Now Playing: Adultery!

 

As hard as it might be to believe, a silent film melodrama once used a silly plot twist that would later become crucial to Laurel & Hardy's Sons of the Desert (1933).  In Louis Feuillade's Tragic Error (1913), a husband goes to the movies one afternoon and sees his wife on screen in the arms of another man. 

   

By this time, the plot had already been used in a Biograph comedy.  Certainly, the idea of an untrue spouse being exposed in footage exhibited at the local theatre is good for a laugh.   It is hard to believe that a filmmaker as reputable as Feuillade thought that theatergoers would take this type of plot seriously.  It is no surprise, then, that the plot would be returned to the comedy makers, who would make use of it extensively for the next several decades.  

Lame Brains and Lunatics

 

Steve Massa's Lame Brains and Lunatics, which brings to light an assortment of talented, hardworking and groundbreaking film comedians that long ago vanished into the mists of time, is sure to deliver readers into the deepest depths of film comedy history.  The mist-clearing is handled well by Massa, who has devoted 45 years to the study of silent film comedy.  A lame brain will fail to see the value in the excellent chapters on Billie Ritchie, Marcel Perez, Lige Conley, and others too numerous to mention.  A lunatic will be unable to appreciate the exhaustive research that went into the selected filmographies.  But everyone else will, without a doubt, enjoy the book.

Lame Brains and Lunatics is rich in biographical detail.  Massa writes about these performers with great knowledge and sensitivity.  He has a particular soft spot for the ladies, which is evident in his chapters on Alice Howell, Gale Henry, Marie Dressler and Fay Tincher.

I am a big believer in drawing attention to lesser known film comedians, but you know that Massa is the ultimate champion of the underdog when you see that his book includes a chapter on cross-eyed comedian George Rowe.  Rowe worked from 1919 to 1925 at the Hal Roach studio, where he turned up as a supporting player in various series.  The frequent appearances that he made to assist Roach's comic leads, including Snub Pollard, Stan Laurel, Eddie Boland and Paul Parrott, were almost guaranteed to get a laugh.  Realize that, in the silent film comedy hierarchy, Rowe ranks below Eddie Boland.  "Eddie, who?" you ask.  Exactly. 

 

It is hard, when taking into the consideration the many comedians that populated silent films, to work out a proper hierarchy.  Where, for example, do you fit Jack Cooper or Sid Smith?  Let's use Smith as an example.  Smith was consistently featured in lead roles in short comedies from the time he entered the film industry in 1913 to his death of alcohol poisoning in 1928.  The diminutive comedian with the pencil-thin moustache was trusted to head up ably crafted campaigns of comic mayhem by most of the major producers, including Mack Sennett, Jack White and Al Christie.  The comedian's greatest success came starring in the "Hall Room Boys" for Harry Cohn from 1919 to 1923.  But Smith is barely remembered today and, frankly, I could not make a case that he deserves to be rediscovered.  I admit that I have been able to see little of his work, but what I have seen has left me cold.  But Massa offers such passionate and eloquent accolades in reference to Smith that I am compelled to rethink my evaluation.  Massa is the James Herriot of silent film comedy.  He has an undying appreciation of all comedians great and small.

Massa has a special talent for describing the grotesque figures that populated silent film comedy.  I like, for instance, when he describes Rowe as being "made up of odd mismatching parts" and proceeds to catalog a rich assortment of freakish traits.  It makes it clear that the funny, heavily made-up characters that showed up in many silent comedies were as weird and wonderful as something out of a carnival sideshow. 

Massa has gained extraordinary access to archive prints and research materials.  I am envious that Massa has had the opportunity to see a number of Marcel Perez's US releases, including You're Next (1919) and Sweet Daddy (1921).  I have seen Perez's A Busy Night (1916), which is extraordinary.

I have never seen a review of a film book in which the photos were specifically reviewed, but I was captivated by the many rare photos in this book.  Sometimes, nothing can make a point better than an illustration.  Many have recognized the influence that Harry Langdon had on Stan Laurel, but this will become more apparent if you turn to page 336 and take a look at a still of a hesitant, white-faced Laurel from A Manadrin Mix-up (1924).  You might have heard that the 1925 pairing of Oliver Hardy and Bobby Ray anticipated Hardy's epic partnership with Laurel.  Turn to page 256 and see a Laurel & Hardy-style image from Hardy and Ray's Hey, Taxi (1925), which resolves any possible dispute on the matter. 

