The Fatal Glass of Beer

This early short subject, beloved to some of us; really shows one of the great qualities that would set his (best) comedy apart: he was strange. Not exactly verbal comedy, nor really slapstick, W.C. seemed to create his own oddball universe much like, but never quite, ours.

I loved this short from the first time I saw it as a kid, and I think it's one of a kindness really makes it his best (though others are quite funny.) Mack Sennett wanted something more in the way of conventional slapstick; Feilds had to fight for this; which is in part a spoof of sentimental wilderness poetry about Alaska.

Nobody liked it at the time. Fields himself said, "maybe it's not good. But I like it." Thank Godness he stuck by his guns and went on to create his own one of a kind comedy world.

When this film was released in 1933, the majority of reviews were negative and even hostile. The film was hated and vilified; audiences and theatre owners found it tacky and cheap. They missed the whole point. The film is a sharp satire of both the Mellerdrammers of the early twentieth century and of studio filmmaking. Fields and Bruckman were too incisive as comics not to have done everything in this film very deliberately. From the overly obvious sets to the absolute WORST background projection ever seen, the film is a sly poke in Hollywood's eye and that's where its humor comes from. I just about wet myself the first time I saw Fields go out to "milk the elk". He stands in front of a background projection of elk in the snow and begins calling to them. When they start to run, they grow larger and larger, dwarfing the non-plussed Fields. Sadly, since this is a public domain title, it's hard to find a good copy of it. About the best I've seen is on the "6 Films by W.C. Fields" LD or DVD

I first saw this send-up of "the prodigal son" in a film course. I think my teacher and I were the only 2 people laughing. I was astonished that a film that looks like it was filmed in a garage could make my face hurt. It has a wonderfully screwy story arc, and corny gags. It's all over the place and ends abruptly, but I love it.

The Vaudeville origins of some corny bits (the snow gag) amuse. Other motifs of the period are not worthy of inclusion, but what little writing there is makes me laugh as hard as anything recent. Fields' hogwash title ditty is pretty terrific. I especially love a few of the sight gags, including a runt of a dog on a sled team, a leggy salvation army gal, and W.C. calling for Lena the elk. The sound quality is heinous, but the arbitrary scene changes relieve some of the tedium and claustrophobia of other Fields shorts (The Golf Specialist).

It mocks everything in sight; staginess, melodrama, piety, propriety, actors who mispronounce words. I don't know that there any other 18 minutes of film make me smile as much as this ridiculous little movie.

I take this to be a satire on the original "Fatal Glass of Beer" of thirteen years earlier (directed by Todd Browning!) and a poke in the eye of all maudlin movies about remorse and the return of the prodigal son.

It's the Canadian Northwest during a brutal blizzard. Fields, all wrapped up, sings a sad song to a visiting Mountie while playing the dulcimer with a massive mitten. bringing the listener to tears.

Returning home to his wife after "milking the moose", he finds his son returning home after being released from prison, sentenced after having had a single glass of beer that prompted him to steal some valuable bonds.

"Tell me, son, what did you do with the bonds?" And then guess what happens.

Funniest running gag. Five times -- count 'em -- five, Field stands in a doorway and proclaims that it's not a fit day out for man or beast, and has a bucket full of fake snow thrown in his face from offscreen.

Not Field's best. It's lost some luster over the years because maudlin movies are harder to find. Today, Fields satire would have to be directed at action movies.

This is quite possibly the crown jewel in the long and illustrious career of an extremely troubled and very funny man. Fields has a field day sending up a style of melodrama popular at the time. At one and the same time, this is atypical of Fields' work generally, but still has his fingerprints all over it as well. Highlights are far too numerous to list, but Fields's rendition of the song, "The Fatal Glass of Beer" (you can't really accurately call it singing), the running gag, "It ain't a fit night out for man or beast" and the ending are hilariously perfect, with a sense of timing of which Chaplin would have been proud. Most joyously recommended