The Strong Man

The peculiar talents of Harry Langdon are displayed to their fullest advantage in the baby-faced clown's best silent feature. Seen today, it's certainly the most accessible of his few surviving films, but Langdon's curious, childlike habits and demeanor, so totally bizarre in a character meant to be a functioning adult, may still leave many viewers scratching their head. The success of this particular film can be credited, in part, to director Frank Capra, who had the patience to nurture Langdon's unique pantomime skills, using long, extended takes in which the comedian could freely improvise. Capra's pious sentimentality can be cloying (the story involves a wholesome small town rescued from gamblers and bootleggers), but he gave Langdon all the elbow room the comedian needed to work his innocent, uncertain magic. Playing the hapless assistant to a vaudeville strong man, Langdon responded with more than one unforgettable routine, proving himself the equal to his better remembered peers in the art of silent comedy.

A shy young Belgian immigrate searches for the American girl who wrote of her love to him during the Great War.

Director Frank Capra and clown Harry Langdon together fashioned THE STRONG MAN, one of the finest comedies of the Silent Era. Moving the action from No Man's Land in Western Europe, to Ellis Island and the hectic streets of New York, and finally to the temporarily corrupted village of Cloverdale, Capra & Langdon expertly mix belly laughs with scenes of great emotional tenderness. If either of them had never made another film, this one would have been enough to have ensured each a footnote in movie history.

Langdon's minimalist style is highlighted in a series of vignettes which perfectly captures his unique adult baby persona: Harry's hilarious encounter with Broadway Lily, which includes his classic up-the-stairs-backward routine; Harry's finding of blind Mary Brown and the incredibly poignant way in which he immediately falls in love with her; Langdon's hapless impersonation of The Strong Man and his single-handed battle against a saloon full of bad guys.

A sturdy cast gives able support: Gertrude Astor as dangerous Lily; saintly William V. Mong as Holy Joe, the Cloverdale minister; Priscilla Bonner as sweet Mary; beefy Arthur Thalasso as The Great Zandow; Robert McKim as Cloverdale's wicked criminal boss; and Brooks Benedict as a tough passenger encountered by Harry on a bus.

A quick caricature of Harry, dressed in his policeman's uniform from the end of the movie, appears courtesy of Walt Disney at the beginning of the animated MICKEY'S GALA PREMIER (1933).

"Corny"is a word that seems to have gone out of use. Never a sterling compliment, corny meant something homespun & sentimental manufactured to manipulate our nostalgia for "the good old days". Probably the reason the word is now extinct is that people under forty don't seem to have any "good old days" to look back on. That is an issue not to be dealt with here. Rather, let us recall the corny glory that was Harry Langdon in The Strong Man. Sexless & guiless, he can muster nothing more intimidating than petulance. A true child of comedy, his white face is rather more round than Stan Laurel's but just as vacant. That face is an inconstant tabla rasa, on which external events can impress fear, joy, and love for a moment. The storyline fits Langdon like a glove; it is Evil versus Good, with Harry the Good triumphant at the end more by slapstick grace than any wit or daring on his part. You have to have a corny mindset to enjoy this movie; to wit, there are bad & bullying people in the world who deserve an antic comeuppance & extinction. If you can hold that naive thought while watching this beautiful comedy you may find yourself, as I have, actually crying through the laughter at the loving watchcare the God of comedy gives great clowns like Langdon in their most threatening pickles. The most wondrous moment of the film occurs during the rally at the end, when with barbells, cannon, and a huge fire curtain, Langdon subdues an insolent, drunken crowd. Langdon begins walking over the curtain,which is covering the writhing crowd beneath it, and suddenly dozens of hands pop through the curtain, twisting like serpents in Dante's Inferno. It is a hilarious visual gag and an apt summary of the consequences of the crowd's evil hubris. This silent gem cannot be ignored by anyone who loves cornball pantomime -- a genre apparently as dead as our ideals. Woe is us!

Having read the comment proceeding my own, I felt compelled to write a brief comment about this film (that I watched yesterday).

Sadly the previous reviewer didn't laugh a single time, which is in direct conflict with my own experience, I laughed out loud at several places in the film (and I watched it at 4:00am, so laughing out loud isn't ideal!) I enjoyed just about every aspect of the film, from the actors to the set-pieces, to the silly and poignant. There is even one moment of pure cinematic brilliance when a last curtain/sheet tears into shreds (when you see the film you'll know the sequence I'm talking about) which I thought was visually arresting.

Sadly we are too often drawn to categorize and judge films based on what is "best" or "more worthy". It seems every film must be judged against the very best at all times. I think this is a little unfair, and prefer to maintain a more open mind.

The bottom line was, this film actually did make me laugh out loud, and I was entertained throughout. From the opening sequences on the battlefield to the finale at that den on inequity. I highly recommend it to everyone, and it's certainly worth seeking out.

10 out of 10 for me, I'm going to rewatch this tonight with my good wife. Good times!

I saw this movie tonight at the 11th annual Kansas Silent Film Festival at Washburn Univ., Topeka, KS. Organ music was provided by Dr. Marvin Faulwell with percussion by Bob Keckeisen.

I'd never seen Harry Langdon before and, on the basis of this, would rate him in the company of Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd. He has great timing, poignant facial expressions that are somewhat Chaplinesque, with great body control to fit physical comedy.

Frank Capra was the director and I understand from our discussion that Capra's autobiography thoroughly "dissed" Harry, apparently in revenge for Harry having fired the young Capra from directing any more of his films. The two originally had been close until that point but had frosty relations after. Our discussion leader said many people are now beginning to re-evaluate Capra's revengeful pique, the significance of Langdon's contribution, and appreciate him much more.