The recent release of a four-disc Harry Langdon DVD set is terrific news for silent comedy buffs, not only because many of the films are rare, newly restored, and great fun to watch, but because the set goes a long way towards rehabilitating Langdon's somewhat battered reputation. The film historians who devoted time and effort to restoring these films also provide commentary tracks that help set the record straight about certain misconceptions concerning the comedian, backed up by evidence in the films themselves.
Harry's rise to stardom was meteoric, his heyday was brief, and his downfall was swift. How did this happen? When Langdon's one-time friend and collaborator Frank Capra published his autobiography in the early 1970's it appeared the answer was at hand: Capra told the world that he and his fellow Sennett teammates Harry Edwards and Arthur Ripley had essentially created Harry's screen persona themselves, that the star himself never really understood the character, and that when Langdon began directing his own movies (after firing Capra) he brought his downfall upon himself. It would now appear that Capra's story was, to be generous, only partially accurate, and there is ample proof in the new DVD set to indicate that Langdon's familiar screen character was forming even before Capra came along.
Take The Luck o' the Foolish, for example. It's a highly enjoyable short in its own right, long available only as excerpts in Robert Youngson's compilation When Comedy Was King. Harry Edwards directed this film, but the full Langdon team wasn't yet in place. In the opening sequence Harry and his wife Marcie are traveling across country by train, which means Harry has to contend with one of those cramped sleeper berths that look so uncomfortable, but which were a godsend to comedians! Harry falls out of his compartment, gets entangled with other passengers, and then, in the best gag of all, opens the door to the sleeper car and lets in a full-scale wind storm that causes total havoc. The next morning, he attempts to shave in the men's room and provokes much irritation from a fellow traveler, in an extended routine that might have been the inspiration for the great sequence on the bus in The Strong Man a couple of years later. Here we can see how Langdon was already slowing down the tempo, in contrast with the normally frantic Sennett comedies of the period, taking time to build up his routines to big pay-offs. Meanwhile, we learn that Harry & his wife are moving so Harry can take a better job, and that they're bringing $500 which is crucial to the deal. Unfortunately, Marcie makes the mistake of displaying the money too openly, and the nest-egg is surreptitiously swiped by another traveler. Next we meet the sheriff who is transporting a dangerous criminal to jail, and through a series of implausible but amusing twists Harry winds up handcuffed to the crook during a wild shoot-out. I remember seeing this sequence in Youngson's compilation on TV when I was a kid, and finding it genuinely frightening, like something out of Hitchcock.
Once Harry & Marcie arrive at their destination they realize their money is gone, and our hero must take up his former occupation as a police officer. Several good routines ensue with Harry as a beat patrolman, and in these sequences his behavior, gestures, and moves suggest the child-man persona he would continue to develop over the next year or so. Especially notable is a beautifully filmed bit in which Harry, groggy after accidentally ingesting chewing tobacco, crawls across a busy street and narrowly avoids getting hit by three passing cars! Eventually, the plot strands are brought together in an unlikely fashion as Harry, Marcie, the pickpocket from the train and the dangerous criminal all converge on the same house at the same time, and Harry manages to straighten things out almost accidentally, as the movie's title suggests. (Unfortunately the footage gets a little choppy towards the end, but the gist of the plot comes across.) According to the commentary track, part of this sequence was filmed at producer Mack Sennett's own home, which seems oddly appropriate.
The Luck o' the Foolish is a fun two-reeler, perhaps the best Langdon made in his first year at the Sennett Studio. His familiar costume isn't there yet, and there are occasional moments when the gags seem a little out of character, but the Harry Langdon persona is essentially on display. Frank Capra hadn't yet arrived on the scene when this film was made, which means that the restored version of this long lost comedy provides solid evidence that Langdon, working with Harry Edwards, was already developing the persona and style that Capra would help refine further, but which Capra himself did not create.