Okay, fine, I have said enough.  Buy it!

The Lethal North American Spitting Woodpecker

I wrote in Eighteen Comedians of Silent Film about Larry Semon's obsession with squirting critters. I recently discovered two more instances in which these wildlife anomalies turned up in a Semon film.

Frank Alexander vs. a baby alligator in School Days (1920)

Larry Semon vs. a woodpecker in A Simple Sap (1928)

What is woodpecker spew made of exactly?

"Hey, Beertender, Give me another Martoonie!"

According to Twentieth Century Fox publicists, a highlight of the upcoming comedy The Heat (2013) is a drunk scene performed by Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy.  Here is a snippet that appears in the trailer. 

It is considered politically incorrect today to make fun of alcoholics.  By modern standards, a funny drunk scene is only acceptable if it's made clear that the drunk character doesn't have a chronic problem with alcohol.  The character may drink excessively to cope with a dismal event, maybe a breakup or a job loss, or they may overindulge in drink while celebrating a special occasion like a birthday or a wedding.  The clear implication is that these "drowning sorrows" or "cutting loose" episodes are not part of the character's daily routine.  Bullock and McCarthy get drunk to vent frustrations and bond with one another.

At one time, Hollywood studios valued comic actors who could act habitually drunk on screen.  These actors played characters who didn't need a special occasion or a personal set-back to drink.  Having to live on this planet was reason enough to down a few shots.  My all-time favorite movie drunk is Arthur Housmen, who made his debut as screen souse extraordinaire in Harold Lloyd's Feet First (1930).  The actor continued to appear as drunks up until his last film, Public Enemies (1941), which was shot just months before his death.  

Arthur Housmen in Gridiron Flash (1934) 

Arthur Housmen in Scram (1932)

Housman's top rival was natty Jack Norton.  Norton played a drunk in his first feature film, Finishing School (1934), and appeared as a drunk in his last public appearance on "The Jackie Gleason Show" in 1955.  That's 21 years of slurred words and fumbled steps from Norton.  If they ever create a Movie Drunk Hall of Fame, I will nominate this great old comic actor for a longevity award.  They could call the award the Lifetime * hiccup* Achievement Award.

Jack Norton in The Bank Dick (1940)

The funny drunk was phased out in the 1970s.  The last of the funny drunks were Dick Wilson and Jack Perkins.

Dick Wilson on Bewitched ("A Bunny For Tabitha," 1969)

Dick Wilson on Alice ("The Fourth Time Around," 1976)

Jack Perkins on The Odd Couple ("Felix The Calypso Singer," 1971)

Jack Perkins on All in the Family ("Archie Is Worried About His Job," 1971)

Attitudes changed in the 1980s and 1990s.  British comedian Willie Ross now conveyed a disturbing darkness in his frequent portrayals of drunks.

 

Rita, Sue and Bob Too! (1987)

One Foot In The Grave ("The Return Of The Speckled Band," 1990)

Our Friends in the North (1996)

Our Mutual Friend (1998)  

Allan Fish paid tribute to Ross on the blog Wonders in the Dark.  Fish wrote, "Sadly, in 2000, life imitated art, as it is wont to do.  [Ross] was killed in a fall down his stairs at home.  Drunk, naturally."

It may be due to political correctness that The Heat scene is never called a "drunk scene" in interviews and promotional releases.  It is consistently referred to as "the bar scene," as if the setting is more significant than the behavior.

A Stinky Prank

A common routine in silent films had a sloppy eater accidentally dropping a sardine into someone's shoe, causing the person to be pursued by cats, or a prankster slipping Limburger cheese into someone's coat pocket, causing the person to go about their day emitting a bad odor.  Typical was When Slippery Slim Bought the Cheese (1915), in which Slim (Victor Potel) happily prepares for a date without realizing that Mustang Pete (Harry Todd) has hidden Limburger cheese in his pocket.  I was recently able to find a precedent for these routines that dates back to 1882.  A comedy sketch, which was part of a Broadway play called Squatter Sovereignty, dealt with an Irish immigrant who is unaware he has had a fish tied to his back as an April Fool's prank. 

For Art's Sake: The Biography & Filmography of Ben Turpin

It's here!  Steve Rydzewski's long-awaited biography of Ben Turpin has been released for the pleasure and enlightenment of film comedy enthusiasts everywhere.

