During his apprenticeship as a silent film comic Harold Lloyd made literally dozens of these brief one-reel comedies for Rolin, as the Hal Roach Studio was known at the time. Some of them, like Spring Fever, are delightful little gems which can hold their own with his polished later works; others, like Don't Shove, are routine. This is a pleasant film which provides a chuckle or two for the undemanding viewer, nothing more.
Harold's go-getter character can be pretty aggressive in these early films. He's quick to start to fight, and not above cheating, or at least bending the rules, to win one. He's rather like the early Chaplin, the belligerent Charlie of the Keystone and Essanay comedies, who always looks out for Number One, and isn't subtle about going after what he wants. The Harold of the Rolin comedies is a nice-looking, neatly-groomed young man, usually a middle class professional of some sort, but those who attempt to thwart him may nevertheless find themselves on the receiving end of a beating, dumped in a pond, or worse.
The bulk of Don't Shove takes place in a skating rink. The gags are amusing, but somewhat forced. For example, when Harold distracts his rival by tossing his hat in the street, and the rival tries to retrieve it, we are given to understand that the wind is whipping his hat about in the air, just out of reach -- but the hat is very obviously being manipulated by an off-camera crewman with a wire. We may laugh, but we're all too aware of the effort involved to stage the gag. Later, when Harold tries to show off his skating skill for his leading lady (the very cute Bebe Daniels), he spins out of control, snatches up an old man's hat with his cane, drops it, then lands on the hat, crushing it. This business is presented as if it were an accident, but Lloyd's careful, deft execution of the maneuver is anything but accidental. Unfortunately, most of the material in this short comes off like that. Don't Shove is lightweight and breezy, but lacks the invention which distinguishes an okay comedy from a truly inspired one. For a prime example of the latter, see Lloyd's 1927 feature The Kid Brother, a great film which is perhaps the best kept secret of silent comedy.
