New Bids for Comedy of Old

 

Dream Team of Lloyd, Sturges, and Hughes Commit The Sin of Harold Diddlebock

Stop me if you recognize plowed ground. Remember Moon Mullins having a friend that worked at National Screen in Charlotte, the one who’d bring up hundreds of stills, posters, at a time and hand them over to Moon? One day I was there and what turns up but a thick file for The Sin of Harold Diddlebock (1946) and Mad Wednesday (1950), two titles for obviously the same film. This was 1973 and a first-time seeing artifacts from something, in fact Harold Lloyd’s last, known only from vague mention in a few books and not seen elsewhere (by me certainly … by anyone otherwise?). Moon’s stills were half captioned for Diddlebock, the balance for Mad Wednesday. Of course, I wanted them and so traded him cowboy stuff for the lot. Few years later, a UHF channel in Hickory, oddly up the boulevard from where Moon lived, bought PD features including The Sin of Harold Diddlebock, thus a first time seeing it, “seeing” an elastic term for quality, or lack of, in fact dross served by a broadcaster barely afloat. The Sin of Harold Diddlebock seemed a thing dredged from ocean’s bottom, but any old port midst storm, so I watched, checking off against memory of stills Moon had let me have. I'm past fifty years since, time enough for someone to fix Diddlebock/Wednesday, but so far none of reclamations have surfaced, though there are viewing opportunities at You Tube and elsewhere, quality better than I recall, still short of threshold to make either version worthy of dream team that was Harold Lloyd and Preston Sturges.

“The Man Who Gave You The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek” followed Sturges like plague, a worse canker as years went by and his last hit retreated further into memory. It was not unlike Bogdanovich in latter half of the seventies and into the eighties referred to as “The Man Who Gave You The Last Picture Show and What’s Up, Doc,” even a most forbearing public moved eventually to ask, yes, but what have done for us lately? When Preston Sturges merged with Howard Hughes in 1945 to do The Sin of Harold Diddlebock, there was every reason to believe he would strike lightning again … and again. Their “California” firm gave Sturges full freedom to make pictures his way, something Paramount had denied, plus they fiddled with Hail the Conquering Hero (his save an eleventh hour one), but The Great Moment was wrecked, so Sturges said, what we have of Moment tampered to ruin. Again, I want to know how such an insane thing was permitted to happen … I mean Sturges being let out of Paramount against backdrop of hits, smash ones, while he lost entry through Marathon gates. The Sin of Harold Diddlebock has been undervalued largely because no good prints were had after theatrical release in 1946, that aborted after a handful of bookings, then Diddlebock back in 1950 as Mad Wednesday, pushed hard by RKO, which Hughes now owned, his partnership with Sturges and their California shingle having been taken down and forgot. What a whirligig. By 1950, Harold Lloyd was barely mentioned on ads, so past was promise of his comeback. He by then had trouble enough just getting his oldies into theatres indifferent to what legacy he represented.

Who but Preston Sturges would look back upon silent comedians he adored during the twenties and ask what became of the characters they played? A lot might say who cares?, as these were not real people being real people, but Sturges knew better. Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd told stories about life as it was, more so certainly than formula driven epics or melodramas. Sturges asked, as any of us might, what happens after the happy endings? Did the blind flower girl, healed by the tramp’s effort and sacrifice, remain with him after regaining sight and realizing who he was? Would Johnny Grey and Annabelle Lee enjoy wedded life to follow his saving of the South? Only Keaton gave a grim forecast of what cheery fades amounted to, stunning viewers in 1927, more so today, with final moments of College. Harold Lloyd being sunniest of comics insured reward for all his onscreen risks, but Sturges pondered joyous fades and wondered what really would follow. Imagination like his always pointed forward. Maybe Harold asked too in contemplative moments, though I’m guessing Lloyd had fewer of those, being too occupied with a career, then hobbies plus Shriner leadership, once the career slowed down. He was also too rich to trouble over abstract concepts, that as much as anything how he’d differ with Sturges throughout shared effort that was The Sin of Harold Diddlebock.

