Beware spoilers!
Anyone desiring to know the great comedy movies of the "silent" era would be well advised to see Keaton's "The General"; and Lloyd's "The Kid Brother" and "Safety Last." But the notoriously dark comedy "Long Pants"? Yet, strangely, "Long Pants" -- starring the often overlooked comedy genius of Harry Langdon -- is a movie on an edge, with more appeal almost a century after it was made.
Harry Langdon was once mentioned in the same breath as Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd. He still is sometimes added as a fourth pillar supporting silent comedy. But his position as that pillar is iffy.
Langdon's problem was a limited character. Most of the silent comics were grotesques. Even Laurel and Hardy -- the fat one and skinny one -- were grotesques in a minor way. Chaplin was considered the greatest of the grotesques: a little tramp with a little mustache who lived in an alternate universe. Two of the most popular comic actors of their time -- and today -- were not grotesques: Buster Keaton with his "stone face" (unsmiling but not unemotional); and Harold Lloyd, the boy-next-door. Both these personas proved extremely elastic. The obvious greatness of Keaton and Lloyd as film makers, then and now, throws into question whether grotesques were necessary at all.
Langdon arrived in films at the age of 40 after 20 years of vaudeville fame, and he developed his film persona in a series of shorts for Mack Sennett, the king of freewheeling slapstick. Langdon's character was another grotesque. He looked young for his age, and he used lots of extremely white make-up, making him baby-faced. He also developed wonderfully childlike mannerisms. His child-man persona, however, did not stretch too far. Langdon had a limited bag of tricks (he used the same act, with variations, in vaudeville for two decades). By the time of "Long Pants" his bag was nearly empty. He had to take his character to another level.
Langdon's new direction was to push the envelope on what was acceptable in comedy. "Long Pants" -- directed by the famous Frank Capra but no doubt strongly influenced by Langdon -- stretched the child-man's comedy as far as it could go without deforming it.
Today, it would hardly be shocking. Langdon plays a small-town 18 year old (he's not a man-child but a child becoming a man) who reads too much romance. He seems destined to marry a local girl; but when the car of a cocaine-smuggling vamp breaks down in his neighborhood, Harry wants to make a romantic impression on her. He first tries to impress her by showing off the "long pants" he's wearing for the first time. Then he tries a number of bicycle-riding tricks around her car. When she amuses the boy by kissing him (and knocking him literally off his feet) he is smitten. When Harry finds letter written to the vamp by a lover that gets left behind -- and which Langdon thinks she wrote to him -- he falls head-over-heels in love with her.
The letter makes Harry think the vamp is returning to marry him. She doesn't return, and Harry is pressured by his folks into marrying the local girl.
On his wedding day, Harry sees in the paper that the vamp he's in love with is in prison. Desperately wanting to help her, Harry brainstorms ways of getting out of the wedding, including taking his bride out into the woods and shooting her in the back of the head.
Soon after this vision, Harry, taps at the window where the girl is donning her bridal clothes. He suggests a stroll together in the woods. The bride is game and she climbs out -- and the viewer glimpses the pistol in Harry's pocket.
Needless to say, the dream of calmly taking someone out and shooting them is lots simpler than the reality. Everything goes wrong that can go wrong, including Harry's losing the pistol in a pile of leaves and getting himself tangled up in barbed wire. The girl proves uncooperative as well. And Harry himself gets the jitters. Finally, he gets the girl to cooperate by turning away and counting to 500; and after the count she turns to see Harry, after several little accidents, sitting on a log with his high hat pushed down to his chin and his right leg caught in a bear trap.
There's not really much shocking about the scene these days, in the wake of comedy inspired by the likes of the Farrelly brothers. Considering that the girl is utterly sweet and stupid, a modern audience would probably be cheering Harry on.
If you don't start laughing at Harry's appearance at the window and at the sight of the gun, and not stop until you see Harry with his dreams of murder shattered, with his hat over his eyes and his foot in a bear trap . . . perhaps this movie's not for you.
If it is for you, you'll see Harry arriving at prison just in time to assist his unladylike-love in a jail break. He nails her in a packing crate, where she suffers several indignities. Harry also suffers, at the hands of a dummy policeman -- yes, a *dummy* policeman -- and at the teeth of an alligator.
In the end, the "snow queen" tracks down the woman who betrayed her to the authorities, and there is a cat-fight in a small-room in the back of a dance-hall. Harry's final rejection of his lover is hilarious.
There is a coda where Harry learns a lesson that shocks him out of his day-dreams. The movie ends on a laugh, but it is muted by bitter-sweetness.
The best way to take this movie is to watch how Langdon develops his character through his shorts; then by watching two main-stream Langdon features, "The Strong Man" and "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp."
