A fun time was had at the Harry Langdon Film Festival

Forgive the selfie-like atmosphere of the photos on the blog. It's me preening for the camera, but I made them for social media. This past weekend, Saturday and Sunday, I was at The Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum (see photo below) for the Harry Langdon Film Festival. It was great.

I'm kneeling in front of a re-creation of the backdrop of Harry's famous vaudeville routine, Johnny's New Car, which was done by the very talented Nicole Arciola, a leader in the Harry fan societies. Nicole, Tim Greer, Frances Anchenta Becker, and Langdon  biographer Gabriella Oldham, were all at the museum for the film festival. Also, I was able to meet persons I knew only from social media, Trav SD, Bill Cassara, and Paul F. Etcheverry. Many others were there enjoying a weekend of Langdon films, from several early silents including "Smile Please" "All Night Long," and "Saturday Afternoon," two silent features, "Tramp Tramp Tramp," and "The Strong Man," a couple of his Roach sound shorts, including "The Shrimp," several of his Educational Shorts, including "The Hitch Hiker,' and a sample of later Columbia shorts.

Trav SD spoke of Langdon's vaudeville days. Oldham did an excellent recap of his life. Cassara introduced a couple of films. The Vernon Dent biographer also provided interesting details on Langdon's frequent co-star, Dent. Genre experts who introduced films included James Neibaur, Steve Massa, Langdon biographer Michael Hayde and Ben Model.

I spoke at the festival on Langdon's final film, "Pistol Packin' Nitwits." My address was not captured in video or audio. In order to preserve it, I am presenting it below. It was my final working draft. I improvised some but all the details in it were addressed.

Finally, the wonderful staff at the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum were wonderful, and hard working, particularly Rena Kiehn and Paul Mular, both of whom seem to have an unlimited source of positive energy!

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Here are my remarks:

“Pistol Packin’ Nitwits” is my favorite Harry Langdon comedy short. I know it’s not his best comedy short, but it has such a delirious, chaotic completeness to it. And I love the co-stars, El Brendel, Christine McIntyre, Dick Curtis as the villain, Rawhide Pete, Brad King as the hero.

And it’s bittersweet to watch. This is the last work on film Harry Langdon performed. Returning from the studio, he complained of a headache, and eventually was diagnosed with the cerebral hemorrhage that killed him. At times I have tears in my eyes watching Harry dance in the film.

“Pistol Packin’ Nitwits” still has a healthy dose of the old vaudeville. Semi-scrupulous salesmen Harry and El Brendel pitch “high-quality” soap to clean tough stains like “axle grease.” Christine McIntryre sings. And there’s the soft-shoe dance routine with Langdon and Brendel.

“Pistol Packin’ Nitwits” blends several film genres to create something unique. In literature, there’s a term called slipstream. It’s defined as non-realistic fiction that crosses conventional genre boundaries to create a new piece of art.

This applies to film as well. Gary Rhodes and Robert Guffey, in their book “Bela Lugosi and the Monogram Nine,” argue that the hastily made, deadline-intensive, low-budget film world created chaotic, unique slipstream film art. The result often created surrealism.

One description of surrealism, as described by the scholar Andre Breton, cited in the book, is to “write quickly, … fast enough that you will not remember what you’re writing …”

Many of the Columbia comedy shorts are examples of slipstream plots with surrealism. “Pistol Packin’ Nitwits” as noted, is part vaudeville. It’s also part western film. It is also an old “’penny-dreadful” film of a young lovely, the saloon keeper, being terrorized by a boorish, threatening villain. It is also part musical, with McIntyre belting out the weepy song, “Father, Dear Father.” Finally, “Pistol Packin’ Nitwits” is part superhero film with the cowboy hero smiling as bullets fired by the villain bounce off his chest.

“Pistol Packin’ Nitwits” was released in 1945. The Captain America serial was released in 1944. No coincidence there, I’m sure.

Let’s talk more about surrealism. Andre Breton also described surrealism as the real meeting the fantastic to create an alternate reality. There’s a lot of alternate reality in “Pistol Packin’ Nitwits.” In one scene a cowboy is moved to tears by the song “Father, Dear Father.” But his tears fall in bizarre fashion, more as a stream than drops. Another alternate reality: villain Dick Curtis shoots constantly into our hero’s chest. Despite the impossibility of bullets bouncing of a chest, Curtis doesn’t seem surprised that his gun doesn’t work like it should.

And I consider surreal a sequence of quick-cut scenes where the hero is on his horse, racing back to the saloon to the tune of the William Tell Overture. Each interlude is brief to the point of surreal absurdity, lasting about a second.

Finally, in closing, let me stress that director Harry Edwards, the writers, and Harry Langdon and cast didn’t huddle together and say, ‘hey, let’s blend genres to create a work of art that’s both unique and surreal!’

Just like a cult film can’t be intentionally planned and crafted as such, neither was “Pistol Packin’ Nitwits.” They made a film. They had to do it quickly. They were on very tight budgets. They had to be super creative and super innovative. The creators used all their talents, genre knowledge and experience. To get the film finished on time, they threw everything into the pot, and created something unique and wonderful.

Three's a Crowd is Harry Langdon's costly masterpiece

Review by Doug Gibson

(This is our third original Plan9Crunch review this month of a Harry Langdon film. We are presenting these posts in recognition of the Harry Langdon Film Festival next weekend a the silent film history, Niles Film Museum in Fremont, Calif.)

