Un homme courageux

Stan arrives in the wild west, no place for a timid, mild mannered man! He's inherited a saloon from his uncle, unless he dies in which case it goes to his two cousins! It's not a bad film at all, I've only seen a few of Stan Laurel's comedies before he teamed up with Ollie but they are quite good and this one deserves a looking at if you're into the silent stuff. I'd give this one 7/10.

Long before Hal Roach teamed him with Oliver Hardy, Stan Laurel was a pretty good silent screen comic. West Of Hot Dog is a good example as to how he honed his comic persona to what we know from his days as a part of a team.

Stanley is a tenderfoot traveling west to claim an inheritance and it's a considerable bit of cash and real estate including a saloon that's a favorite watering hole for a gang of outlaws. And guess who the other claimants in the will are? None other than the outlaws whom we see holding up the stagecoach that Stanley is on and giving him a taste of the west.

West Of Hot Dog has a bit of Laurel&Hardy's Way Out West, Abbott&Costello's The Wistful Widow Of Wagon Gap and Bob Hope's The Paleface. The short subject has spawned some even better successors, but this one is pretty good as well and shows Laurel as a great solo act comedian.

The opening sequence of this two-reel comedy will strike a familiar chord for Laurel & Hardy fans: we find Stan, still working solo at this point, looking dapper but decidedly out of place in the Wild West as he rides in a stagecoach, alongside an attractive young woman. We soon learn that he's traveling to the town of Hot Dog to collect an inheritance from a recently deceased relative; and we're reminded of Stan and Ollie, wearing their tenderfoot derbies and tailcoats, traveling out to Brushwood Gulch to deliver a deed to Mary Roberts. It's a dozen years 'til Way Out West, and unlike that film West of Hot Dog is no classic, but this modest effort does have its moments, and for latter-day viewers may suggest a dress rehearsal of sorts for the 1937 gem Stan would make with Babe Hardy.

The stagecoach in which our hero is riding is robbed by outlaws while Stan, no hero after all, struggles to keep his pants up and is generally ineffectual. His fellow passenger (i.e. the lady) is disgusted with his cowardice, and gives him the cold shoulder when they meet later in the town of Hot Dog. But Stan has other things on his mind: he has learned during a visit to a lawyer's office that he is but one of three heirs to the estate, and, as it happens, the other two claimants are the guys who held up the stagecoach! Stan is the primary heir, but if he should die then the estate will be split between the others. (Sounds like Set-Up City, doesn't it?) In the film's most memorable bit, the other two guys attempt to eliminate their rival by simply flinging him out the window of the lawyer's office. Three times in succession we see Stan hurled out the second floor window to the ground below. No, we actually see a dummy repeatedly hurled out the window, at which point a groggy-looking Stan takes its place on the ground thanks to elementary camera trickery, but the trick is smoothly accomplished and the sequence earns its laughs.

Instead of wasting any more time attempting to kill Stan, who appears to be indestructible, the bad guys join up with a larger gang and rob the saloon, then head for a remote hideout. Stan, coincidentally, heads for the very same place, where the bad guys attempt to finish him off. Things get rather macabre in the finale, for one by one the outlaws somehow manage to shoot each other while Stan emerges unscratched. (A lot of the comedy here is pretty dark: in an earlier sequence in the saloon, a man killed a card game dispute is briskly dumped through a trap-door, in business borrowed from the Roscoe Arbuckle/Buster Keaton comedy Out West.) Eventually, the townspeople come to believe that Stan is a hero merely because he survived the massacre in the hideout, and the young lady from the stage coach—who turns out to be the sheriff's daughter—is suddenly interested in him. But Stan, now playing the Strong Silent Type who rides alone, strikes a tragic posture and asserts his independence . . . just in time for a closing gag that makes him look foolish again.

As this summary should indicate, West of Hot Dog is a cartoon-y silent comedy with all the dramatic heft of the average Ben Turpin two- reeler, but that's not a put-down. It's the cinematic equivalent of a Popsicle, and nothing's wrong with that on a hot summer afternoon. This outing actually holds up better than a number of Laurel's other solo efforts: there's a steady supply of gags and a coherent (if silly) plot, while Stan's own characterization is more appealing than it was in some of his other vehicles. Viewers interested in tracing the development of this great comic talent should definitely give it a look.

Another early Stan Laurel short that provides us with only fitful glimpses of the natural comic talent he possessed, this one features him as a greenhorn in the wild west who finds himself at the end of Bad Mike's pistol. There's nothing particularly original about the story or the gags here, and you get the distinct impression that everybody involved was simply making it up as they went along (which wasn't out of the ordinary back in Hollywood's early days). Much is made of Stan's slight stature and his effeminate ways, but his habit of being frightened by everything is very one-note and quickly starts to wear thin.

This is quite a funny short, in which Stan travels to the wild west. It includes good comedy acting by Stan, especially during the hold-up scene at the start, probably the funniest scene in the movie. The shoot-out scene is well constructed, and works well. This is one of many parodies Stan made for Joe Rock during 1924-1925, before joining Hal Roach. The film will appeal to fans of Stan Laurel, and people who generally like silent comedy.