Le balourd

Country bumpkin Peter Good is heartbroken to see his crush Amy fall for city guy Harry Benson. Hard-drinking Cactus Jim gives him a cowboy makeover, but it doesn't work on the girl. He suspects that Benson is a bootlegger and intends to take down the criminal.

I'm not here to sing high praises for this movie. My best complement goes to the dog. It's not great cinema, but the story is functional. There are fine elements. Peter and Cactus Jim are fine. I wouldn't give two seconds to Amy. She's meaningless. I don't really understand the premise of the old lady. It should be more compelling for the three characters and the dog to go off on an adventure together. Whatever. I like the dog.

I recently viewed this film on Turner and found it to be an extremely enjoyable silent comedy. I was originally only interested in seeing Joan Crawford at this early point in her career. I thought the story line, while rather absurd, allowed the various situational "jokes" to be accomplished neatly. Interestingly, I found nothing in the role of the young black actor which was racist, an oddity considering the age of this movie. Perhaps denying him any credit for his work was deemed sufficient punishment. It was apparent that some portion of the script was edited out, since nothing was ever developed regarding the other ladies' objections to the elderly woman's "relationship" with the George K. Arthur character. Ultimately, the main attraction of this film is its absolutely stunning photography, courtesy of the great William H. Daniels. With the exception of some interior scenes, this was filmed like a collection of beautifully composed 19th century still photographs. Incidentally, I agree with the earlier commenter who thought the hero should have dumped Amy.

There's a minor subgenre of silents in which a small town full of country folks somehow supports a lavish speakeasy filled with hundreds of folks in tuxedos, until the country folks toss them out. This has some connection to 1920s reality, as little towns comfortably in the sticks suddenly found themselves a short drive from a big city by car, and easily corrupted by big city money; places like Cicero and Calumet City, Illinois became wholly owned subsidiaries of the Chicago mob, and even Southern Wisconsin, for instance, is dotted with roadhouses and "inns" boasting "Al Capone slept and gambled here." You rarely if ever see the big city in movies like The Country Flapper, Delicious Little Devil, The Strong Man or The Boob; the tuxedo-wearing swells seem to generate spontaneously at night, like mushrooms.

The Boob is one of these tales and it suggests that by 1926, the subgenre was familiar enough that it could be kidded and caricatured along the way; the movie is full of broad, humor as well as a special effects dream sequence that seems to have walked straight in out of Winsor McCay's Dreams of a Rarebit Fiend. George K. Arthur is The Boob, Peter Good, whose girl May has fallen for the big city swell who runs the speakeasy (which, speaking of lavish, was apparently a redressed Ben-Hur set!).

After an old-timer teaches him the rudiments of being a rootin-tootin' gunslinger, he sets out after the speakeasy and its owner like Bill Hart in Hell's Hinges, and in a farcical manner reminiscent of The Strong Man, he does bring it down, if not exactly as he planned. If you doubt that The Strong Man was the model, note that Joan Crawford turns up in the decidedly thankless, if at least impressively feminist, role of a big city law enforcement agent whose bestowal of approval on Arthur helps him eventually win May over.

Boob, The (1926)

** (out of 4)

William A. Wellman directed this comedy about a farm boy (George K. Arthur) who has his dreams dumped on when the girl he loves (Gertrude Olmstread) falls for a bootlegger. This film is heavily influenced by Keaton, Lloyd and Chaplin but it never reaches those heights because it's just not that funny. The funny joke is that the film takes place in the 1920s and an old cowboy makes the farm boy dress up as if it were the 1820s. There are a few funny moments but for the most part all the jokes fall flat on their face. Arthur makes for a rather poor leading man but Joan Crawford is good in her small role. Olmstread is decent in her role but it's another role where our hero falls for a woman who is a bitch throughout the movie. The one thing that sets this film apart is that Arthur's best friend in the movie is a small black boy and the film never plays down to racial jokes or racial stereotypes, which is certainly rare for this era.

The Boob is one of those ancient films rescued from perpetual obscurity by Turner Classic Movies, and while it may not be on a par with Keaton or Lloyd, it's still an entertaining and quite funny film. George K. Arthur is the Keatonesque milquetoast on the trail of bootleggers, and while he lacks Buster's acrobatic skills and doesn't really connect emotionally, he's alright. Charles Murray has some of the film's funniest moments as the perpetually soused cowboy Cactus Jim, but the film really stands out during some terrific fantasy sequences, including a flying bed scene and a Frederick Remington painting come to life. A genuine discovery for fans of silent comedy.