Sturges was mistaken to think he could trust Howard Hughes and was warned to that effect by director friends like Hawks and Wyler. Money had a narcotic effect, as in apparent bottomless well of it that Hughes was willing to drop on Cal-Pix, no evident strings attached. Hughes did not care what got spent until one sudden day he did. That came later though, for in the meantime there was camaraderie and common ground for the two to enjoy, such as both being inventors and overall singular personalities for a press to marvel over. Hughes had made movies too, spent wildly so that what looked like a hit (Hell’s Angels) ended up scarcely that thanks to cash poured into it. To budget The Sin of Harold Diddlebock at over a million was music to Sturges, 49% owner of Cal-Pix, a deal to seem rich but wasn’t, for Hughes could pull his plug at whatever random suited him. For the present, there was a movie to make, Sturges free, or so he thought, from interference. Missing however was factory resource to lend polish Sturges relied on more than he or anyone anticipated. Renting space to shoot, borrowing even (from Paramount at one point), was no luxury. Harold Diddlebock lacked comforts of Para home and it was duly noted, if not by Sturges then by critics and patronage. Here was effect like the Cagney brothers felt when suddenly they were off Warner premices and having to scrounge for spots to shoot and monies to make their output look pro. Result felt cut-rate despite amounts spent, loaning banks alert and keeping stopwatches. Sturges had no worry of that, or so he figured through progress on The Sin of Harold Diddlebock, which overran estimated cost by $600K, this alarm to ones who'd wonder how comedy with a silent era lead could possibly get that much plus necessarily much more back.

Question of what happens twenty years after you’ve won the big game would be asked lots more in years to come, being tune so many contemporary films have played, so Sturges was forward-thinking with Harold Diddlebock, but how much of patronage cared to know how “Harold Lamb” (now Diddlebock) from The Freshman turned out? Part of problem awakening memory was The Freshman being long gone from circulation, not for lack of effort on Lloyd’s part --- he wanted to be seen again. I doubt any writer-director other than Preston Sturges could have enticed Harold Lloyd back to screens, him doing The Sin of Harold Diddlebock not for payment, at least in dollars, but to revive his old self in depth not explored previous. Diddlebock’s drama lay in fact he has lost twenty years to office drudgery with nothing but pittance saved to show for it. To restore vim/vigor of past Harold was both men’s goal, difference in going about this a source of mild tension, but not serious conflict, as Sturges and Lloyd liked each other too much to fall out. Differing philosophy might have been expected, the writer-director wanting his dialogue to dominate, the comedian-star preferring sight humor as had worked over years of silent popularity. They would compromise in principle, but what we have looks/sounds more like Sturges than Lloyd. What was liked of old-style Harold would be reprised, like ledge-hanging updated to frantic newness, Lloyd chained to a lion and swinging too-fro and many stories up, this all déjà vu for some but as it turned out, not enough. Difference was Harold having executed former thrills for real and Diddlebock being faked on a stage and effects driven, good as technique could manage in 1945-46 (John Fulton pulling strings), but audiences had lately seen high wiring in The Horn Blows at Midnight, so nothing truly new there, only further evidence that big studios could manage trickery far better than independents.

