Man on the Flying Trapeze

Ambrose Wolfinger, memory expert & severely henpecked husband, sometimes feels like he's going to lose his grasp on life and fall into very deep trouble - kind of like that old MAN ON THE FLYING TRAPEZE.

W.C. Fields was at a lofty point in his career when he appeared in this hilarious little comedy. The second highest paid star at Paramount - only Mae West received more - he had just returned from MGM where he was featured as Wilkins Micawber in the all-star version of DAVID COPPERFIELD. Ill health would soon begin to stalk him again as a result of his dipsomania, but here he was wonderfully whimsical, whether dealing with spiteful in-laws, bullying traffic cops or bungling burglars in the cellar. With a handful of performances like this, Fields was to take permanent possession of a unique place in American film history.

Playing the two she-dragons Fields must face & fight are Kathleen Howard as his wife, and elderly Vera Lewis as her mother. Both excellent actresses, their scenes are waspish & wickedly funny and it is easy to see how together they could drive a normal male to distraction. It is unfortunate that these two skilled ladies are now nearly forgotten.

Grady Sutton is well cast as Fields' indolent, pouting brother-in-law; his comeuppance is richly deserved. That's Walter Brennan & Tammany Young as the crooning crooks who find themselves far from the banks of the Wabash.

It is interesting to note that the two women in the film who vigorously defend Fields also had close relationships with him outside the Studio. Mary Brian, as his daughter, was a longtime friend & neighbor of Fields. They had appeared together in the silent version of the story - RUNNING WILD - and Fields insisted on her inclusion in the talkie remake. Carlotta Monti, as Fields' faithful secretary, was also his longtime mistress. A part of his life for many years, she was at his side when he died on Christmas Day, 1946.

In terms of comedic concept, this is Fields' greatest film. A seemingly minor domestic comedy about a henpecked husband, it is so well developed that most people miss the actual humor because they're probably looking for vulgar, low laughs.

The film opens with the classic "burglars in the basement" passage. Put-upon Ambrose Wolfinger (typically ridiculous Fields persona name), under the pretense of brushing his teeth (rubbing the toothbrush on the sink to ruse his shrewish wife into thinking he's making with concerted oral hygiene). His wife implores him to "please come to bed" while he's more interested in having a few nightcaps.

We learn, right off the bat, that dear Ambrose is a bit circumspect and somewhat quietly manipulative and apparently angry, but, this is a survivor's profile.

Meanwhile, the burglars (including a young Walter Brennan) break into the basement and find his cache of home-made applejack. They help themselves to a few libations and get quickly soused (must have been a wicked brew), and make more noise. Wolfinger's wife rouses him from sleep to go and investigate, and he, not being in any hurry to confront danger, does that elaborate routine while putting on his socks. When she insists that he take his gun with him, and it accidentally goes off, he's genuinely disappointed that the bullet didn't hit her. His call to the "Safety Patrol" is hilarious.

Then, after a spectacular fall down the basement steps, he starts drinking with the burglars and they become fast friends, ending up singing songs from some obscure boys' glee club from Wolfinger's past. The Safety Patrol finally shows up, and hauls Wolfinger off for making illegal hooch and the burglars get away. Ironic. Brilliant.

While in jail, there's that truly great scene of him in the cell with the homicidal maniac. One of the funniest three minutes of film ever recorded.

The bit with him eating burnt toast at the breakfast table the next morning is really great. Truly eating crow.

Then, at work as a "Memory Expert" with a filing system that's a total wreck, the satire of business can't be missed. Seeing that we're supposedly living in an "Information Age," his gross mismanagement of such is a prescient statement about the know-nothings who took over the Office World about 60 years after this film was shot.

Then, comes the central comic trope of the film, his desire to attend the wrestling matches (another present-day obsession of the slobs out there) and creating a bogus reason to take off him work during the afternoon (i.e., his priggish mother-in-law, a teetotaler, dying suddenly due to "bad alcohol"). He gets off from work for the first time in 25 years and goes to the match without a ticket because his original one was pinched by his oafish step-son.

On the way, he runs into his double-hott secretary, whose mother is apparently a good friend of one of the grapplers, Kukalaka Mishobob ("Ah, Kukalaka, didn't know his first name," Wolfinger says.), and they go into the arena together. At that point, Mishobob's opponent, "Tossoff, the Russian Giant" hurls his foe out of the ring, knocking Wolfinger to the ground. His secretary runs to his aid.