Anyone desiring to know the great comedy movies of the "silent" era would be well advised to see Keaton's "The General"; and Lloyd's "The Kid Brother" and "Safety Last." But the notoriously dark comedy "Long Pants"? Yet, strangely, "Long Pants" -- starring the often overlooked comedy genius of Harry Langdon -- is a movie on an edge, with more appeal almost a century after it was made.
Harry Langdon was once mentioned in the same breath as Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd. He still is sometimes added as a fourth pillar supporting silent comedy. But his position as that pillar is iffy.
Langdon's problem was a limited character. Most of the silent comics were grotesques. Even Laurel and Hardy -- the fat one and skinny one -- were grotesques in a minor way. Chaplin was considered the greatest of the grotesques: a little tramp with a little mustache who lived in an alternate universe. Two of the most popular comic actors of their time -- and today -- were not grotesques: Buster Keaton with his "stone face" (unsmiling but not unemotional); and Harold Lloyd, the boy-next-door. Both these personas proved extremely elastic. The obvious greatness of Keaton and Lloyd as film makers, then and now, throws into question whether grotesques were necessary at all.
Langdon arrived in films at the age of 40 after 20 years of vaudeville fame, and he developed his film persona in a series of shorts for Mack Sennett, the king of freewheeling slapstick. Langdon's character was another grotesque. He looked young for his age, and he used lots of extremely white make-up, making him baby-faced. He also developed wonderfully childlike mannerisms. His child-man persona, however, did not stretch too far. Langdon had a limited bag of tricks (he used the same act, with variations, in vaudeville for two decades). By the time of "Long Pants" his bag was nearly empty. He had to take his character to another level.
Langdon's new direction was to push the envelope on what was acceptable in comedy. "Long Pants" -- directed by the famous Frank Capra but no doubt strongly influenced by Langdon -- stretched the child-man's comedy as far as it could go without deforming it.
Today, it would hardly be shocking. Langdon plays a small-town 18 year old (he's not a man-child but a child becoming a man) who reads too much romance. He seems destined to marry a local girl; but when the car of a cocaine-smuggling vamp breaks down in his neighborhood, Harry wants to make a romantic impression on her. He first tries to impress her by showing off the "long pants" he's wearing for the first time. Then he tries a number of bicycle-riding tricks around her car. When she amuses the boy by kissing him (and knocking him literally off his feet) he is smitten. When Harry finds letter written to the vamp by a lover that gets left behind -- and which Langdon thinks she wrote to him -- he falls head-over-heels in love with her.
The letter makes Harry think the vamp is returning to marry him. She doesn't return, and Harry is pressured by his folks into marrying the local girl.
On his wedding day, Harry sees in the paper that the vamp he's in love with is in prison. Desperately wanting to help her, Harry brainstorms ways of getting out of the wedding, including taking his bride out into the woods and shooting her in the back of the head.
Soon after this vision, Harry, taps at the window where the girl is donning her bridal clothes. He suggests a stroll together in the woods. The bride is game and she climbs out -- and the viewer glimpses the pistol in Harry's pocket.
Needless to say, the dream of calmly taking someone out and shooting them is lots simpler than the reality. Everything goes wrong that can go wrong, including Harry's losing the pistol in a pile of leaves and getting himself tangled up in barbed wire. The girl proves uncooperative as well. And Harry himself gets the jitters. Finally, he gets the girl to cooperate by turning away and counting to 500; and after the count she turns to see Harry, after several little accidents, sitting on a log with his high hat pushed down to his chin and his right leg caught in a bear trap.
There's not really much shocking about the scene these days, in the wake of comedy inspired by the likes of the Farrelly brothers. Considering that the girl is utterly sweet and stupid, a modern audience would probably be cheering Harry on.
If you don't start laughing at Harry's appearance at the window and at the sight of the gun, and not stop until you see Harry with his dreams of murder shattered, with his hat over his eyes and his foot in a bear trap . . . perhaps this movie's not for you.
If it is for you, you'll see Harry arriving at prison just in time to assist his unladylike-love in a jail break. He nails her in a packing crate, where she suffers several indignities. Harry also suffers, at the hands of a dummy policeman -- yes, a *dummy* policeman -- and at the teeth of an alligator.
In the end, the "snow queen" tracks down the woman who betrayed her to the authorities, and there is a cat-fight in a small-room in the back of a dance-hall. Harry's final rejection of his lover is hilarious.
There is a coda where Harry learns a lesson that shocks him out of his day-dreams. The movie ends on a laugh, but it is muted by bitter-sweetness.
The best way to take this movie is to watch how Langdon develops his character through his shorts; then by watching two main-stream Langdon features, "The Strong Man" and "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp."