The Kings of Silent Comedy

My exposure to the silent-era comedians courtesy of Mother’s Pizza led me to research and seek out the great silent clowns, as Walter Kerr called them.

Charlie Chaplin: the superstar of the silent era. His movies seem dated now (theatre-style compositions, a wide maudlin streak), but he is still an important teacher. Chaplin used characters to create comedy rather than stringing together a series of gags (pay attention, Mike Myers), and he spent his career trying to find the perfect blend of comedy and tragedy.

Buster Keaton: a man before his time. Watch any of his shorts or features and you’ll see the roots of modern comedy filmmaking, with the naturalism and cinematography of our movies today. Watch his masterpiece, The General—there’s not a wasted frame in that tightly controlled, well-told story, and the film ranks as one of the best ever made. Where Chaplin’s tramp instantly mastered any task thrown his way, Buster’s poor sap would struggle before mastering anything.

Harry Langdon: the man-sized infant. His comic persona was that of a baby trapped in a grown man’s body, and he puts it to good use by putting that character into unsavory places as often as possible. He was the master of making the little things bigger than the big things. A glance, a stunned stare held for a beat—Harry was the master of understatement, but he made every gesture and beat stronger for it. Watch The Strongman if you can.

Harold Lloyd: the go-getter. It’s possible to watch the development of Harold Lloyd’s “glass character” through the surviving shorts. By the time he’d fully developed the character, he was creating great comedy that rivals that of Chaplin and Keaton. He was the king of the “thrill comedy,” with Safety Last being his finest effort.

Laurel & Hardy: two gods of comedy, no waiting. Most people have seen the duo’s sound-era shorts, but they did quite a few silents as well. I’ve seen parts of their silents in some of the Youngson re-releases. The characters are overgrown children, polite and well-meaning, but placed in their well-crafted stories they fail time and time again. The Music Box is one of the best comedy shorts ever made, but any of their shorts are gems. I love Towed in a Hole and Me and My Pal. Stan Laurel was a great craftsman, writing and editing their output. Their later features aren’t as good as those shorts are, but they are still a lot of fun. Laurel & Hardy took action and reaction and set them to a comfortably slow pace, allowing the gags to build on each other, with some of the finest physical comedy on film.

Interestingly, these great clowns, all long-gone, have official websites. There is hope that future generations will know their work.