THIS WEEK ON THE SCREENLaurel and HardyMarch 22, 1930 Two
comedians are at present the most vital force in the American
kinema, and good comedians are rare. They usually are to be found
turning out a number of short films in quick succession with such skill
that it becomes discouraging to think how good they might be with
better material; and when found they usually end by taking themselves,
or, what is worse, their humour, seriously. The first has
happened
with Bebe Daniels, the second with Chaplin. It is only a Harold
Lloyd
or a Buster Keaton who can survive promotion to full-length
pictures.
But Laurel and Hardy are still in the short-film stage, and yet their
films, their methods, and material seem perfect. It is hard to
imagine
them being any funnier or having better stories. It is true that
their
humour is slapstick, but it is all the better for that: real and loud
laughter is too rare in the kinema in these days of "silence for a
talking session". Not all their gags are new; Laurel and Hardy
throw
pies at each other, they drop heavy weights on their feet, and the
picture Laurel nails up falls on Hardy's head. They even use the
time-honoured flypaper - but with a difference. It sticks to
Laurel's
foot. After the usual business with getting rid of it, he turns
his
sock inside out to prevent it sticking on the floor, and the real point
of the incident lies in what we are left to imagine. Their films
are
made by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and so, though they are to be found
everywhere, the surest place to see them is at the London Empire.
When
a Laurel and Hardy film precedes Greta Garbo's latest picture, as it
did this week at the Empire, one may be sure of seeing American screen
entertainment at its best; just as, when they are shown in conjunction
with the beautiful and stirring "Turk-Sib" by the London Workers' Film
Society, one may be sure one is seeing, in this Russian and this
American film, the best that the kinema has to offer at the moment.They have been making pictures for about two years, and the astonishing thing is that, though they have various directors, all their pictures have the same remarkable quality. Their gags may be old, and some of them may not always succeed in making us laugh, but they all succeed in holding their place in the film, and the quality which makes these films so irresistible is the relentless picture they give of logic carried to absolutely fantastic extremes. Here is no busy attempt to be funny; something just goes wrong, and in their attempts to repair it, either by making two blacks a white or in seeking to cover up a black with a white, they make a world which from everyday beginnings grows into a world of incredible and absurd happenings where people do what they feel they would like to do, where savagery is unchained and honesty would be defeated were it not that inborn deceit comes to its rescue again, so that Laurel and Hardy always escape. |
Laurel
is thin and Hardy fat, with something of the appearance of
Paul Whiteman. Laurel is always in attendance on Hardy, but it is
he
who is the originator. Hardy has something happen to him, he
turns to
Laurel to suggest a way out, and Laurel suggests some things which
would be quite all right were it not that he had overlooked the most
important part of the problem. In "Big Business," they are turned
away
from a house. Laurel therefore suggests going into the next
street.
They do. But unfortunately the house is a corner house, and it
has an
entrance in the next street. Laurel overlooks this, and they get
turned away again. With their efforts to avenge themselves on the
householder's roughness begins the flood of destruction in which their
films always end. From a small beginning things that had begun to
rock
and totter fall about them. A picture falls down and a blind goes
up;
by the end of the film the ceiling is collapsing and the bed is
broken. In "Big Business" they damage the householder's
doorpost. In
return for which he spoils the tree they are trying to sell. They
then
begin to destroy his house in earnest, while he starts to smash their
car. One may be certain that however rich a room or splendid an
automobile one finds them in at the beginning to a picture it will be
fit only for the scrap-heap at the end. In "Two Tars" they go out
for
a ride, and head a long queue held up by a repair in the road.
When
they try to back they touch the car behind them. This is
enough.
Reprisals begin. Laurel and Hardy look at each other.
Laurel nods.
They remove a lamp from the other car. The owner then slashes
their
tyres. Laurel then bends back his radiator, and by this time all
the
cars in the queue are implicated. Doors are ripped off, hoods
slashed,
running-boards shattered, and by the time the cars are able to move
again there is not one that can run normally on four wheels or with any
ordinary amount of springs. Logical Folly Laurel and Hardy spread destruction in their wake. And yet they always have a perfectly valid excuse for doing it. Some little thing goes wrong at the start and they try to repair it. They are not to be blamed for that. They are not to be blamed for other people having such evil dispositions. If someone else rips their tyres they naturally want to retaliate. When they have got even with their aggressor they are prepared to move on - but the other person will not let them, and then their fighting spirit is aroused. It is all quite logical, and this is the secret of their films. They roll on, like a snowball, from one small incident, and they are funny because of this and not only because of what they contain. Most of their tricks are excellently turned, and one thing follows another with great technical skill. Laurel and Hardy are also good pantomimists; Laurel is the best, though he is always the unfortunate one in their pictures, bullied and beaten by the larger Hardy. But he has a bland smile when troubles end or before they begin which is delightful, and his look of perplexed astonishment when Hardy will not see it is not his fault is one of the best facial expressions on the screen. One simple little look when he feels disaster impending is worth thousands of feet of action or dialogue. But the real secret of their films is this unfailing formula of one idea being carried too far, of one idea being developed to the exclusion of anything else. Laurel pursues his idée fixe through a world of many conflicting ideas, and the havoc he wreaks in that world is something quite new in screen humour. Their best films are "Big Business" and "Two Tars," but there are many others, silent and talking, and it is because they are to be seen all over the country, in kinemas of every size, that I judged them to be so popular as to justify consideration at length. They are not to be missed. The Guardian, UK |