The book had me hooked as soon as I got to the first chapter and came upon a 1867 wood engraving of a New Orleans candy shop owned by Turpin's father, Ernest Turpin.  Outside the shop was horse-drawn carriages, men in top hats and frock coats, and ladies in bustles.  The image immediately took me back in time, which is exactly what a book about the past is supposed to do, and it made me trust that Rydzewski (who I personally know as "Steve") did his homework to find every last bit of information available on Turpin's family history.  Without a doubt, the book is a labor of love by Rydzewski, who devoted 40 years to the research of this beloved comedy icon.

Turpin began his film career as the Essanay Studios' comedy front man in 1907.  He became a familiar face on movie screens before the American public got its first look at other homegrown film comedy pioneers, including John Bunny, Billy Quirk and John Cumpson.  He established himself in the infant film industry and, in the next 22 years, he endured every sharp twist and turn that occurred in the rapid-paced evolution of silent film comedy.

Turpin played an important role in the development of gags and routines, which is obviously a subject near and dear to my heart.  He took pies in the face and got sprayed by seltzer bottles years before those gags became standard fare.  In A Case of Seltzer (1909), Turpin appears as an inveterate flirt who gets his comeuppance when the women that he has harassed form a tight circle around him and blast away with seltzer bottles.

I learned from For Art's Sake that Turpin started out playing the sort of highly destructive bumbler that French comedian André Deed had perfected in his films for Pathé Frères.  In The Crazy Barber (1909), Turpin becomes obsessed practicing for a "fastest barber contest."  He moves energetically through town, automatically cutting the hair of every man, woman and dog that dares to cross his path.  As the title character of The Energetic Street Cleaner (1909), Turpin is so intent on giving the street a powerful sweeping that he fails to take notice of the people who get in his way.  He sweeps dirt onto a pair of women, he knocks down a waiter delivering a tray of food, he scatters a traveler's belongings, and he overturns a grocery boy transporting a sack of flour. 

Turpin had his greatest success at the Mack Sennett studio, where he was transformed into a living cartoon for a series of outrageous farces.  At Sennett, Turpin was never affected by the more sophisticated efforts of Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd.  In 1921, when Chaplin was crying uncontrollably over losing his little boy to child welfare officials, this is what Turpin was doing.

She Sighed by the Sea (1921) 

In 1923, when Harold Lloyd was hanging off a department store clock, this is what Turpin was doing.

Asleep at the Switch (1923)

In 1926, when Buster Keaton was speeding across Tennessee in his prize locomotive, this is what Turpin was doing.

The Prodigal Bridegroom (1926)  

Turpin's Sennett films expertly combined knockabout, lampoonery and surrealism.

At the peak of his Hollywood stardom in the 1920s, Turpin made a habit of standing in the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and Western Avenue to direct traffic.

Try to imagine what would happen if Jim Carrey tried that prank nowadays.  He'd be arrested in less than twenty minutes.  TMZ would be on the scene even faster than the police.  The tabloids would get the word out - either Carrey was as much out of his mind as Amanda Bynes or he was as incapable of handling drink as Reese Witherspoon.

But Hollywood of the 1920s was a carefree and merry place compared to what Hollywood is today, and Turpin's wacky antics on screen and on Santa Monica Boulevard helped to define Hollywood in its infancy.

All in all, I enjoyed the story of Ben Turpin, appropriately called by the author "the world's greatest cock-eyed mirthmaker."

Eighteen Articles in Eighteen Days

I have had a bunch of half-finished articles sitting on my hard drive for months.  I actually thought at one point that I could get away with posting an unfinished article by giving it a funny title like "I'm So Lazy that I Probably Won't Finish This Article."  But, in the end, I could not restrain my Protestant work ethic (even though I am Roman Catholic).  In any case, it became clear to me that the time had finally come to stop procrastinating and get the articles finished.  I intend to post one article per day for the next 18 days.  Eighteen articles in eighteen days will hopefully persuade you to purchase my latest book, Eighteen Comedians of Silent Film.
 
Yes, it is an epic undertaking indeed.  Secrets will be revealed.  Relationships will change.  Lives will be lost.  But, above all else, it's important to me that you enjoy what I have written.

Also, I wanted to let you know that I have added film clips to two previous articles, "The Wet Paint Routine" and "Masters of the Quick Disguise."

http://anthonybalducci.blogspot.com/2012/05/wet-paint-routine.html

http://anthonybalducci.blogspot.com/2011/02/masters-of-quick-disguise.html

Now, let us end today with a tribute to the pie fight.  This was originally posted on YouTube by michiganjfrog.