At that moment, the aforementioned step-son shows up and sees the spectacle of Wolfinger witless on the cobbles, apparently drunk, in the company of some young babe. Of course, he rushes straight home to report this.

Here you have willful and dimwitted duplicity backfiring, and false presumptions of an observer misreading a situation, which affords the ability to extend the comic conceit. This is total genius.

Meanwhile, Wolfinger's employer has contacted the newspapers about the supposed death of his mother-in-law, and notice of it shows up in the afternoon edition (remember those?) at the Wolfinger residence. Flower arrangements start showing up at the house. Obviously, the Home Front gets outraged about this.

Our Hero, thinking that he has totally gotten over, goes home, not knowing what's waiting for him there.

The structuring of all of this is masterful, and Fields' playing of it is totally right-on.

Of course, all works out well for him in the end. Although fired, his office can't operate without him operating his arcane filing system, and the firm is hoodwinked into rehiring him at a higher salary with a four-week vacation slated before he returns to work.

The final scene shows Wolfinger, his wife (who comes over to his side) and daughter going for a ride in the family car, with the mother-in-law and step-son sitting in the rumble seat during a driving rain. The true second-class pinheads get their comeuppance. Justice prevails.

The storyline of this film is absurd, but, so logical in comedic terms. Comedy is a series of mistakes that leads through a process of ensuing error that reaches a point of pain that must be endured. And, we, the observers, are totally in on the joke, but, the actors aren't.

Great film. Much more intelligent than any of that "American Pie" and Adam Sandler doo-doo that tries to pass itself off as comedy.

Comedy is funny. I mean that it is odd in addition to being amusing. You can laugh and also wonder about why and maybe even laugh at that.

Film comedy is different than other comedy, say written comedy.

My own notions of film are that everything essential was worked out in the thirties when competing concepts elbowed each other and we ended up with the rough cinematic vocabulary we have now. Nowhere is this more true than with straight humor.

Since that time, we've developed a complex notion of the humors of irony, but what I'm talking about here is people directly depicting funny stuff.

So when you go back, you find a few innovators, something like the few jazz inventors of the 50s. What they did is pure by retrospective definition. Going back helps you discover yourself: are you a Keaton man? Chaplin, Arbuckle, Marx, Laurel?

W C Fields is one that you should experience. I liked his "Sucker" movie the best because it was his last and most mature; and the story dealt with him as Fields and the studios telling him he wasn't funny.

Here is his best early film where he does his thing. It is in the vaudeville tradition of being a bunch of loosely connected skits. But it is highly cinematic humor, just not the sight gags you see with the others. It depends all on timing.

The first sequence is the best. Our man is preparing for bed. He sneaks drinks while his witchy wife complains (in a separate bed, as this is post-code). The key joke here is him taking his socks off.

If you haven't seen it, I know this sounds odd, but Fields taking his socks off is hilarious. It takes forever. Then they hear intruders below and he puts his socks back on, taking almost as long. It is a truly precious lesson in investing in laughter. It isn't explosive. It isn't particularly subtle or clever. It is just reality bent in a complex rubato that we have to take the time to relish.

Terrific. I watched that one scene several times.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

Burglars singing in the cellar scene is hysterical. "What are they singing?" Fields asked his distraught wife. The breakfast scene where his wife reads poetry while Fields finds nothing to eat. "And best of all," she declares, "it has no punctuation." Fields in jail with a killer. "I had three wives, and this is the first one I've ever killed." "That's very much in your favor," notes Fields. This film is wonderful. It is a shame it's not available on video.

I consider this title, along with "It's A Gift", to be the best work of W.C. Fields entire career. He isn't a carnival huckster or a flim-flam man here...no top hat and double breasted suit. He's just a lower middle-class husband dealing with a lazy brother-in-law, shrewish wife and meddlesome mother-in-law. He's a classic case of what we would call today "passive-aggressive", a brow-beaten man who appears to have given up on asserting himself with his family, deferring to everyone around him, but still managing to do what he wants. I only wish he and Kathleen Howard(playing his wife) had done more than two movies together. They play off of each other wonderfully. So many hilarious set-pieces, but the breakfast table scene, with that "delightful verse by Gertrude Smotten," still ranks as my favorite.