Category Called Comedy #11

 

CCC: Fields the Inventor, Ernst Lubitsch Makes Us Pay Attention

YOU’RE TELLING ME (1934) --- Back a moment to 9/23/2024 and W.C. Fields making Winston-Salem stand in 1970, “The Great Man” promoted thus: See the crusader against everything, the funniest comedian of all time representing everything that decent people don’t, or say they don’t, want to be. This sounds like local management talking. Dan Austell ramrodded the Carolina, wrote ad copy to suit himself. The foregoing was his conception of who W.C. Fields was, something other than what “decent” people aspired to … in 1970? Fields by then represented protest vote as cast by youth in search of rebels to identify with, despite his having been gone for going on twenty-five years. They saw values that Austell had maybe not considered, 70’s taste for Fields far afield of husband under siege he’d play in many if not most of 30’s starring vehicles. You’re Telling Me was near-a-best at distilling essence of a plain speaking Classic Era. I’m sorry this comedian has dimmed with time, must assume Kino did not sell out of discs featuring him, as limit seems reached releasing Bill’s backlog while fire sale prices apply nowadays to ones the video company did share. Fields was much about a philosophy, little of his comedy derived from elsewhere than himself and experiences that molded the man. Pals from the road could slip him gags, Bill a sponge for what was funny, or he'd pull humor out of ideas not so funny elsewhere. Material once his was uniquely his, no use anyone trying to copy. Fields as beset family man in You're Telling Me invents a puncture-proof tire and we want badly for it to succeed, him then shed of domestic yoke and free to ruminate with lay-about friends after fashion of offscreen Bill.

Bill's Mad Lab for Wacky Invention, this Still Supplying Detailed Look. Note the Handy Spitoon.

Fields was spokesman for men on constant run from expectations and responsibility, always just this side of riches come easy and life how they want it. Small-town class consciousness is skewered, us assuming he had lived it growing up or observed same as trouper on trains not to be embraced by polite society, even in unlikely event he’d seek such approval. Fields wanted less to overcome such prejudice than simply withdraw and exist apart from it, a position to be preferred whatever his circumstance. Since when did Bill cater to a Hollywood mainstream, his social circle more/less variations upon himself, not really belonging nor wanting to. Fields had enough of Paramount's confidence to write how he liked and see his vision realized more than most any screen personality not paying their own way, like Chaplin and … nobody (closest getting such generous creative terms at Paramount was Mae West). Tottering near suicide in You're Telling Me, then persuading another not to go that route, Bill walks rope not attempted, maybe not dreamt, by others of comic fraternity. He’s greatest perhaps in moments of seriousness, just moments mind, for comedy he mines for You’re Telling Me was bettered by none, including maybe himself. Was Fields anti-marriage and offspring as suggested by much of his work? A dutiful daughter relieves You’re Telling Me and later Man on the Flying Trapeze, but what of bratty or neglectful girls in The Dentist or It's a Gift? As to sons, never mind … they never worked out, on screens or off, it seems. Fields kept stock comics for support, them around the house for drinking companionship or to run errands, drive, whatever. Foolproof stage routines could be adapted for features that could use them, belonging or not of scant concern, so long as they’d raise laughs, a certainty where Fields performed, like time-honored golf game a third act for You're Telling Me, and so what if done but recent for a short subject few would recall? Anyone who worked with Fields kept headful of tales spun by him, or ones of their own for knowing him, interviewers always asking first, what was he really like?

ERNST LUBITSCH AS THE ENEMY OF POPCORN --- My eyes closed for ten seconds during one of Ernst Lubitsch’s silent features and I nearly lost whole of the thread. He made undivided attention a must, as did most of an era when eyes alone caught story value and looking sideways or backward could spell game over. Think of voiceless years for film followed by lazy viewing talkies encouraged. You watch intent where watching is whole of the experience, though yes, there was music, but only to underline action on the screen, which if you didn’t pay attention, was just formless noise and pointless for being there. With sound came switch back-forth between movie and radio experience, looking at the picture when not occupied by business of concessions or conversation with he/she beside you. Didn’t matter which for talk coming in both ears, two tasks doable just like being at home with senses all engaged and no one of them in exclusive use. There would never come a time like silent movies again. It needed a certain skill to enjoy them, like perhaps with opera or playing bridge, chess, any recreation requiring concentration. Jean Harlow asked in Libeled Lady what to do with so much idle time, William Powell answering “Maybe you could learn to read.” Imagine entertainment foundation which was consumers able to read, not then or now a given. One can read without comprehending. Happens all the time. It could be argued that radio dumbed us down, TV finishing the job. A filmmaker like Ernst Lubitsch asked much of his viewership. Ones who grooved with him were regularly flattered for getting his humor and nuance. Hollywood liked him for making its industry look good. Didn’t matter even if his pictures lost money.

We watch Lubitsch and come away smart. He always gave credit for brains, as if saying maybe your neighbor doesn’t get what I’m showing here, but of course, you do. He made us feel wise for watching. Who knew audiences could stay even with such puzzles as he devised? Lubitsch was reminder to Hollywood that it could challenge viewers, at least tweak them a little. Fact he'd incorporate comedy was all for better. Spoofing marriage and manners had been around, Lubitsch generous for making kindred spirit with what till then was classified as a rube audience. Latter felt the more provincial where faced with European sophistication. For comedy we had Charlie Chaplin while continentals had Max Linder. Chaplin anticipated America-bound Lubitsch with A Woman of Paris, too serious for rurals to embrace, though Lubitsch did once he saw it and was inspired. He'd explore intimacies of the bedchamber where sophisticated couples dress while arguing, undress where doing a same, this like keyhole peeping and who knew but what next time Lubitsch would go farther. He’d interweave five, six characters and expect us to follow, and thanks to his skill, we could. Maybe there was a place for European sensibility in American films. “Lubitsch Touch” so celebrated would be imitated: Jewel Robbery, This Is the Night, Easy to Love, more no doubt. Most silent Lubitsch is available on Blu-Ray or DVD. I looked at The Marriage Circle, Lady Windemere’s Fan, So This is Paris, and Three Women. Forbidden Paradise exists but looks rugged in clips I’ve seen. Lubitsch takes adjustment even for seasoned watchers, but once you’re there, his is a sweet spot.