The epitome of Arbuckle and Keaton's flash-over-substance tendencies. Every last storytelling beat exists solely to maneuver the comic duo into a new backdrop for adlibs and pratfalls. Silent comedy two-reelers will never be known for their rich themes and steep character arcs, but The Cook seems egregious even by those low standards.
Which isn't to say it's without merit. Actually, I really enjoyed myself. The bulk of the film finds our heroes working a high-end restaurant - Arbuckle in the kitchen, Keaton waiting tables - and, despite revisiting a few bits from their first partnership in 1917's The Butcher Boy, remains largely original, averaging a laugh every quarter-minute. It's stuffed with comic gold, from the little throwaway gags (Fatty tossing finished meals over his shoulder, Buster smoothly snatching them from the air) to the more elaborate productions (an explosive, dish-smashing dance number before a raucous dining room). Arbuckle's famous pet bull terrier, distinguished enough to merit his own lengthy Wikipedia entry, even enjoys a few wonderful guest spots as the mayhem spills out to the streets and beyond.
The Cook is great fun - pure, unchained visceral comedy - if you can shut your mind to the dumb plot and just enjoy the sheer physical spectacle of it all.