Comedy arose from alcohol before, drunks funny in moderation, but interval between Diddlebock on drawing boards and unspooling at theatres saw The Lost Weekend as Best Picture warn that tippling was ruinous where overdone, so suddenly Harold’s spree was less funny than cause for concern. Whatever he consumes is mostly offscreen, us told that one drink will release Diddlebock's primitive impulse. Preston Sturges himself overdrank, increasingly a problem as he aged and luck had run out. Did someone whisper that alcohol abuse as basis for humor was a theme that had its day and was no more? No matter, for Sturges was in a catbird seat with full control and no reason as he saw it to heed voices saying “No,” even benign ones speaking for his own good. Also there was pressure, always pressure, to keep overlarge machinery that was The Sin of Harold Diddlebock running, Sturges alone responsible for seemingly all duties associated with production, things a support army at Paramount handled invisibly while the writer-director tended to creative matters. Idea of Harold as milquetoast let loose and leading a lion through bank offices to acquire a loan was good perhaps on paper and as told to friends during dine at “The Players,” Sturges’ restaurant and pride/joy, but getting this all on the screen made for top-heavy second half of a comedy creeping toward overlength, Sturges realizing trims were needed to get Diddlebock to a more manageable ninety minutes before sending his work to market.

Sturges went largely without sleep, four hours his norm, when lucky. There was always more to do, the writer-director swimming with ideas, many good, if few implemented, because where were resources to produce so much? Opening for The Sin of Harold Diddlebock came under cloud of Howard Hughes not liking finished (1/46) product. United Artists would distribute, and there was a lavish pressbook to promise ad saturation in national magazines and a major splash for Harold Lloyd’s return. People must have wondered what became of The Sin of Harold Diddlebock when it suddenly vanished after a mere handful of engagements ($21,400 from twenty-one bookings), and what of rhapsodic reviews from the trade? Were we denied something well worth seeing, another Morgan’s Creek or maybe even funnier? Sturges and Hughes had broken bonds, the writer-director bought out of his 49% with a few thousand. There was work Sturges did “as a favor” on something called Vendetta, in which Hughes intended to launch Faith Domergue as the next big thing. Diddlebock was back in 1950 as Mad Wednesday, ads not bothering to mention it was old stuff, and barely letting us know Harold Lloyd was involved. RKO, owned now by Hughes, was distributor, but with no stars to sell, apart from character comedians (Lloyd barely a sidebar), soft business could be expected ($550K in domestic rentals, $450K foreign), among weaker returns for RKO that season. Preston Sturges by then was finished with major studio work, or rather they were finished with him. He still wrote every day, surviving journals filled as always with bright concepts someone should have financed and prospered with. What to do where you’ve been declared damaged goods?, yet Sturges would not give up. He still invented as sort of a hobby, and who knows but what these could serve mankind should they come to fruition? Sturges was forceful proof that it needed luck above all things to succeed, or in his case, keep on succeeding. He understood such reality better than most, so did not complain … just carried on creating until departure in 1959.

A NEW COMIQUE HAS LANDED --- I’m a babe in comedic woods alongside talent back of Comique, issue #3 just out and freely accessible online. Bylines represent best and brightest of slapstick historians, each studying the art since before men made lunar landing. I’m pleased to know some of them, am impressed by contribution all have made to this latest number. Cover subject is Lloyd Hamilton, definitively profiled by Richard M. Roberts. Aside from excellence of his text, there are stills, ads, all to arrest and most seen, at least by me, for a first time. Ed Watz continues his personal history of devil incarnate Raymond Rohauer, with side trips to Buster Keaton, Harry Langdon, the Marx Brothers, each during life or afterward intersecting with RR. Ed Watz knows whereof he writes for having been employed by that baddest man. They say worst among us compel the most. Ed proves it here. There is Louise Fazenda: Forgotten Queen of Slapstick, by Lea Stans. Am I alone for thinking Louise was kind of attractive during her silent prime? Hal Wallis would apparently have agreed, as he married Louise and stayed with her for the haul. Polly Moran (Joanna E. Rapf) and Minta Durfee Arbuckle (Paul Gierucki) are covered admirably. There’s also Vernon Dent, Buster Keaton in the USSR, Ed Watz asserting how Bud could be funnier than Lou, plus cherry atop that is a lengthy letter Stan Laurel wrote to a friend in 1962 where he names his favorite comics. Comique this time out is 236 pages. I could wish it were a thousand.