Earlier this week, I found myself falling down a rabbit hole. With the realization that September 1 marked the centennial for Buster Keaton’s debut short One Week (1920), I began to watch a ton of silent movies and shorts, finding myself enamored with all of these amazing stories. It’s the type of journey that becomes difficult not to just get lost in, believing that cinema used to be better when you had to rely on the physical to move a story forward. Right now, I am on a bit of a silent comedy kick especially, recognizing what has made certain artists age far better than others.
Among The Holy Trinity of silent comedy icons is Keaton, Charles Chaplin, and Harold Lloyd. To be honest, it’s difficult to argue who is the best of them because they all represent something different in early film history. Keaton was your slapstick, able to capture the heart of the common man by facing overwhelming obstacles. Chaplin was the ideas man, able to convey complicated ideas through a joke as simple as a mechanical plate smashing food into his face.
Meanwhile, Lloyd feels like he’s been all but forgotten. If it wasn’t for Safety Last! (1923), he may be one of those names that nobody knows. Because of that film, he at least has some staying power thanks to an image of him dangling from a clock, several stories up. Given that the story is about climbing the edge of a building to impress a girl, it makes sense to make it as perilous as possible. I would go so far as to argue that it’s the only American silent film that could compete with Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928). It makes you feel the danger not only because of how practical it looks but because of how it makes you care.
Lloyd is much more difficult to pin down for me than Keaton or Chaplin. It’s partly because I’ve only seen two of his movies, the other being The Freshman (1925). Still, I would consider both masterpieces of the era. He creates these gags that stick with you, such as a loose string on a sweater that threatens to take down an entire social gathering. To be totally honest, I get what makes him appealing. It’s more than the pair of glasses that makes him seem homely, like the guy who would give you an extra dollar if you’re a bit short.
I don’t know why Lloyd has largely been forgotten. To me, he is easily more indicative of the 1920s and 1930s America than the other two. His stories are often not about a gag, but more the empathetic struggle to be seen as an equal, that this impish man is worthy of your respect. He’s a bit of a dweeb, but a lovable one who you want to see succeed. He reflects the best of us, at times altruistic. When he gets in over his head, you honestly care about where his journey goes. Maybe it’s just that the glasses have some subliminal play on the audience, but it totally works.
My third outing with Lloyd is Speedy (1928), and while I think of it as his third-best so far, I can’t deny that there is something to his charisma. He is a bit of a mensch, living in 1920s New York which even back then is comically fast. As the opening title cards suggest, you’re always doing things a day ahead of schedule. For Lloyd’s Speedy, that involves a strange rotating pattern of losing a job weekly yet still having enough money to attend Coney Island with his girlfriend.
More than the story itself, Speedy is worth watching for its portrayal of a New York from yesteryear. While Coney Island still exists, it doesn’t feel like it’s ever been represented as lively as this. There are whole sequences that exist for no other reason than to watch Speedy joyfully going onto a ride. Coney Island is so full of life, and it is captured perfectly on film, making things like the warped sidewalk or the miniature splash mountain look like welcoming attractions. It’s difficult to not see this as some travel agency’s propaganda because, by the end, you want to go there and see for yourself.
To be honest, half of Speedy exists without plot. It’s mostly an ambiance that you’re either going to enjoy or not. It’s a genuine hangout movie that becomes more interesting based on where their conversation is being had. Sure there are gags as simple as Speedy leaning on wet paint, or getting a lobster stuck in his back pocket, but it all paints this simple life. You want to see him succeed in spite of his endless bumbling mistakes. It’s a bit wacky, but his shining smile says it all. He has a joy for life, perfectly conflicted by the actual story that is one of the more harrowing economic tales that they could’ve gone for.
Pop Dillon (Bert Woodruff) is his girlfriend Jane’s (Ann Christy) grandfather. He reflects the common man more directly, having a horse-drawn trolley that he has been bumping up and down the street for years. He’s a popular stop until one day a contractor wants to put him out of business so that they can build over that spot. The only real loophole that they have is that Pop needs to not use the trolley for a 24 hour period, which causes them to want to sabotage the whole operation.
Speedy is our hero because he clearly cares about proving his worth to Jane. Even if he hasn’t kept a job longer than days, he’s still pushing himself and you kind of want the best for him. There’s so much empathy built into the relationship of Speedy and the Dillons, and it makes up for the fact that he sometimes seems too aloof, incapable of focusing on his goals for more than a few minutes. He’s seen losing jobs at great capacity before landing a taxi driver job that itself is a brilliant centerpiece in the film.
