Let The Fun Never Stop

 Part Two Aboard Comedy's Caravan

I found a “Looser Than Loose” DVD compilation of team comedies. In it was ten minutes of Wallace Beery and Raymond Hatton from We’re In The Navy Now (1926), among phalanx of service spoofs the pair did for Paramount. This is mostly them swabbing a deck, mops swung willy-nilly. I gather this is all the feature we have left, unless someone puts me right. Of late there is controversy over how good or bad Harry Langdon shorts were for Hal Roach. I watched Skirt Shy (1929) on a recent DVD and so disqualify myself from voting under heading of if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything. I like Langdon, have boosted him. Ever notice how Harry fans assume a defensive posture sooner or later? I will not say Skirt Shy is bad, as today’s should be a relaxing column, not me looking for trouble. I may be safer saying that Clark and McCullough in 1934’s In A Pig’s Eye seem sort of bad, or has there not been enough Clark and McCullough in my life? They run a tailor shop and later bring a squealing pig to a formal dinner. I don’t remember why. This was an RKO talking short that owners likely meant to burn, but somehow overlooked. From a same category, a pair of “toy projector” fragments (free with purchase of the machine) of Slim Summerville in Easy Work (1924), otherwise lost, but this will do. Only five minutes, through which I fell asleep two distinct times, roused to consciousness by disquieting sight of Summerville, too slim for comfort. I promptly ate several caramels to avoid such a thing happening to me.

Worn out yet? There is still Two Lame Ducks (1936), an Educational two-reeler surviving as one, Billy Gilbert and Vince Barnett would-be duck shooters. Mr. W’s Little Game (1934) has Alexander Woollcott abusing diners with a nonsensical word game. I felt he was talking down to me the whole time, which from what I understand, Woollcott did to those who came across him in the twenties or thirties. Not an attractive screen presence, if this is evidence. Woollcott regarded himself head man at the Algonquin Round Table. I’ve had mixed feelings about this group (was it actually a “vicious circle”?), and am set upon reading books about them in hope of better understanding. To bungle speeches like Benchley comes Donald Ogden Stewart --- they were friends (up to a point), but Stewart lacked an Everyman quality Benchley had, being too baldly Ivy League to warm us, and so made do writing screenplays. Both Traffic Regulations and Humorous Flights date from 1929, a year when anyone who could stand straight and talk amusing was given a chance. These Stewart shorts are extras on a Benchley DVD set from Kino, as is the Woollcott, three Smart Set members for the price of a single disc.

More common is The Cook (1918), which is R. Arbuckle with Buster Keaton, a short thought gone for years, one, in fact two, prints turning up in Europe, an archival event. I’d be hackney to call their moves “balletic.” They are, surely, as who of present-day gets round like this? Roscoe has a big knife he uses to slice meat, tosses it behind him and rests assured it will land blade-in and precise upon corner of his butcher stand, a maneuver deft beyond modern capacity to duplicate. Took years at vaudeville, stock, and silent movies to master this and all of rest these masters did. What was average time getting your diploma for physical comedy? Longer than for neurosurgery, I bet. My high school drama class did an 8mm short where I jumped off the top of a bus just like Buster might have done, results distinctly not the same. Given a cold enough day, I still feel the effect. The Cook ends up with Bad Fuzzy St. John chasing the girl (but which girl?) over rollercoaster trestles, way high up. How is it silent comedies so often begin in one spot or circumstance, and two reels later finish someplace far off and unconnected? Let’s call them all avant-garde and await mainstream embrace to surely come.

Might Malcolm “Big Boy” Sebastian qualify as an abstract, expressionist artist, a prodigy even? He started in shorts at age two (born 1923), retired by 1929 at six. There were twenty-eight shorts wherein he (1) runs away from home “to be a hobo,” (2) escapes from behind German lines, or in Helter Skelter, obliged to sell his dog (“Mutt”) for the sake of a destitute mother. Big Boy is put through paces, as is Mutt, latter wrecking a party after he gets in the fireplace and is coated with coal dust. Hilarity ensues, really it does. I’ve not before seen coal dust so capably employed. Ben Model rescued Helter Skelter as part of his “Accidently Preserved” series, the second reel only due to an “unprojectionable” first that ultimately turned into a “nitrate brick.” How does one dispose of such toxic waste? Nitrate isn’t something you leave for the trash collector along with empty cereal boxes. For the record, Big Boy was pals with Lon Chaney Sr. and lived until 2006. I confused him initially with “Sunny Jim” McKee, a contemporary who did forty some shorts, then died of blood poisoning at eight. Child stars were a fragile lot, as I learned years ago when apprised of fate that awaited Our Gangers.

Not to dwell again on treasured Leon Errol except to note his outward success going into most shorts, a business owner with assistants and a secretary, an elegant home plus servants, his sole anchor a forever suspicious wife. Every Errol comedy builds to a frenzy of deception and misunderstandings. Most clowns worked that formula once dialogue took a lead. Mis-chose words were what generally got Edgar Kennedy in trouble, same for Charlie Chase once he landed at Columbia. Yes, I am easier to please, because these appeal to me like they never did before. Rote can comfort, knowing what you look at is but slight vary of what you saw before, and will likely see next. Keep your spontaneity and surprise, I’ll take Charlie at Columbia and be happy. Policy statement to hereafter apply, that is spelling him “Charlie” rather than “Charley,” simply because I prefer typing out Charlie to Charley. There is a reason why men like Errol and Chase worked, and were wanted, right up to days they died. They knew all men’s plight, reminded us of it in brief, exiting before just enough became too much. Could seventeen-eighteen minutes be more profitably spent? I read how Charlie Chase lamented to friends his standing below other comics, this near the end of a lifetime making merry, onscreen and off. And yet his name would come up, long after Charlie was gone (d. 1940), critics citing him exemplar of a time comedy was best practiced. Maybe it shouldn’t matter if Chase, sundry others, are “rediscovered.” He has been there, always, if over 100 years can be considered always, which in context of comedy, will do nicely, as what humor from earlier on survives so well? And if Chase hasn’t sustained, tell me how oceans of his work continue to lick upon shore that is You Tube. There is more of him there than one can say grace over … and so many uploaders, Charlie Chase rediscovered a more than done deal.

There are ways to watch comedy. Maybe a best was in compilations, Robert Youngson the ideal guide to what was good. Many saw what he did, and little else, Youngson scrapbooks satisfying novelty interest a general audience had. The few that explored beyond him did their own excavations in years to come. Surely those who boxed mirth for DVD came to their passion via Youngson. Closest to his styling has been Slaphappy, thirty half-hours plus a feature, silent footage with music and narration. These were produced between 2001 and 2003, played PBS and other TV outlets. A relevant Slaphappy episode would make a good lead-in to whatever group of shorts you assemble, saving time and tedium of a spoken intro. So finally the question: How to introduce a show of vintage comedy? Cardinal rule: Never promise the moon, let alone that your audience will fall from chairs laughing. That’s like guaranteeing they won’t. I have over years built up enough qualifiers to make folks almost wonder why we’re there, fear of overselling a grip upon me from early on. I prefer hearing Wow, that was better than I expected to Gee, that wasn’t so good as you said it would be. Far as I’ll go … Here is a short comedy (emphasis on short) you might find interesting. And don’t smile when you say it. Let ‘em find laughs for themselves.