beat, becoming aware of this huge bruiser of a man prowling around, and then the cop's attempts to act nonchalant as his movements are aggressively mirrored- it isn't hilarious, but it's so beautifully done, really precise and powerful. Each situation in the film develops from the last- structure again. The final scene is a ludicrously rose-tinted glasses view of the world of course, but that's okay- it's charming, and by this point in the film you're ready to embrace it.
There's something genuine too in the transformation of Charlie's character here- on the simplest level he gets his redemption when he returns the collection box to the church, but there is genuine development in his worldview too. At the onset, he is is his own universe- his hunger and his poverty: there is nothing beyond that. He grows from exisiting for himself to his moment of misguided 'charity' with the bully's wife, and from here to his attainment of 'power', a power he uses over the community as a unifying force. That's what the love of a good woman can do. I think the film's implying that that's what religion can do as well, but I'm not sold on the sincerity of this implication.  

The Kid (Chaplin 1921)

No question that Chaplin was blessed by the presence of Jackie Coogan here- 'The Kid' is unthinkable without him, and that much-abused word 'chemistry' is evident in every scene they share together. 'The Kid' is a blend of slapstick and sentiment as we all know, but it's important to note I think just how affecting the sentiment can be. My wee seven year old companion was snuffling beside me. The two lead perforamnces seem so modern as well- so fresh and full of vigour. And I think that rather shows up Edna Purviance I'm afraid, who is Dramatic Silent Actress here and no more. Granted, that's all Chaplin really asked of her, but watching the film 90 years on there's no question who's been left behind.
It's a long, long time since I've watched a Chaplin film and I don't recall 'The Kid' being a particular favourite back in the day, but I enjoyed it, and the scenes that worked the best- the fantastic streetfight scene in particular- are absolute showstopers. The dream scene towards the end though? You can keep that. There's self-indulgence writ large for you. Charles Reisner plays Chaplin's striking fight opponent.

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.

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.

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.

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.