Tag: laurel and hardy

(1929; director: James Parrott)

“Jason, how come you haven’t reviewed a Laurel and Hardy short since June?”

“Jason, where in living fuck are the Laurel and Hardy reviews?”

“Jason, what happened to your Laurel and Hardy review series? They’re the only thing that I liked on your stupid site!”

“Jason, your Laurel and Hardy reviews are the light of my life. Please bring them back.”

Absolutely no one has said any of the above to me, but I am still keenly aware that I’ve neglected this series for too many months now. What can I say? The dog ate my homework. New Year’s resolution: More Laurel and Hardy reviews. Or at least finally get to the second disc of the Essential Collection DVD box set.

Continue reading “A Laurel and Hardy Party #6: THE HOOSE-GOW”

(1929; director: James Parrott)

There’s got to be at least one critic who’s written about how Laurel and Hardy are actually a subversive gay couple in their films, right? I’m not ready to drape a rainbow flag over the boys’ shoulders just yet, but the hints are there if you want ’em. Have at it, folks. Let’s make Laurel & Hardy hip new gay icons. Fine with me.

Exhibit A: They Go Boom!  It’s the two-reeler short in which Oliver Hardy comes down with a case of the sniffles and it’s a problem for both him and Stan Laurel because they sleep in the same bed together. Shoulder-to-shoulder almost. Closer than the Clintons have slept together in forty years and closer than the Trumps have probably slept together ever.

Now, I don’t know, maybe in 1929 two men could bed down under the same blanket and it didn’t mean anything other than that they were sleepy. I’m not sure. I was only four years old in 1929.

Also, one could argue that Stan and Ollie are simply poor and this is how they save money. Their room, which is about the size of–ahem–a closet is pretty shabby.

Or maybe they’re hiding out from their wives to live their secret life and are simply on a budget.

Anyway, while Ollie suffers through his cold, Stan tries to help out by applying antiquated home remedies that lead to the usual giant mess. The pratfalls are plenty, Ollie loses his temper, the police show up because of the noise and an air mattress explodes. It could happen.

It’s a bad night for our heroes, but a good time for us as this is easily one of the funniest of the team’s early shorts, all the more impressive because the production couldn’t be more economical. It’s just two guys in a room with brief appearances by a few bit players, including old school comedy stalwart Charlie Hall as the angry landlord.

(1929; director: James Parrott)

To my knowledge, the famous Lou Reed song is NOT based on this 1929 comedy two-reeler in which Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy completely fuck up a picnic. They don’t even get to the picnic, actually. Just packing up the sandwiches and getting their Model T out of the driveway brings disaster. The slapstick between Stan and Ollie as they get in each others’ way dealing with flat tires, an uncooperative engine and a neighbor whose window they accidentally break is good stuff, but the funniest parts are how everyone pretends that the great day that their wives planned is still possible after all of this (see the cheerful, and repetitious, goodbyes to the neighbors). Also, comedy stalwart Edgar Kennedy as the cranky old brother forced to tag along even with a gout-riddled foot in a cast (do you think it’s going to get stepped on and knocked around throughout the film?) is reliably despairing.

It’s a good one. Also, as a man who feels like he pretty much bumbles his way through most days, Laurel and Hardy continue to resonate. If you see me at the ice cream shop, ask me about my several Oliver Hardy moments last week when my cat got stuck in a tree for a few hours.

This is the fourth film on the massive Laurel and Hardy: The Essential Collection DVD box set and the first one to have a bonus feature, which is simply an alternate soundtrack. Like most films in 1929, the original release of “Perfect Day” has no music beyond the opening titles. When Hal Roach put it back into circulation in 1937, it came with a score of jaunty studio library music newly added for your pleasure. The DVD offers both versions. Party like it’s 1929. Or 1937. Your choice. They’re both good.

(1929; director: Lewis R. Foster)

Beautiful weather in a peaceful park in the Jazz Age. A glittering pond on which happy couples float lazily in rented canoes. Flowers everywhere. Pretty girls strolling in the sun. Lively chatter around a gazebo. Not one hint of a whisper in the air about any coming Great Depression. What a nice day.

Until Laurel and Hardy show up to ruin everything, God bless ’em. This is funny stuff, though the best joke is that Stan and Ollie are sailors on furlough. Can you imagine them being on a boat that they don’t manage to sink? Or going in for their military physical and not somehow setting the office on fire?

So in this one, our heroes meet a couple of man-crazy young women due to a mildly racy misunderstanding that involves ladies undergarments that accidentally fell off a passing pile of laundry.  Next thing you know, they’ve scored a double date in an old-fashioned soda shop (the guy behind the counter is past and future frequent L&H foil James Finlayson in his first sound film ) and then in a rowboat for what should be a romantic paddle across the water, but that goes completely wrong. It’s no spoiler to say that boat’s going underwater, somebody’s getting smacked silly with an oar and everyone’s going to start fighting.

The gags here are expert with the most valuable player award going to Oliver Hardy. He’s still a riot almost ninety years later, whether in awkward flirtation with comely flappers, dealing with man-child Stan or trying to maintain something that resembles dignity but losing it so easily.

(1929; director: Lewis R. Foster)

This is one of the lesser lights among Laurel and Hardy’s dozens of two-reeler talkies, but it’s still funny with that all-important mean streak. Our heroes hop a passenger train—just barely making it, of course—and chaos ensues. The centerpiece gag is a bit that runs a little too long in which they slapstick their way in and out of a berth for a much-needed nap after a long day of being complete idiots.

Still, the funniest thing here is that Stan Laurel is a musician, lugging around a cumbersome upright bass, and Oliver Hardy is his manager. Just the idea of that is funny. They’re blundering bohemians on their way to a vaudeville gig in Pottsville. THAT’S the movie I want to see. Stan screwing up his performance, breaking a string or two, accidentally knocking over the rest of the orchestra with his instrument. Then, Ollie struggling to get paid after the show, arguing with the shyster theater manager, finally getting what he and Stan are due, after which he steps outside and trips over the bass. The money flies in the air and is carried away by the wind.

And maybe they made that one. I’m still making my way through the 10-DVD box set. Bear with me.