I’m not sure how well it would’ve played if Babe Ruth didn’t remain one of the most famous baseball players in history. The amount of star-gazing that his cameo has is a bit ridiculous. He’s introduced handing out signed baseballs to kids on street corners. When he asks Speedy to get him to Yankee Stadium, it leads to a sequence of comedic chaos. Speedy can’t keep his eyes on the road. He’s too eager to ask The Great Bambino a hundred questions. The famed athlete spends more time focused on the road than he does. In a sequence that would make The French Connection (1971) proud, he’s constantly driving around moving cars, evading death in one of the few truly harrowing pieces of the film.
The issue with Speedy is that he can’t escape trouble. This isn’t just about the trolley. At one point he gets pulled over for reckless driving, revealing that he doesn’t have a license. It starts a subplot where he has to avoid driving by the police or risk arrest. Similarly, Ruth invites Speedy to the game only to have him sit behind his taxi boss, who fires him for goofing off. Speedy can’t catch a break, constantly giving in to an impulse that again does plenty for the tourism board. Who wouldn’t want to live in New York when there are so many wonderful things to do? Even in the brief time inside Yankee Stadium, you’re caught up in the atmosphere, wanting to watch a few more innings.
I’ll admit that some things that Speedy does are obnoxious and if you met him in real life you’d want to get away from immediately. Imagine being driven around by him. You’d rather walk the 10 miles. Imagine sitting in front of him. He’ll whack your head with a newspaper. There’s a fine line between him being annoying and sweet, and yet it all helps to paint one of the more manic characters that he’s played. He’s such a free-spirit, so young and full of dreams that he’ll remind you of yourself. Even if you’ve never lost your taxicab in front of Yankee Stadium, I’m sure you’ll have horror stories from work that are funny by comparison.
Then there’s the trolley story, which becomes more central once Speedy’s other opportunities have folded and he’s left with nothing but to defend Pop’s honor. He tries to talk with the mobsters only to realize that they want to steal his trolley. With nothing better to do, he proceeds to end the film with one of the most astounding set pieces in the entire film. It’s a trolley chase scene through the streets, again running through moving cars, trying to save the day. He comes across a police mannequin and places it on the side, somehow giving him a pass from law enforcement.
The whole thing is this manic set piece that features a broken wheel and a community coming together to fix it. They pull off a sewer cover and use it as a back wheel. There are small creative touches like that. While this isn’t as iconic as hanging by a clock in Safety Last! or an unraveling sweater in The Freshman, it does play to what makes Lloyd such a compelling artist. He always ends with a grand gesture, and this somehow borderline chaotic nonsense is seen as virtuous because he’s fighting for the little man, who needs every penny to survive. In a story about economic struggles, he some manages to make a rickety trolley feel like the greatest achievement.
To be honest, I can understand why Lloyd isn’t nearly as revered as Keaton or Chaplin after watching this. It’s good, but the film is so much about the ideology of 1920s New York, of a culture that is fighting between mom and pop shops and capitalism. It’s one that’s relying on exuberance that isn’t timeless. I won’t fault you if you find Speedy a bit annoying, especially for his inability to keep his mind on one thing. As a fan of classic cinema, I’m just more used to this broad portrayal, which starts with rough edges but slowly drives into the heart of a man who truly cares. It works because it’s so exaggerated.
Though more than anything, I love how this film uses the atmosphere. It’s not Lloyd’s most complicated film physically. Save for gags where he’s hanging from moving cars, he’s not really ever in peril. However, it’s such a sweet fantasy of the have nots, managing to get a ride in a luggage van only to imagine what life would be if they had the nice couch and rug that’s stored inside. It’s a fantasy that has never gone out of fashion, and it speaks to everything about this story. They could have these joys if they applied themselves. They could be happy as they were at Coney Island once they find a stable job. However, like Pop’s trolley, it’s a fleeting task that needs to be held onto.
A random fun note about this film is that it was a cinematic first. While going through a hall of mirrors, Speedy raises a middle finger in defiance. It’s a comic bit made all the sweeter because of how fleeting it is. If you don’t have your pause button in hand, you’ll miss it. Still, it makes sense coming from him, a man who feels like his life will never amount to more than being a servant.
I definitely want to see more from Harold Lloyd because I do believe that there’s something enduring about his work. Even if this is his third-best movie for me, I think he does enough right that speaks to the nature of humanity. He’s the common man, fighting for his chance to excel and prove to the world that he’s worth so much more. It may not be as interesting an angle as his competitors, but like clockwork his finales will win you over, making you understand the finer things in life and believing that you too can succeed. Speedy is a film that feels immediately nostalgic. I want to live in this world, see the sights, and feel like I’m living in the center of something greater. I can’t say for sure what it is, but I love getting lost in it.
Comments
Post a Comment