You're Darn Tootin'

You're Darn Tootin', released in 1928, is one of Laurel & Hardy's last silent shorts. There is no high-brow humor, no Andy Kaufman what's-he-really-doing-here angst, and the closest thing to sophisticated word play comes when Stan throws Ollie's horn under a steam roller and, after trying to get the now half-inch thick instrument to toot, Ollie deadpans to the camera and a placard announces "It's flat."

You can see the fine hand of legendary comedic actor Edgar Kennedy in his direction. Kennedy's fortes – the slow burn and intricate interactions with props – are the centerpieces here, from the fiddle bow and music sheet sequence early on to the gradual acceleration from annoyance to mayhem and utter anarchy at the end.

Stan and Ollie destroy a band concert, get fired, evicted, and fight with each other and everyone else who so much as passes by. The big finale is the infamous pants-ripping scene. "You're Darn Tootin'" is pure slapstick and low-brow humor. It's also the funniest twenty minutes ever committed to film.

Warning: do not watch this film without a change of underwear available.

This is the story of two musicians who played neither by note no ear, instead they used brute strength. On the night in question the orchestra leader was making his farewell appearance – something the public had been demanding for years. Fired for messing this up the pair find themselves out of their house as well as they are already 14 weeks late with the rent. On the city streets with only their instruments the pair find it hard going earning money.

Shown as part of BBC3's generally good documentary series on silent comedy legends "Silent Clowns", this Laurel and Hardy short is one of the very few silent films of theirs I have seen. I do love their "talky" short films and looked forward to this. It took a minute or two to get used to the lack of audible jokes and the short does demonstrate that this was something they wanted, because the title cards are mostly funny and not solely used to describe plot. Naturally though the vast majority of this is physical comedy, which for fans will be just fine because they still deliver this really well.

It is impressive how the pair do so much with very basic routines and obvious gags. The opening orchestra scene is funny and, after a bridge scene, the streets produce some good laughs leading up to the famous sidewalk chaos bit. Newcomers might not see what the fuss is about (this is always the risk – some viewers just watch L&H and think "all been done before", missing the point that no, it has all been done since) but fans will take to it despite the lack of sound. As always Laurel and Hardy work really well together, trading laughs off one another and delivering their parts equally well. Kennedy's directorial approach is wisely to pretty much just point and shoot.

Overall an enjoyable and funny silent short that Laurel and Hardy fans will lap up even if, like me, those accustom to sound will feel its absence.

More of a collection of loosely linked sketches than a plot, You're Darn Tootin' builds to a crescendo which finds a dozen men doing battle in the street without their trousers.

This amusing, clever short feature is a pretty good example of the way that Laurel & Hardy, at their best, could get a lot of mileage out of a few simple ideas. While many of the gags have been done before, frequently by Stan and Ollie themselves, the material works and provides good laughs thanks to their expert timing, funny mannerisms, and creative use of props. The wild sidewalk fracas is probably the best-remembered part of "You're Darn Tootin'", but perhaps the wittiest sequence is the opening scene on the bandstand, which packs quite a few laughs into a short time. Any Laurel & Hardy fan should enjoy this one.

This is a first rate Laurel & Hardy comedy, a near perfect example of what they do best. I've long considered it one of their most enjoyable silent films and, for that matter, one of the best short comedies they ever made. The story follows a basic three-act structure, solidly constructed yet loose enough to allow for plenty of gags along the way. It builds steadily from the opening sequence to the wild climax, all beautifully photographed. (Ahhh, the sunny streets of Culver City!) You're Darn Tootin' is one of only two L&H comedies directed by their frequent co-star Edgar Kennedy (the other is From Soup to Nuts), and based on the results in both cases it's too bad Kennedy didn't direct Laurel & Hardy more often, as he demonstrated a real flair for their brand of comedy. The boys themselves -- who still look pretty boyish at this early stage of their career -- responded well to his direction, likely because they'd worked harmoniously as fellow performers.

Here Stan and Ollie play a pair of hapless musicians whose professional status declines sharply in the course of one disastrous day. We begin with a band concert in a public park that starts placidly but turns rowdy; we proceed to a quieter albeit amusing mid-section at the boys' boarding house, where they're behind on paying their rent; and we conclude with a grand finale of contagious shin-kicking, pants- ripping, and other harrowing acts of civic chaos, all topped with a memorable sight gag as the pay-off. The opening scene at the park is so methodically timed and builds so rhythmically you can practically hear the music, even when watching a mute print. (In the 1960s the sequence was given a nicely synchronized musical track by Robert Youngson for his compilation The Further Perils of Laurel & Hardy.) For me, the best moments often can be found in the smaller gestures rather than in the vistas of full-scale mayhem. Watch the guys' faces during the medium two-shot at the boarding house dinner table, all filmed in a single take, when Stan takes the tops off the salt and pepper shakers, uses each condiment on his soup, and then fails to replace the tops properly. Ollie falls victim to this maneuver not once but twice, first dumping too much salt into his soup and then too much pepper. We know what's coming, but somehow our anticipation of this little disaster translates into amusement. And they make it look so natural! We're amazed when Buster Keaton blithely crashes a bicycle and sails over the handlebars, but with Laurel & Hardy it's the nuances that score the biggest laughs. Nuances, such as the play of Ollie's fingers as he delicately breaks the crackers into his soup, soup that we know is about to be ruined because he's not paying attention as Stan takes the top off the pepper shaker. Ollie takes such pleasure in breaking up those crackers it borders on heart-wrenching, and he looks so crushed when his soup gets ruined, but even so, we laugh.

Everything comes to a head in the unforgettable finale, when the boys try to make a go of it as street buskers. Needless to say, they fail. And then argue, and manage to draw an alarming number of passersby into their violent quarrel. We find once again that it doesn't take much to start a major riot in Culver City. On some level I suppose I enjoy these "total warfare" sequences because they use slapstick to cheerfully confirm our worst suspicion about humanity: i.e. that just under the veneer of civilized behavior, whether disguised in the natty suits and snap-brim hats of the 1920s or the clothes of today, we're quite ready to drop all pretense of civility and clobber each other for the most stupid reasons imaginable, or for no reason at all. That's what I love about the comedy of Laurel & Hardy: their films represent society as we know it, exaggerated only slightly. Which, when you think about it, is kind of appalling.