There is a scene near the very end of "Three's A Crowd," 1927, that I find both heartbreaking and beautiful. Harry Langdon (No. 3) is about to lose No. 1, a beautiful young woman he has long pined for, and through a set of extraordinary events, managed to save the life of her and her newborn baby. For days she and the infant have recuperated at his meager tenement home up high above a long set of stairs. No. 3 (Harry) wishes for a fantasy. A charlatan has assured him that the young woman, who left an errant husband, will stay with Harry and both will raise the baby. But No. 2 (the prodigal husband) has returned, and No. 1 still loves him. They are leaving No. 3, and crushing a fantasy that deep down, he knows was impossible.

The minimalist comedian Harry Langdon, who ironically thrived in an era of slapstick, knockabout comedies, displays emotional chaos with his eyes, facial expressions, movements and other gestures. Once he looks down at the palm of his hand. The attentive viewer understands that is the palm the charlatan read before promising Harry romantic happiness with No. 2. Getting back to the crux of my point, just as the happy, reunited couple is leaving, with airy promises that No. 3 can visit them anytime, Harry clutches the sleeve of an overcoat draped over the woman. For just a moment, No. 3 caresses the wrist area of the sleeves. It's a fleeting moment, not noticed at all by the departing couple. But it's powerful, as it captures the deep reluctance and despair No. 3 has at losing what is literally his heart's desire.

Watch Three's a Crowd here.

I consider "Three's a Crowd" to be Harry Langdon's masterpiece silent film feature. He evolved his minimalist comic character -- who quietly through perhaps dumb luck and God's providence wins happiness and the girl in movies -- to a comic cipher who doesn't get the girl of his dreams, who doesn't find a place in the world, doesn't improve his financial means. In short, he is a survivor, who gets up every day and gets through it with a stoicism that only reveals emotion, and comedy appreciation, though gestures, both facial and body, and stubborn determination to both endure trials and create facsimiles of what he would like to have. (An example of this is found early in the film where Harry encounters a doll that looks a lot like him. Observing his boorish, bullying, and insecure, boss - Harry is an assistant to a trucker - playing with his young son, Harry imitates this by playing with his doll in the same manner.)

"Three's a Crowd" has a simple plot. No. 3, Harry, has a crush on a girl, No. 2, he has observed. Because she left her husband, No. 2, Harry is placed in a situation where he can both save her, get help for her when she gives birth, and provide her and baby space to recuperate. That leads to the climax previously discussed. There are greats bits of comedy in the film. Examples include Harry trying to get back through a trap door with a large curtain . Every time Harry tries to open the door to climb in, more curtain falls and he has to start over. More great comedy is Harry preparing a diaper for the infant. Daydreaming causes him to prepare it as a pie. There is a finale, epilogue scene that involves Harry returning to the false hypnotist's office. I won't give it away but it is laugh out loud comedy.

"Three's a Crowd" is a beautiful film to watch. The camera work of the surrounding area is perfect. As Gabriella Oldham notes in her biography, Harry Langdon: King of Silent Cinema, the star and director recreated a tenement neighborhood of three or four blocks on the studio, with 300 extras. Snow was realistically created in 90-degree California heat! The sights of tenement life, morning to evening, are captivating. I love the "snowstorm" scenes and individuals braving their way through the winds, bumping into poles, or the early-morning milk wagons, the busy late-morning afternoon streets, the lonely, steep staircase that leads to Harry's home.

I call "Three's a Crowd" a costly masterpiece. I acknowledge it has many detractors. It lost money and basically was the genesis of Harry Langdon's end as a leading features actor. Honestly, one can't blame First National Pictures for being angry with Langdon delivering a film so different from box office winners such as "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp," and "The Strong Man." And who can blame audiences, long accustomed to Langdon "Little Elfing-ing" his way to winning the girl and success, being nonplussed that the protagonist's lonely, dour life stays that way at the end?

But Langdon was evolving his character, and I think he succeeded. I urge readers to buy the KINO DVD release of "Three's a Crowd," paired with "The Chaser," and listen to David Kalat's commentary. He makes a strong case against the fabulist (when it came to Langdon) Frank Capra's criticisms that were, unfortunately, picked up by scholars like Leonard Maltin and others. "Three's a Crowd" was a financial bomb, but so was "The General," "Duck Soup" and many other films appropriately revered today. The late James Agee tabbed Langdon as one of the four comedy greats, along with Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd. He merits that. Unfortunately, Langdon's silent features are virtually ignored by Turner Classic Movies. I've never seen a silent feature aired. Occasionally the Sennett shorts are aired, and some of his Hal Roach early talkie shorts. That indifference is a sin of omission by TCM that needs to be repented of.

"Three's a Crowd" is often described as a cloying attempt to duplicate Chaplin's "The Kid." I disagree. Langdon is not Chaplin's Tramp. He is a silent, ignored working-class cipher, with a dream that falls into his lap. Unlike Chaplin's Tramp, who is perceptive enough to understand the kid needs his mom, Harry assumes a fantasy -- with a palm reader's urging -- that can't realistically occur. Chaplin's Tramp also ends "The Kid" with a clear guarantee that he can have a relationship in the future. Despite promises from the reunited couple in "Three's a Crowd," there is no sense that No. 3 has a rewarding future with the couple and their baby. How can he? He's No. 3.

Also, despite Harry's hopes, there's an entertaining dream sequence by Harry where he is fighting the husband to protect the woman and child. Despite encouragement from the woman, Harry loses the bout. In his own dream, No. 3 loses. It underscores that "Three's a Crowd" is a sad tale of unrequited desires with comedy. It's hard to please audiences expecting slapstick to dominate.

Please watch "Three's a Crowd" above. Watch it more than once. Enjoy Harry Langdon providing great comedy in an understated, minimalist manner. And then e-mail TCM and urge them to show "Three's a Crowd" or another Langdon silent feature on a Sunday night. It's about time. As much as I love "The Kid," "The General" or "The Freshman" on TCM, they've probably played 100 times the past generation. Audiences merit a chance to sample Langdon's genius.